Chapter 33 - HUNTED

It was the damnedest thing.

With the other riggers and crew on KM/C Hunter, Jakus Bark had been keeping an eye on the intermittent signs of the snark, Impris—mostly just the occasional ghostly glimmer on the deep-layer instrumentation. Every once in a great while the riggers in Hunter's net caught the even more ghostly glimmer of the actual ship, or heard the low, mournful trill of its distress beacon. They followed it relentlessly as it wandered on its erratic course, presently taking it back toward Golen Space. But lately, the readings just hadn't seemed right. It was as though something were disturbing it in its ghostly flight. And now...

Jakus strained to focus into the distance. What the hell is that over there? he asked his co-riggers, pointing down through the gauzy layers of the Flux. There was something in those layers that looked like a ship. But it didn't look like Impris.

Another ship? said Cranshaw. It looks like another ship!

Don't it just, Jakus breathed. What's another ship doing down there? That was not a layer of the Flux where any other ship should be. How would it even get there? Jakus called on the bridge com, What are you guys gettin' on the deep-layer, thirty down and twenty t' port? Do you see what we see?

As he waited for an answer, Jakus tried to adjust the image. Now the ship was gone, like a puff of vapor. But there was no question he'd seen it. Right in the fold haunted by Impris. And so had Cranshaw and the others.

This is really strange, said Nockey, from the bridge instrumentation crew. We've lost it now, but there was definitely another ship there for a few seconds. Not in our layer. Down there with the snark. Someone call Captain Hyutu.

Yah, said Jakus. I wonder if someone else got lost like Snarkie. Maybe we've got two of them now. He chuckled at the thought. Even as one who thought this was a pretty wimpy way to snatch targets, it was amusing to think of another lure just dropping into their laps.

We're trying to refine the signal, said Nockey. Maybe we can get some kind of an ident on the thing. The captain will love it.

Yah, said Jakus, settling back into watchful mode. He checked the time. He'd be going off shift soon. If the normal pattern of sightings held true, that was all the excitement they could expect for a while.

* * *

By all accounts, nothing new had happened in the meantime, but when Jakus stepped into Captain Benadir Hyutu's office before his next shift, Hyutu was scowling. That in itself didn't mean much, since Hyutu had generally the disposition of a Kargan rattler; but it didn't take long to deduce that the captain was even more displeased with life than usual.

"What's wrong, Ben?" Jakus asked, dropping into a seat across from the captain. Having known Hyutu since the old days on the L.A., he allowed himself more familiarity than most of the crew.

Hyutu's right eyebrow twitched fiercely. The old man was a stiff prig, anyway—and under strain, his augments tended to go a little flaky. Jakus was sure it was some kind of a malf, but Hyutu refused to have them looked at. "You see the report on that sighting?" Hyutu said sharply.

Jakus shrugged. "I've been off duty. Why, is there something new?"

Hyutu's face tightened with disdain, which was a good trick with that eyebrow still going. He muttered something under his breath that Jakus couldn't quite hear, then grunted, "Bark, that's why you're never going to get ahead in this organization. An ambitious man is never 'off duty.' "

Jakus shrugged at the rebuke. He hated it when Hyutu got on his high horse. He'd been like that even back on the L.A., before any of them were pirates. But it had gotten worse since Hyutu'd become an augmented captain in the KM/C navy. Still, the man was a powerhouse, and Jakus had good reason to stay loyal to him. "Okay, okay—so what did they find out?"

"You tell me. They got some readings on that ship you saw."

"Yeah?"

"It's Kyber, Hyutu said impatiently.

Jakus stared at him, stunned. "Kyber?"

"Not just Kyber." Hyutu turned away for a minute, rubbing his eyebrow. He swiveled back. "It looks like it's one of Ivan's."

Jakus whistled.

"I presume that means something to you? You've paid that much attention, anyway?"

"Of course it means something," Jakus said defensively. He didn't actually know much about Ivan, but he knew KM/C and Ivan together spelled bad blood. Not that anyone ever briefed him on this stuff. "I work to find out these things," he added. "We and Ivan don't like each other. At all."

Hyutu almost smiled for the first time. "Don't like each other. That's one way to put it. How about, what other Kyber boss'd be—if I may be vulgar for a moment— asshole enough to mess with Impris when it's not his turn." Hyutu paused, and for a moment actually broke into a grin. "And I can't think of anything that would make Carlotta smile more than for Ivan to get caught out here with his genitalia where they don't belong." He chuckled, and his other eyebrow started twitching.

Jakus frowned. "What d'you think they're up to? Some kind of sabotage? Maybe they got caught by accident."

"Well, what do you think? Why else would they be sneaking around out there? Of course, they're probably regretting it now. They'll never get out, any more than Impris did. But if they do..."

Jakus waited.

For a moment, Hyutu looked like a cruise ship captain getting ready to make nice with the passengers. "If he does come out again?" Hyutu's phony smile broadened. "I'll put a flux-torpedo up his shiny ass."

Jakus grinned.

Hyutu's sharp black eyes focused inward in contemplation. "Because I think it's time," he said, "that we made an example of people who interfere with the rightful order of things in the Kyber Republic. Wouldn't you agree, Rigger?" He nodded decisively, not waiting for a reply. "Of course you agree. Now, let's go to work, shall we?"

Jakus got up and followed Hyutu out of the office.

As they approached the rigger-stations, Jakus heard a shout from the instrumentation section. "We're getting some activity out there! I don't know what's happening, but it's pretty damn strange. Skipper, I think there may be something coming out of the underlayer!"

"Move it, people!" Hyutu snapped, clapping his hands. "Sound battle stations! This could be the fun we've been waiting for."

* * *

The fire roared around Phoenix, a diamond inferno. They were falling, burrowing through the inferno, a storm of tangled thoughts enveloping them as intensely as the fire itself. For a moment, an eternity, it was impossible to tell whose thoughts were whose, and where any of them were going. We're alive alive are we third ring second ring alive first alive burning can't hold on...

Am I palagren?... legroeder...?

It was beginning to sort out. Legroeder saw images flickering explosively around him, little windows opening through the flaw, the Flux, maybe reality itself— not memories this time, but something else. The glimpses came so fast he could not absorb them instantly, but only a heartbeat or two after—

—an unfamiliar nebula, roiling with fire and starlife— —where is that? did you see—? yes, I—

—a place of deep stillness, where the streams of space came to a stop—

—where we were? or are? a singularity? no, I don't—

—a startling array of connections, flashing open like wildfire across the cosmos, light splintering off into infinity—

—everywhere? riddled with them, space is riddled—

—loops of movement, a circuit of motion in timelessness, an eternal damnation in which four hundred and some souls had been trapped—

—look, the openings—

—scattered like shards of light, hidden nexus points— —through! we can go through!—

—in the shifting layers, a rigger ship, visible for an instant, then gone... mists of endless Flux...

—and somehow in the shower of images, Legroeder registered something about that glimpse of a ship; there'd been something Kyberlike about it; and he thought, One of the escort ships? Not quite right... and yet such a fleeting glimpse, who could tell. But it hit him again, just possibly they could exert some control over where they were going if not headlong into insanity...

And if that had been one of their ships? They'd lost contact way back before turning to the Sargasso, but what if—?

Focus on that ship! Focus on it! We're riggers, damn it —riggers!

And even as he thought it, he felt them beginning to find a course through the twisted tangle of spacetime, through the unraveling skein...

And then the inferno suddenly blew itself out, and the ship fell through darkness for endless heartbeats, leaving the quantum splinter behind. Legroeder and the Narseil felt their minds and bodies and souls reconverging, knitting themselves back together again, becoming whole.

Phoenix fell like a meteor out of the folds of the underflux, and burst into the normal Flux with a blinding flash. The net was shaking like an aircraft on the verge of stress failure, the four riggers nearly paralyzed by the shock of the passage. Legroeder shouted hoarsely, Where are we?

And Palagren, I can't tell!

And when were they? They'd touched the ends of eternity...

Cantha and Ker'sell cried out incoherently as they struggled to bring themselves back to the present, as they all strained to focus on the waves and currents of the Flux battering past them.

Legroeder took short, sharp breaths. We're alive, he cried silently. Alive! For a fleeting moment, he tried to wrap his memory around the passage—the glimpse of eternity—but it was all coming apart in his mind, like a dream.

Gulping air, he took a quick look around in the net. There was still a net. But what about Impris? And where were they? The normal Flux, but where?

We're out! We made it through! shouted a Narseil voice, Cantha's. The voice, and the answering cries from Palagren and Ker'sell, were almost surreal after the bizarre melding of the passage. Find Impris! he shouted, and his own voice sounded flat and empty of resonance, no longer reverberating against infinity.

He looked around frantically—and suddenly remembered. Impris had been torn from them. Destroyed in the quantum flaw. Impris was gone. Freem'n Deutsch gone. No—! Legroeder started to bellow, then choked and could not finish the cry.

The com came alive again, sputtering. Riggers, report! Can you hear me? It was the captain calling through a hash of static.

Legroeder drew a sharp breath. Get hold of yourself. Let's go, now; but felt himself moving in molasses. Captain, we're here—give us a moment— he whispered to the com.

The net was a tattered shambles, barely functional, but power was starting to flow back into it now. Had they really held it together with not much more than the force of will in the quantum flaw? Palagren was starting to reshape the net from the bow backwards, and Legroeder took up the trailing threads to strengthen the stern position.

The com crackled insistently. Captain Glenswarg's voice finally punched through. Legroeder, report! Where are we? Where is Impris?

Legroeder began to explain that he didn't know where they were, that Impris had gotten separated from them. He couldn't bear to say what he knew to be the truth. Gone! Dead! Neutrinos. Nothing left; all a terrible waste.

We... got separated during the passage through the quantum flaw...

Yes, yes—what the hell HAPPENED then? I thought my head was going to explode! I couldn't tell... I mean all of us... the whole crew was immobilized.

Legroeder struggled to explain. That's... going to take time to figure out, Captain. It was... God, it was like... He could not piece together the words. It was as if his mind had stretched from one end of the universe to the other, but without getting any smarter...

All right, never mind that. Are you searching for Impris?

Searching for what—the neutrinos? Yes, of course, he whispered. But try to get as much instrumentation working as you can. We can't see a lot right now.

Palagren glanced back and stared at Legroeder with an expression full of—what? Sorrow? Sympathy? Legroeder couldn't tell. But this ship was hurtling through the mists of the Flux and there was no time to dwell on the question. They had to bring the ship under control, and find out where they were.

Another voice came on. This is nav. My first reading puts us south of the Akeides Nebula. I think we've come out near our original prime target, in the KM/C patrol area.

Oh, no.

Attention, everyone! barked a Narseil voice, interrupting the nav officer. It was Agamem, with the weapons and tactics crew. We've got a ship coming in fast, heading three-one-two- slash-three-seven. Not Impris. Not one of ours. Coming directly toward us.

No, Legroeder thought.

Glenswarg, with the comlink still open, called at once for general quarters. Have you got an ident on it? he asked the tactical crew.

Negative—but I think it's Kyber—not one of ours.

Must be KM/C, then. Dammit, put me on the fluxwave to it. Am I on? There was some static, and then, Kyber ship, this is Kyber-Ivan Phoenix. We've just made an emergency exit from the Deep Flux. Who are you, please. Kyber ship, Kyber ship...

Legroeder and the other riggers were still trying to spot the other ship, but so far all they could see was swirling mist. They were moving fast; that quantum passage must have given them one hell of a kick.

I've got signs of weapons powering up, Agamem warned.

Legroeder blinked in dismay.

He heard a shout from the bridge crew, and then Glenswarg snapping: Flux-torpedoes incoming! Riggers, prepare for countermeasures!

Christ! Legroeder thought, still trying to locate the other ship. There it was, ahead of them. It had moved in fast. Three tiny twinkling lights were streaking through the Flux toward Phoenix. About four seconds to impact.

Riggers, hard to port! Captain Glenswarg shouted. Prepare to launch countermeasures... launch countermeasures!

No time for thought. Legroeder fell into a smooth motion with Palagren, Ker'sell, and Cantha. The net had returned to about half strength, and they warped it carefully, forming the ship into a stubby-winged aircraft. They banked sharply left, as a swarm of decoys shot out from the ship's stern and billowed away like swarming bees. Some clouds passed between them and the incoming torpedoes, and for several seconds, they were blind to both the enemy ship and the torpedoes.

They dove, banked right, then left again, and climbed. As they passed around a cloud bank, there were two bright flashes behind the clouds, and concussions: thump! thump! Legroeder glanced back and saw one remaining torpedo, streaking in a long arc toward them. One incoming behind us! he called out.

Hold your course, Glenswarg said calmly. Then: Neutrasers—fire.

A bright streak lanced out from the tail of Phoenix, caught the torpedo, and destroyed it. The concussion wave shook Phoenix, but the riggers held tight and rode it out.

Damage report! Glenswarg called. Riggers, do you have the enemy in sight?

Negative, Legroeder replied. They had lost sight of it during their evasion. They brought Phoenix around now and passed beneath a puff of cloud...

Mother of— Legroeder recoiled as a dazzling white light split through the vapors far off to their right. What the hell is that? Legroeder squinted, shielding his eyes. Bridge, is that more incoming fire?

He heard a lot of shouting, with Agamem's voice among them. But even as the captain replied in the negative, he saw the flash fading, and something streaking away—another ship, moving fast through the Flux.

Hell's bells. Was that ship coming out of the folds of the underflux? Legroeder felt his implants suddenly buzzing back to life. It's IMPRIS! Legroeder bellowed. He couldn't hear anything comprehensible from the implants, but he could feel them seeking a connection. IMPRIS! IMPRIS! They made it through!

His heart threatened to pound out of his chest, as the other riggers and the bridge crew shouted at once. Glenswarg broke through finally. Have you got a lock yet on the enemy ship? Are you sure that's Impris?

Yes! No—no lock. Palagren—Cantha—Ker'sell—any sign of that Kyber?

The implant link opened up, interrupting him, and he felt Deutsch at the other end of it, and he shouted silently, (Freem'n, you're alive—are you there?)

Find me that Kyber! demanded the captain.

Still searching, called Palagren.

The reply from Deutsch was shaky and bewildered. (What—? What—? Legroeder? Is that you?)

(Yes, we—)

He was interrupted by a thunderous flash across the bow of Phoenix. The attacking ship—a Kyber raider twice the size of Phoenix—had just streaked out of the clouds, moving at tremendous speed. Had it missed them? Or was it on another errand now? It was arrowing straight for Impris, whose riggers were almost certainly dizzy and disoriented from their passage. The link with Deutsch was flickering out, probably interference from the attacker.

Captain, I had a link with Impris, but I've lost it! We've got to warn them! Legroeder shouted. Impris probably had no armament, and was certainly in no shape to deal with a surprise attack. (Freem'n!) he called urgently. (Impris! If you can hear me, flee for cover!)

An instant later, Glenswarg's voice boomed out through the Flux, amplified by the net: ATTACKING SHIP, IDENTIFY YOURSELF! YOU ARE WARNED AWAY FROM OUR COMPANION! THIS IS CAPTAIN GLENSWARG OF KYBER-IVAN PHOENIX! He snapped to tactical, How soon can we get a torpedo off?

We've got problems here. Not for a few minutes, came the answer.

Legroeder drew a steady breath. Glenswarg was inviting a renewed attack on Phoenix with his challenge —but at the same time, he'd warned the captain and riggers of the starliner. Impris was already altering course, with slow, difficult movements.

Riggers, stand by for battle, Glenswarg ordered.

The attacker, dwindling in the direction of Impris, answered Glenswarg's challenge with a sternward volley of torpedoes, streaking back toward Phoenix.

Legroeder and the Narseil hurled their ship at once into violent, evasive course changes. The Flux came alive suddenly with DROOM, DROOM, DROOM, the drums of a raider ship in full attack, and then the voice of the raider captain, booming through the clouds:

THIS IS HYUTU OF KM/C HUNTER! YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF A DESIGNATED HUNTING SPACE. YOU ARE INTERFERING WITH OUR MISSION, IVAN! EXPECT NO CONSIDERATION.

Legroeder choked. Hyutu! On the com from the bridge, there was an angry outcry. The captain was shouting instructions, but Legroeder barely heard him. The name was ringing in his ears, threatening to drown out all other thought.

Hyutu...

—launch countermeasures!

Legroeder, follow!

That last was Palagren, jerking him back to the present. Legroeder struggled to keep up with the Narseil on a barrel-rolling dive.

Hyutu—the murdering—!

Legroeder, move it! What's the matter?

That bastard—Hyutu! he sputtered, late with his rudder movement.

Palagren had to compensate. What?

The bastard who betrayed the L.A.!

Worry about him later! Palagren shouted. Let's stay alive!

The Narseil was right. They were straining the net with their diving and twisting. The torpedoes were sparkling closer, turning to match their turns. The countermeasures hadn't worked—the torpedoes had adapted. Up and left! Legroeder snapped, suddenly seeing a way to do it. Palagren, give me the image!

Are you s—?

Do it!

In the blink of an eye, he changed the ship to a fluttering bat, blindingly quick and maneuverable. The image helped them fly the same way—darting up, sideways, down, wings flicking in a blur. Was Weapons ever going to get a shot off at those things? The spread of torpedoes swept around, following, gaining. But the torpedoes were taking the turns a little wider than Phoenix.

Stabs of light went out from Phoenix in a machine-gun burst, catching the lead torpedo. It detonated—thump!— and as the others were caught by the explosion, they went off, too. Thump! Th-kump! BM-BOOM!

Too close. The shock wave rippled through the Flux and hit Phoenix. The net shook and lost its hold, and the ship tumbled. The net was ablaze. Get it out! Get the fire out! Legroeder cried, trying to dampen the net. It wasn't a literal fire, but energy was flooding through the damaged net and the feedback pain was incredible. It slowly subsided as they damped the net down and began to reshape it; and as they regained a measure of control, the pain became more tolerable. They were skidding in a slow turn now... coming back around...

We just lost our torpedo launchers, called a voice on the bridge.

And there was the Kyber Hunter, turning from Impris to loop back toward Phoenix.

Legroeder could not contain himself. Without even thinking about it, he amplified his voice and bellowed out into the Flux, HYUTU, YOU STUPID MURDERING BASTA-A-A-RD!

* * *

Jakus Bark's blood was hot with fever, the fever of battle. The augments thrummed exhortation through his skull. The drumming that boomed through the net heightened his fever, and that of his fellow riggers. Most powerful of all, his own exultation bubbled up like a geyser of champagne, unstoppable. How long had he waited for this? How long to watch his ship belch fire and death? How long to watch KM/C triumph?

Jakus owed everything to Kilo-Mike/Carlotta. It was KM/C who had brought him from DeNoble, KM/C who beefed up his implants to make him a valued member of their forces... no longer a half-baked captive impressed into service, but a member of the force, who talked to the right people, and moved with the shakers and thinkers. KM/C had trusted him and put him to work undercover on Faber Eri; and when things had gone wrong there through no fault of his own, moved him right on to his next assignment. They'd put him where he belonged, in the net of a Kyber marauder. And now he had a chance to show his worth.

That Ivan interloper was hurt—it was obvious from the way she was maneuvering. Once the captain gave the word, they would put the final stake through its heart— but first they needed to complete this pass on the second ship that had come out. Find out who the hell it was.

A heartbeat later, Hyutu's voice sounded through the net like a klaxon, and a curse: The ship is the snark. It's Impris.

A murmur of dismay filled the net, led by Jakus. Their lure had been pulled out by Ivan!

We'll find out how they did it later, Hyutu growled. Leave it here for now. Rigger Bark, bring us around to finish off that Ivan!

Jakus signaled his fellow riggers to come around for another attack dive. He heard a cry, echoing across the Flux—a shout of rage and defiance from the enemy. He grinned broadly at the outrage—and then, with astonishment, recognized the voice. It couldn't be! Legroeder? Jakus gasped. Legroeder—here?

Stunned, he called to Hyutu, Captain! Captain, you aren't going to believe this...

* * *

Right about now, Legroeder thought, they could have used some Free Kyber riggers in the net, to help them contend with these insane KM/C pirates. The net was straining with every maneuver. The Ivan riggers knew the ship better from a tactical standpoint, and knew the enemy, too. But there was no time to switch riggers. Palagren had Phoenix in the shape of a dashing, speeding fish, and they were fighting to make the ship live up to its image. But with the damage to their net slowing them down, Hunter had drawn inexorably closer, until their only means of evasion was to keep changing directions, twisting through clouds in hopes of shaking the enemy off.

Captain—any chance of getting a shot off soon? Legroeder called anxiously.

Launchers are still down, Glenswarg answered tightly. You've got to keep us out of their reach—or if you can't do that, get us close enough for the neutrasers.

Legroeder acknowledged; they were spinning and turning, reaching the limits of what their net could do, but also forcing Hunter to maneuver tightly to follow. Ker'sell spotted an opening—and at his shout, they turned, and with several fast directional changes, shot perilously close to the enemy— exchanging neutraser fire as they flew past. Phoenix trembled, taking several hits; but it kept going. As the KM/C ship came around, Legroeder looked for damage, but saw little sign that their efforts against Hunter were having any effect.

He heard something—what was that?—his name echoing across the Flux: Rigger Legroeder... so good to see you again...

For a moment, Legroeder was speechless. It was Hyutu... calling out across the Flux to gloat. Legroeder bit his tongue to keep silent. Keep silent. But he couldn't. Hyutu, you bloodsucking traitor!

Hyutu's answer was a laugh—but Legroeder had no time to answer, because Palagren and Ker'sell had just dumped them into a spinning dive, away from Hunter, and Legroeder helped them by instinct alone. Glenswarg was snapping orders—among them, telling Legroeder to shut the hell up. But another new voice filled the net from the remoteness of the Flux, and again it was a voice that Legroeder recognized. Jakus Bark!

—really fallen into it this time, Legroeder. What did you think you were doing? There's no way you're going to get out of this one! Bark's voice was utterly scornful.

You bastard! I thought you were dead! Legroeder whispered.

Did you think we were going to lie down and die? Bark said, and then burst into a roar of laughter. Well, guess who's going to do the dying!

At that moment, the KM/C ship seemed to find a favorable new current, because it came overhead in a loop far too fast for Phoenix to follow and bore down directly down on the Ivan ship, like a hawk swooping on its prey. Legroeder and the others strained to maneuver out of its path, but they couldn't fight the natural movements of the Flux, and this time the winds were against them. All they could do was fire their neutrasers futilely, and wait for the volley of torpedoes.

(Impris, get clear!) Legroeder called, his inner voice desperate, filled with despair at the thought of being killed by his traitorous old shipmates—and at the thought that they had brought Impris out only to be killed, too.

Bark's laughter echoed. So long, Legroeder, baby-y-y...

Before Legroeder could think of a word to say, he felt a sudden shudder through the Flux and heard, K-B¬BOOM-M-M!

And he heard Agamem cry from the bridge, Flux torpedoes—but they're not coming at us! K-B-BOOM-M-M!

There was a second explosion, and Legroeder kicked the stern of Phoenix around for a better look. He was astonished to see the KM/C raider targeted by a cluster of bursting flux torpedoes. Where the hell had they come from? Surely not from Impris. Then where?

The next voice was Jakus's again—howling in a splutter of confusion and rage. The KM/C ship was taking a beating. But from whom? It was turning with evident difficulty—attempting, for the first time, its own evasive maneuvers. Hyutu's voice screamed, WHO IS THAT ATTACKING US? COME OUT AND IDENTIFY YOURSELVES! Streams of neutraser fire radiated from Hyutu's ship, seemingly aimed at random.

The only response was the glow of a converging swarm of new, incoming torpedoes.

* * *

Jakus blinked as he heard the warning cry from the other side of the net. The flickering glare of the torpedoes was almost hypnotic; there were so many of them, from several directions, but all converging on the same point.

On Hunter.

How could this be?

Captain Hyutu, what now? he whispered. His implants were savagely stoking his blood lust, but they couldn't change reality. Hunter was pinned, trapped; nowhere to turn. His fury had nowhere to turn, either, except inward, on himself and his captain. You stupid bastard captain...

EVASIVE ACTION, YOU MORONS! EVASIVE ACTION! Hyutu screamed. COUNTERMEASURES AWAY! NEUTRASERS SHOOT! SHOO-O-O-OT—!

The captain's voice shook with rage, and the riggers wrenched the ship into wild gyrations trying to shake the torpedoes. But it was hopeless; Jakus Bark knew it was hopeless even as his augments drove him onward, trying to save the ship.

The first wave of torpedoes loomed, their sparkle glaring against the Flux. Jakus let go of the net with a loud cry, heedless of his captain screaming, TURN, YOU IDIOTS, TURRRRNNN—! and Jakus felt a sudden terror and then an utterly insane release as he grinned out into the Flux, directly into the dazzling glare of the exploding warheads.

* * *

As the rigger-crew of Phoenix watched dumbfounded, the torpedoes converged on the KM/C ship and flashed with great pulses of light. Hunter's net blazed like a torch, and a heartbeat later the entire raider ship crumpled inward, then exploded.

The BOO-O-OM-M-M reverberated with ghostly echoes from the clouds.

No one in the Phoenix net spoke. They could hear mutters of amazement from the bridge, as though Glenswarg were holding the com open, intending to speak, but too stunned to know what to say. Legroeder's heart was pounding so hard, he could scarcely hear himself think.

What the hell was that? he whispered finally. Who was —?

Phoenix! called a voice, distant but strong across the Flux. This is Kyber-Ivan Freedom. Are you all right? A silver ship slipped out of the clouds high above the expanding debris field that had been Hunter. Had it been there all along?

My left nut, I'm glad to see you! Captain Glenswarg boomed. How the hell did you find us? Where were you?

Two other ships appeared—one from beyond and one from beneath the debris field. It was the escort squadron. They'd had Hunter bracketed; the bastard hadn't stood a chance. The same voice answered, and there was laughter in it this time. Where were you is my question! We lost you halfway to the destination point. Did you change course?

Yes!—yes!—didn't you get our transmission? Glenswarg's voice was shaking with relief.

Got no transmission, said the other captain. We kept going and hoped we'd find you here. The next time we picked you up, it looked like you'd popped out of some kind of Flux anomaly—and then KM/C came out of nowhere and started shooting at you. It took us a few minutes to get in close enough to help.

Rings! muttered Glenswarg, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally he sighed, Thank you. Your timing couldn't have been better.

You're welcome, said Freedom. Now, did we or did we not see a ship that looked like Impris? I think it disappeared into those clouds.

Yes, where did they go? Legroeder thought, peering around dizzily. They'd been so busy staying alive, he'd become totally disoriented. He queried his implants; but the comlink was still down.

We're here, called a new voice, breaking the momentary silence. We've been wondering if we should come out. Captain Glenswarg? It was Friedman of Impris.

Legroeder let out a great cry of relief.

Please come out now, answered Glenswarg. Let's group up this fleet.

As Legroeder and his crew slowly brought their ship around toward the escort fleet, the long, stately shape of Impris emerged from a dense layer of cloud beneath them and rose to join the group. Legroeder felt the implant connection coming back to life. (Freem'n!) he cried silently. (Are you there?)

(We're here. We're here,) came the reply, like a whisper down the length of an acoustically perfect auditorium.

(Can you still fly? Are you in one piece?)

(Just barely, and more or less,) said Deutsch. (I don't know how, and I don't know why, but somehow we came through the quantum flaw on your coattails. How did you do that, Legroeder?)

(I just thought like a rigger, Freem'n. I just thought like a rigger.)

At that, Deutsch began chuckling, softly at first and then louder, until the inside of Legroeder's head echoed with his friend's laughter.

* * *

The squadron formed up quickly around Phoenix and Impris, and the order was given to set course for Outpost Ivan.

Has it occurred to anyone that we're all exhausted, and we need time for repairs? Legroeder asked Glenswarg, as he and the Narseil strained to bring the ship into formation.

Sure, answered the captain. We'll do something about that just as soon as we get the hell out of here. Our friend the Hunter might have buddies, you know.

Ah, Legroeder said, not arguing. But oh, how he wanted some sleep!

The squadron, like a naval armada from some long-ago holodrama, rose slowly through the colored mists until the clouds scattered and cleared, and the smooth waters of a mystical, ethereal ocean stretched before them. The two ships in the middle, Phoenix and Impris, wobbled but held their positions. And as a grand, if battered fleet, they set sail for Outpost Ivan.

Chapter 34 - THE CENTRIST CONNECTION

"But Harriet—we can record the whole thing on VR and bring it to you here in the embassy. There's no need to risk your going out." Peter stretched his big hands out pleadingly.

Harriet fixed the Clendornan PI with her gaze. "I don't want to see it on the VR, Peter. I want to see it in person. You can bring me right back when we're done. But if I'm going to use this for a legal case, I need to know everything. How it sounds, how it feels, how it smells. And not through some damn electronic reproduction!"

The light in the back of the Clendornan's eyes flickered as he gazed at her.

"Peter, I appreciate your concern. But I've got to do this." Besides, if I don't get out of this embassy soon, I'm going to lose my mind. How can such a beautiful place feel like such a prison?

Peter gave in at last. "All right. But at least let me talk to the embassy staff. Maybe they'll let us travel in one of their vans. Less likely to be intercepted that way."

"I knew you'd understand." Harriet grabbed Peter's arm. "Come on, let's go find the assistant ambassador..."

* * *

All the way in the Narseil floater-van, Harriet found herself checking the security sensors, and peering back through the darkened windows to see if they were being followed. Her courage of an hour ago had evaporated. She sank back in her seat with a sigh. "Harriet, there's no reason to think we've been seen," Peter said, glancing back from the front seat.

"I'm sure you're right," she murmured. She glanced to her right at the tall form of Dendridan, the embassy attaché. He had come along to observe, as well as to lend diplomatic legitimacy to their use of the Narseil vehicle. Dendridan's vertical eyes gleamed, but he said nothing.

Leaving the city proper, they glided through the northeast suburbs, past an area Harriet barely knew even though she'd lived in Elmira all her adult life. The Narseil driver followed Peter's directions flawlessly, and twenty minutes later they were parked between two other vehicles in back of a peeling white wood-frame house.

"Stay here a moment while I do a check," Peter said. He ducked out of the van, leaving Harriet with Dendridan and the Narseil driver. He reappeared a few minutes later, with one of his men. "The coast is clear. Let's go inside."

Leaving the driver with the van, they entered the house through the kitchen and made their way upstairs to a large bedroom that had been converted into a makeshift VR studio. There were cameras on tripods everywhere, and a large white screen across one wall. Peter introduced his assistants Norman and Irv, whom Harriet recognized from the earlier holo. There was no need to introduce Rufus the dog, who lay on a small cot, panting slowly. He was wired up like a marionette with optiwire feeds. The dog's tail twitched when he saw Harriet—was it possible he remembered her?—but everything about him seemed in slow motion. "He's under a relaxation field," Peter explained. He cocked his head, studying the setup. "Downloading information from a dog is not as easy as you might think."

"Oh, really," Harriet said dryly.

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow," said the Narseil.

"Well," said Peter, "since the data in Rufus's implants was a direct memory feed from McGinnis, a lot of it isn't necessarily in verbal form. Some of it's visual, some of it's sound and smell and touch; some of it's pure emotion. To be valid in court, it must be read and interpreted by a certified intermediary."

"One of your people?"

Peter shook his head. "We hire the Kell, who make this something of a specialty. I've brought one in from the city of Port Huron."

"On the other side of the continent."

"Right. She's not well known here, but she's one of the best." Peter paused to survey the setup. "If everyone's ready, I'll go get her." Peter disappeared into another room, while Harriet and Dendridan waited uncomfortably.

"Irv here's the one who found Rufus, at the McGinnis place," Norman said, nodding. Norman was a large man who seemed comfortable around the dog. Irv, on the other hand, was skinny and nervous looking. Harriet remembered Peter saying that Irv was afraid of dogs. Apparently he had gotten over his fear; he paused to scratch Rufus's head as he made some adjustments to the hookup.

"Everyone," said Peter, returning with the blue-robed Kell, "may I introduce the interpreter who will be assisting us today? This is Counselor Corellay. She is certified for Level-3 implant reading and Level-2 telepathic extraction."

Counselor Corellay was just over a meter tall, with silken grey fur and a hamster-like face. Her eyes were black with bright silver dots slightly off-center. She nodded to the observers and then walked, with a rippling gait, across the room to the dog. She touched Rufus on the head and murmured to him for a moment. Then she turned. "Are we ready to begin?"

"Quadrocam?" Peter asked Irv.

"Ready."

"Sensory feed? Data storage?"

"Ready."

Peter nodded to the Kell. "You may begin your certification." Corellay bent to examine the wiring attached to the dog. As she made her inspection, Peter explained to the Narseil, "We've made test tracings, but this will be the first court-certified reading. I'll ask you and Harriet to sign off as witnesses." Dendridan agreed, and Peter produced a small retinal scanner-recorder into which the two of them would make their attestations.

When Corellay was satisfied, she adjusted her own collar, which looked a bit like a cervical brace glinting with opticom processors. She stepped to the center of the room, in front of the white screen. Drawing a lightwand out of her robe, she faced Peter and the others. "Begin recording. This is Counselor Corellay of Kell, licensed to the courts of Faber Eridani in Port Huron. Here begins my translation of memory-data presently stored in the cortical implants of Mr. Robert McGinnis's dog, Rufus..."

The formal preface went on for a while. Suddenly Corellay's voice deepened. She raised the lightwand. "This is the record of Robert McGinnis. I may have only minutes left in which to live." She waved the lightwand in a sudden blur in front of the screen. A sketch appeared in midair, first in black and white, then color. Harriet marveled at the speed of the rendering while focusing on the image: a room with flames licking through the walls and a bank of consoles glowing. Robert McGinnis appeared in the foreground, his face contorted with pain.

Corellay's voice changed to her own. "This is how Robert McGinnis looks to me as he uploads. He is fighting for his life. The flames are in his mind only; but he expects their physical presence soon." Corellay's voice dropped again; she sounded startlingly like McGinnis, even to the cadence and inflection.

"What will follow is a list of crimes that I hereby attest have been committed by Kyber agents and certain representatives of the RiggerGuild and the Spacing Authority over the past thirty years. I have compiled this record in deliberate isolation from my implants, which have otherwise prevented me from coming forward. It is my hope that this record will now be used to bring the guilty to justice." Corellay paused a moment, then waved the wand rapidly in the air. A holoimage took shape, surrounding her as though she were standing in a cavern. Faces appeared in the blur of the wand, flickering with streaks of light that flashed onto Corellay's face. The Kell winced in pain. Suddenly she gestured urgently to Harriet and Dendridan to step forward, into the image.

The Narseil looked unsure, but Harriet grasped his elbow and propelled him forward. As she stepped into the hologram, Harriet's breath went out; she felt as if she'd been punched. She gasped in fear and looked around wildly for an instant. Threatening faces glared from the walls of the holographic image, and Harriet felt a sudden wash of fear of what would happen if she revealed the truths that she knew. Who were these people? Some had implants on the sides of their heads; others didn't. The faces were indistinct; her feelings of vulnerability and fear were so powerful it was difficult to focus on the images. The Corellay/McGinnis voice was rapidly running down a long list of dates, and coercive threats, and instructions he had been given for undercover activities. The instructions ranged from espionage to destruction of evidence to creation of false navigational data for use by riggers. He could not always successfully resist...

After a moment, the images began to spin, until they were gathered into a whirlpool. As Harriet watched, stunned, they drained down into a holographic box on the floor.

Corellay's voice sounded like her own again. "Those details have been stored in the permanent record. Step out now, please."

With a sigh of relief, Harriet and Dendridan moved back to a safe distance. Harriet could see that Dendridan was confused about their role in this. "We were just witnessing McGinnis's emotional responses to the physical details embedded in the recording," Harriet whispered to the Narseil. "That becomes part of the testimony, and it can be used to support the claim of intimidation via implant—which is criminal assault under Faber Eridani law."

McGinnis's voice returned.

"It was not just Kyber agents behind these actions, I am convinced—but the Spacing Authority itself. And the RiggerGuild—betraying its charge to protect the life and liberty of riggers, by sending its members into areas of known pirate activity..."

Harriet felt a knot tightening in her stomach as she watched Corellay's hand speed up to a blur again. A long written list of ships scrolled down the middle of the holo. Was the L.A. one of them? Bobby? It was scrolling too fast to read. The list funneled down into the data storage and vanished.

"The Guild," Corellay/McGinnis continued, "has collaborated with a raider organization known as Carlotta. It was Carlotta who salvaged me when I was shipwrecked in the Sargasso, and Carlotta who put these accursed implants into me..." The Kell interpreter spun a new hologram, this time of McGinnis's face twisted with pain as shiny implants appeared in his temples. "It was Carlotta who planted me on Faber Eridani as one of their agents. It is Carlotta who preys upon ships and their crews near the edges of Golen Space, sometimes using the lost ship Impris as a lure." Harriet shut her eyes, suddenly feeling physically ill. Through the rushing of blood in her head, she thought, This is exactly what I need. Finally. But the thought gave her no pleasure.

"...and it is Carlotta who for years has been wielding her influence over the Guild of Riggers and the Spacing Authority of Faber Eridani." The image changed to a sketch of RiggerGuild headquarters on the left, and Spacing Authority headquarters, on the right. McGinnis's voice softened. "I don't accuse all who work for these organizations—or even the majority. Most employees probably know nothing of the crimes, many of which were carried out through intermediaries. One of those intermediaries is the paramilitary organization that tried to control me. Its name is Centrist Strength."

Harriet drew a sharp breath. Centrist Strength.

The Corellay/McGinnis voice became hollow and strained: "They had visions of using my military expertise..."

* * *

The story that emerged was a confusing one. But after all she had learned from El'ken and McGinnis, Harriet was able to fit the pieces together fairly readily.

Centrist Strength was building an underground military force on Faber Eridani. No surprise; they seemed bent on achieving power through intimidation masquerading as self-defense. Their stated motives were ambiguous: they claimed to be working for the destiny of the Centrist Worlds, reawakening the leaders of Faber Eridani and other worlds to the once-common vision of a grand-scale exploration of the galaxy. So far, so good. But for a group dedicated to the destiny of the Centrist Worlds, they had far too many surreptitious dealings with a pirate group called the Free Kyber Republic—a group diametrically opposed to the expansion of the Centrist Worlds. According to McGinnis, Centrist Strength had decided that any human expansion—and the power and profit that would flow from it—was better than none. And any means would do to achieve it.

But who was behind their secret military buildup here? Over a period of some years, McGinnis had made cautious investigative forays into the system to which his implants were connected. And he'd learned some names.

It was a long list, funneling down into data-storage as McGinnis spoke them aloud. Some individuals were clearly implicated; others were connected to Centrist Strength only through shadowy intermediaries and front organizations. It was through those indirect connections that the more familiar names appeared, just at the periphery of clear culpability. Among them were officials of the RiggerGuild and Spacing Authority.

It had taken many careful traceroutes, but McGinnis had found the chain of evidence. The Spacing Commissioner's office had quietly signed off on a transfer of retired Spacing Authority armaments—not directly, but through carefully laundered transactions—to the private arsenal of Centrist Strength.

Harriet found herself holding her breath. Was Commissioner North involved in a paramilitary conspiracy? If so, who were his real bosses?

Corellay stroked her wand through the air, leaving a ghostly image of McGinnis's face, surrounded by a curtain of emotional fire—and in the fire the faces of his enemies, an image of the forces assailing him through his implants.

"This is their final attempt to coerce me," said McGinnis with a strained voice. "'Kill the visitors. Destroy the Impris records. Do not let them leave!' This is the order I finally had to openly disobey."

Corellay urged Harriet and Dendridan back into the holo, as the images intensified: indistinct faces barking commands at McGinnis. Harriet felt McGinnis's anger, held back and masked as long as humanly possible. "For thirty years," McGinnis whispered, "I've kept my true thoughts hidden from my implants. For thirty years, I've deceived them." Harriet felt the rage pounding in her own temples as she saw McGinnis painstakingly ignoring the orders to destroy the Impris records while seeming to comply with them.

Harriet prayed she would never have to face such a battle. She could not imagine how the man could deceive implants lurking right inside his own skull. The control that must have taken...

But the images were slipping now toward the fatal end. The implants had learned of McGinnis's deception, and were using all their power to regain control. The voice grew short and raspy. "Not much time—Jesus, it hurts! They're trying to make me kill you! Take this information. Use it!" Harriet felt her own breath grow ragged with fear.

"I must destroy this place now! Disconnect—forever —!"

Corellay cried out, and Harriet felt a shocking blow of pain as real flames erupted from the walls, and then emptiness as McGinnis's face dissolved in a sparkling cloud of glitter.

Corellay waved them out of the holo. As Harriet and Dendridan staggered away, Corellay's voice became her own again. "Here ends that section of the data-upload. But there are images that follow—of explosion, fire—" flames engulfing the holo "—and the vision now is from the viewpoint of the dog, Rufus, outside the house."

On the cot, the real Rufus was whimpering now, his legs twitching as he tried to run.

The last image Corellay painted was of the dog running in terror from the burning house. Then the holo faded, and she spoke soberly into the recording equipment. "This concludes the Robert McGinnis reading. I present this interpretation with a confidence level of nine. This is Counselor Corellay." The Kell lowered the wand and stood swaying, her eyes closed. "You may turn off the recording."

Harriet groped for a chair, overcome with emotion. There was a great emptiness in her, from McGinnis's death. For a time, she felt as if nothing could change that emptiness; it was so real, so painful.

And then the details of the revelations began to filter back into place in her mind. And she began to recoil with horror at what the conspirators had done...

* * *

Riding back in the Narseil van, Harriet and Peter debated where to go next with the information. A notarized copy of the recording had already been placed for safekeeping on the worldnet. Another copy had been transmitted to El'ken, the Narseil historian.

"I think," said Dendridan, glancing thoughtfully out the window, "that if there was any doubt about whether you still need our protection at the embassy, it is gone now. You've just implicated one of the most powerful officials on this planet in a conspiracy to conceal the truth. About Impris—and about the Narseil." He turned to Harriet, and there was a sharp gleam in his eye. "We'll most certainly grant you every protection we can."

Harriet nodded her thanks. A certain satisfaction was starting to settle in. She now had an important piece of evidence that would help to exonerate Legroeder, if he ever returned. The interpreter's confidence rating of nine was very high, almost as strong in court as direct verbal testimony. But the evidence against North and the other officials was still shy of what they would need to convict anyone.

"We've got to go after North," said Peter. "If we unmask North, the whole conspiracy will unravel."

Harriet agreed. But how to go after him? North was in power, and she was in hiding. Whose word would carry the greater weight? Still, it was all recorded and notarized, and ready to be released on a moment's notice. Perhaps it could be used to force North's hand.

"Excuse me," said Dendridan, craning his neck suddenly to look behind the van and up. "But I think we're about to have an emergency. Driver, could you speed up, please?"

Peter angled a glance into the security monitors. "What's that? Is this your time sen—? Hold on. Yes, I think someone's following us from overhead. It's a flyer."

Dendridan seemed to look inward. "And they're about to give chase. Begin evasive driving, please."

Peter grimaced as he tied his compad into the security monitors. "I'm trying to get a registration on it. It's too far away."

"It won't be for long," Dendridan murmured.

Peter seemed to read the Narseil's tone of voice. He glanced at Harriet with eyes aflame, then said to the driver, "You might want to speed up a lot."

Harriet shut her eyes and held her breath as the sudden acceleration slammed her back into her seat. Dear God.

"Don't worry, Harriet. I'm sure we can shake them," said Peter, in a voice that was not at all reassuring.

Chapter 35 - MARIS

The local airbus left a cloud of dust as it disappeared around the bend of the old road. Adaria, watching the bus vanish, gave a whistling sigh of relief. She stretched her flightless wings, picked up her bag, and started down the path into the woods.

It had been a long journey, but Adaria was nearly home now, back with her own people, the Fabri. In the end, there was nothing like the company of the homefolk. Especially after the last few months of life among humans. Adaria still shivered at the memories of the coolness and fear that had insinuated their way into her life at the library, and that late-night visit by Centrist Strength, with their half-veiled threats. Centrist Strength made her extremely uneasy, even at a distance—with their known caching of weapons on Fabri land, their proclamations of Destiny Manifest...

Better to leave all that behind, if one could.

The path was not long, but it wound in serpentine fashion through the woods. She felt her own inner tensions unwinding as she followed the path's twisty course among the penalders and fragrant ellum trees to the village. Someone called out to her as she approached, and she whistled a greeting in return. She didn't go straight to the village center, though; instead she detoured to a cabin at the edge of the village. She had someone to visit, an old friend.

Adaria paused, gazing with a shake of her feathers at her friend's house, a low wooden structure. It seemed in poorer repair than she remembered, the bark clapboard cracked and desiccated. "Telessst?" she called through the bead curtain that hung over the front door. She ducked her head and entered, the beads brushing back over her wings. The room was dim; the only light came from two small windows with curtains drawn. It was a modest den, with a raised wooden floor, cushions, and a low table. Adaria whistled.

"Adaria? Is that you?" cried a voice from the shadows of the back room. An old female Fabri stepped out to greet her with a feathery embrace. "Iiiirrrrrrlllll," Telest sighed, squeezing her with pent-up affection. "It is good to see you, my friend!"

Adaria didn't answer for a moment, but just held the old Fabri's arms. So much to think about, so much to say. "I am back," she said finally.

"So you are. And how are you?"

Adaria gazed at her old mentor before answering. Telest's curving neck, which the humans might have called swanlike, was a little more bent, a little frailer than when she'd last seen her. Telest's eyes were bright, though the fine feathers covering her cheeks looked thin and worn. It was so good to be back. But there was no time for sentiment just yet.

Adaria drew a breath. "There is trouble, Telest. Word from Vegas and the Mahoney people. They need our help if we can give it. They need it now..."

* * *

I am Maris O'Hare. I may be a prisoner, but I am not without control.

Maris opened her eyes and leaned forward in the living room recliner. With a glance at her two captors, she raised her cup of tea from the side stand and took a tiny sip. The pain in her shoulder and neck was lessening; she could manage a teacup now. She set it down with trembling hands and rested her head back. "You still haven't told me who you're working for," she murmured. Moving only her eyes, she glanced around the living room. She was still getting used to the idea of being planetside, in a house. But in the hands of pirates. Right where she'd started.

The woman turned from the security console she was always checking. "We told you. Ivan. That's all you need to know."

"Who is Ivan?"

"A friend," the woman grunted, and walked out of the room.

The man put down a beam rifle he'd been cleaning and peered out the window. "Don't worry about it. Just work on getting better."

Maris pressed her lips together. For perhaps the twentieth time, she surveyed what she could see of the house: Living room. Kitchen. Short hallway with bedrooms. And two captors. Dennis and Lydia. Dennis, who hardly talked. And Lydia, the bitch. They didn't seem like lovers, just partners—though Maris could have sworn she'd heard grunting and moaning in the other room last night. Why the hell wouldn't they tell her what was going on? Maris sighed and closed her eyes against a rush of lingering dizziness. Coma. She'd been in a coma. She'd woken, what—three days ago? Four? She could walk a little now, from room to room, or into the shower —but always with help. She thought she could probably walk unassisted if she had to. But maybe she didn't need to advertise that—at least until she knew more.

Dennis had promised to fill her in when she was stronger. Right now he was rubbing at his temples, as though waiting for some instruction. He didn't have visible implants, but Maris was pretty sure he had them. Lydia, too. Maris closed her eyes, picturing the back of her neck where her own implants were mercifully silent. Dennis claimed to have deactivated them. Crude things they were, used only for sadistic control by her captors at DeNoble.

But they have implants, these two. They're pirates. What more do I need to know about them?

She couldn't stop the hatred from welling up; couldn't stop the memories. The slavery, the rapes and attempted rapes, the degradation. She couldn't stop any of it from coming back. But she could keep it inside. Her hand shook on the teacup, and she put her hand in her lap and held one fist clenched tightly together with the other. She waited until the wash of nausea subsided and she could breathe again.

She grunted softly, looking over at the window. She wondered if she had any chance of running away. Hah. She'd be lucky to make the door. Or maybe the backyard.

She had no idea where she was, other than the planet Faber Eridani. But why would pirates hold her here? If she'd been recaptured, why didn't they just take her back? Were they waiting for a ship? That was probably it; they were awaiting transport, and when it came, they'd whisk her away. All this anguish for nothing. Where was Legroeder? Everything after their escape was a blank. Her only friend; she barely knew him; but as far as she was concerned, he was her best friend in the world. If he was alive.

If I get a chance, I must... must...

She drew a slow breath. She had to make a break if the opportunity arose. But she needed to know more. "It might help me recover faster," she said to Dennis, "if you told me what was going on."

Lydia walked in with sandwiches and a carafe of tea. "Christ, doesn't she ever give up?"

"Sign of recovery," Dennis said with a shrug.

"Great. So glad you're feeling better," Lydia said sarcastically. She handed Maris a sandwich and slid back onto the bench in front of her security console.

Maris frowned and took a bite. The sandwich had a pungent, unidentifiable taste. She swallowed the first bite with difficulty and washed it down with some tea. To Dennis she said, "You're with the Kyber. Are you planning to take me back?" As soon as the words were out, she regretted them.

If Dennis was surprised, he didn't show it. He looked noncommittal and said simply, "We're just keeping you out of the way."

"Excuse me?"

"It's for your own good," Lydia said, with her back still turned.

"For my own good?" That's why you took me out of a hospital?

"Yes." Dennis propped his beam rifle against the wall. As if reading her thoughts, he added, "It was necessary. Before others got to you."

"What—others—?" Maris whispered, trying not to tremble. She'd escaped, fair and square. She shouldn't have to be going through this. Where am I, damn you? Where is Legroeder? "What others?" she repeated.

Dennis rubbed a scar on the side of his nose. "The Spacing Authority, for one."

Maris stared at him. She was being protected from the planetside authorities? So they were planning to take her back to the pirate stronghold.

"They do not welcome raider escapees."

Maris nodded slowly. "Who else?"

Dennis shrugged and picked up the rifle again. "Various interests. There are many, on this planet." Maris opened her mouth, closed it.

"None in our backyard at the moment, though," Lydia muttered, leaning over the console. "At least I don't think so. There was a bit of a blip there for a second, but nothing on the sensors now."

Looking from one to the other, Maris tried to comprehend. "What does that mean? Who is your enemy? Who are you fighting?"

"Not fighting anyone," Dennis said. "We're hiding." "And that's why you have all these guns?"

"There are bad people out there—all right?" Lydia snapped. Standing, she flexed her right hand. A palm beamer appeared in it, and she checked its charge. "You ask too many damn questions. We're here to protect you, and that's all you need to know." To Dennis, she said, "I'm taking a walk around the grounds."

"It's raining."

Lydia snorted. "So that means we don't keep a watch?" Dennis shrugged.

"But—" Maris said, then fell silent as Lydia banged the door on her way out.

Dennis began breaking down his rifle again.

Maris sighed, reclined her chair, and closed her eyes to try to nap.

* * *

Morgan Mahoney stood in the rain with Pew and Georgio, peering down the wooded hillside. They were somewhere outside the rural community of Forest Hills. The house below the tree line was the one that Pew had identified as the supposed residence of a Mr. Lerner—the newcomer in town who was reported to have been seen meeting the car used in the abduction of Maris. Morgan pulled her rain cloak tighter, thinking, anyone who would kidnap a woman in a coma probably wouldn't greet her and her friends with open arms.

Georgio, the Gos'n, could not seem to stand still. He was constantly stretching his three long tentacle-ended arms in restless movement. His short-stalked eyes swiveled constantly, taking in the surroundings. He was not an easy person to hide, ordinarily, but he was very good at observing. Fortunately, there was plenty of cover here, and they had a sensor-defeating camouflage mesh drawn across the bushes in front of them. The wooded surroundings that made the house inconspicuous from the road also made it relatively easy to set up for observation.

"I've identified six probable surveillance sensors on the outside of the building," said Pew, keeping his foghorn voice muffled. The Swert dipped his horselike snout as he put away his remote detection gear. "There's no telling what weapons they might have. At the verrry least, I expect they carry sidearms."

"Like that one?" said Georgio, pointing down the hill with his third arm-tentacle.

"Eh?" said Pew.

Morgan saw a woman coming out of the house, crouching in the rain as she circled the clearing, peering one direction and then another—probably checking for intruders. The woman's hand flexed, revealing a palm weapon. For a moment, she stared in their direction; but the camouflage screen seemed to hide them, because she moved on, circling the house. She disappeared around the far side of the house and did not reappear.

"So they ar-r-re armed," Pew murmured.

"No charging in, then," said Georgio.

Morgan scowled. "What should we do?"

"Well, I suppos-s-se that we could amble peaceably up to the front door," said Pew.

"Without the police?"

The Swert scratched his great head with a long-nailed hand. "I would prefer-r-r to keep the police out of this for as long as possible. The other option is to wait and see whether there's any actual sign of Miss O'Hare."

"You know what I think?" Georgio said suddenly, rising in alarm. He pointed with a tentacle at a point beyond the house. "I think we'd better find out who those people are."

Morgan suddenly felt chilled to the bone by the rain. Who—? Then she saw the movement. There were two— no, three—people in the woods on the far side of the house, apparently also watching the property. Now, who the hell would they be?

"Do you suppose the police followed the same leads we did?" Pew murmured.

"I don't believe it's the police," said Georgio, his eyes shifting from side to side as he used his natural zoom lenses. "They're not in uniform. Human, though."

"Let's have a look." Pew raised a pair of high-powered binocs. He peered for a few moments, then handed them to Morgan.

The binocs were too large for her, but she managed to sight through one lens. She pressed the RELOCATE button, then clicked in for a sharp closeup—or as sharp as she could get, filtered through the rain. Two men and one woman. She frowned. One of the men looked familiar.

"I think I recognize one of them," she said, lowering the glasses.

"Indeed?" said Pew, taking the binocs from her and touching them to his compad for download.

Morgan squinted across the distance. "I can't be certain. But I remember looking over some reports on Centrist Strength with my mother—and someone who looked like one of those men was in the pictures."

Georgio made a tssking sound. "Why would Centrist Strength care about—"

"Just a moment and I'll tell you," Pew interrupted. A moment later, he looked up from his compad. "She's right." He nodded to Morgan. "Well done, Miss Mahoney. The images match. Both of those men, in fact, are in the Centrist Strength database. The woman I don't know."

"Then that means someone else is holding Maris," Morgan said.

"It also means we'd better be figuring out how to get her out of there," said Georgio.

"But how?" said Pew. "That's the question. How?"

Morgan looked from one to the other, but saw no answer. She shivered and hugged the rain cloak to her neck as she gazed down at the silent house.

* * *

Major Talbott used his spy-glasses to study the house through the trees. There'd been no sign of activity except for the occasional circuit of the house by the Kyber woman. Kyber woman! He still didn't understand what was going on here. Somehow everything had gotten turned around. The Kyber were supposed to be the ones he was working with. And now it turned out they were set to raid a house held by Kyber agents! Well, it was on the authority of the frigging Joint Command—meaning the Carlotta people and people like Hizhonor North—but it still didn't make any sense. Weren't the Kyber supposed to be working together? It sure as shit didn't seem like it, the way those guys down there had nabbed the O'Hare woman before Strength could get to her.

All these years of putting his balls on the line for the cause, and he still wasn't sure he trusted the Kyber "alliance." He had to work with Joint Command, but more and more he wondered if the loonies weren't in charge of the asylum.

Damn it all... if he didn't believe so much in...

"So, Major, what are we going to do here?" grumbled the raven-haired woman crouched beside him. "Just stand around taking in the view all day?"

Talbott glared at her. Lieutenant Cassill. Good-looking bitch, but a pain in the ass. Supposed to be a top "field action-group" operative—code for act first, think later, as far as he was concerned. Too bad; he could think of better uses for someone with her looks. "We'll move when I say we move," he muttered finally. "If we botch it, we'll be worse off than before." He glanced at their third member. "You understand that, right, Corporal?"

Corporal Sladdak shrugged. "Right."

Lieutenant Cassill checked her ion rifle. "I don't see what's so important about this woman, anyway."

"She belongs to our sponsors, that's what's important about her."

"Belongs?"

Talbott shrugged in annoyance. "Supposed to be one of their people. She got away. Defected. Whatever." Lieutenant Cassill looked unconvinced.

"You don't have to understand; you just have to do it." "Yes, sir," she said stiffly.

Talbott suppressed a snarl and raised his spy-glasses again.

* * *

The two Fabri natives slipped silently through the trees, moving with urgent speed. The word had come from their village leader, backed up by the informal Fabri intelligence network. Centrist Strength agents were on the move in connection with a kidnapping, and help was requested. A homefolk friend was involved—Harriet Mahoney, who had aided the Fabri on more than one occasion. Look for a human woman with a Swert and a Gos'n. Help them help the offworlder woman, if you can. The Fabri were not exactly freedom fighters, but they weren't afraid to step forward when necessary.

The Fabri reconnoitered carefully as they approached the house in the woods. The taller one, the leader, searched the area around the clearing. "Fffff—two parties," he murmured softly, with a shiver of his wings.

The other set down a ventilated leather case and joined the first in peering. "Those three, they are Strength," he murmured, focusing on three humans about a third of a circle around the house to the right. "They are known to us."

"And over there?" murmured the leader.

The second Fabri shifted his gaze to the left of the clearing. "Ah—the two aliens and the woman. They are Mrs. Mahoney's people. They are here for the missing one."

"Shall we make contact, then?"

* * *

Georgio was the first to see them. He muttered something guttural, and Morgan turned her head and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of two approaching Fabri natives, clad in white. How did they move so silently? She placed a hand on Georgio's tentacle-arm, the one with the weapon. "They've come to talk," she said quietly.

Pew's foghorn voice was surprisingly soft as he addressed the two Fabri males, "May we help you?"

One of the two fluttered his wings slightly. "That's precisely what we intended to ask. Are you the friends of Vegas?"

Morgan's heart raced. "She works for my mother." "Then you are here to attempt to free the offworlder woman?" asked the second Fabri.

"We are."

"Then may we offer our assistance—?"

* * *

The shorter Fabri opened the leather case he was carrying and hoisted out a sinuous white animal. "This is a ferrcat," he said softly, cradling the animal in his arms. "Its name is N'tari." He was silent a moment, peering into the ferrcat's eyes. There seemed to be a wordless exchange between the two. The ferrcat rolled its head from side to side, hissing softly. "She senses the woman," the Fabri said. "Alive. And conscious. Weak, but well."

The other Fabri unslung his weapon, a thistlegun. "Quickly, then. Before we are seen." He bowed briefly to the others. "With your permission, I will move to another position, to offer additional protection." Without waiting for a reply, he melted into the trees.

His companion spoke softly to the ferrcat, touching the glowing jewel hanging from its collar. Then he set the cat down. It stretched languorously for a moment, then suddenly flashed into motion, darting down through the brush in a fast zigzag, and out of the woods. It paused at the edge of the lawn, peering up into the treetops as though checking for birds; then it sauntered on toward the house.

"I have asked N'tari to find the woman and lead her to us. Now, we shall have to wait and see..." With those words, the Fabri raised his own thistlegun to the ready.

* * *

Maris woke up wondering why she was suddenly hearing voices. Or imagining voices, a soft mewling in her mind...

This way, Maris... this way to a friend...

She shivered, wondering if her captors had reactivated her implants. They'd claimed to have saved her life by turning them off; but what was to prevent them from switching them back on to keep her under their control?

But this hadn't felt like a controlling force; it was more like a living voice. Not hostile. Friendly.

Come to the window. Come and you'll see me... There it was again.

Come to the window.

Like a purring in her mind. Come...

She rubbed her forehead. Well, why not? She could make it if she moved carefully. She heard Dennis clattering in the kitchen, and Lydia down the hall. If she got up slowly, now... if anyone saw her, she was just... going to the window.

Maris pushed herself to her feet, staggering a little. She caught her balance and stepped away from the chair. Dennis was clinking glassware. No sign of Lydia. Three more steps. She reached the living room window and gripped the sill.

Hello... there you are...

She peered through the curtain at an overgrown lawn, leading out to a woods. A light rain was falling.

A small face popped up on the other side of the glass. She stifled a cry. It wasn't a human face; it was an animal. White. Like a large cat or weasel... wearing a collar with something glowing on it...

I can show you the way out.

Maris drew back, startled. Was the thing speaking in her mind? Maybe that glowing thing on its collar was doing it. The animal dropped out of sight. Maris leaned forward to peer out and down. The animal was on all fours on the ground. It was the size of a large house cat, with a bushy tail. It glanced up at her, then trotted toward the back door. To meet her?

Maris drew a breath. What was this all about? Faber Eridani was apparently full of hostiles. It would be insane to trust this animal. Wouldn't it?

She remembered her determination to run, if she could.

The touch of the animal's mind was reassuring. She sensed an earnestness. This way. My friends sent me. Your friends. Friends of Harriet. Friends of Legroeder. You know Legroeder?

Maris stiffened. Had she heard right? She pressed her face to the window again. The animal was standing outside the back door, staring up at it expectantly.

"What are you doing?"

Maris jerked back from the window, staggering a little. Lydia glared from the hallway.

"I'm just—"

"Well, you shouldn't be—"

"Shouldn't be up without help," said Dennis, interrupting Lydia as he came in from the kitchen. "Still, can't blame you for being curious, I suppose."

"We're supposed to be keeping her safe!" Lydia snarled. She pointed a finger at Maris. "Do not expose yourself like that!"

"But I was just—"

"Miss O'Hare," said Dennis, "please stay away from the windows. We don't know who might be out there."

Maris allowed herself to look more confused than she felt. "But you're keeping an eye out with all these sensors, aren't you?" She shot a glance at the console.

Dennis opened his palms. "True. There's no need to get all worked up."

Lydia scowled. "Look—just be more careful, all right?" She hooked a thumb at Dennis. "Let's talk."

Dennis shrugged and followed Lydia out into the kitchen.

Maris's pulse quickened. Her chance? Was she crazy? Friend of Harriet and Legroeder—come quickly!

Her heart was pounding like a drum. What the hell was she thinking? But if this was for real...

Voices came from the kitchen:

"She's not a goddamn house guest, you know!" Lydia sounded furious.

"Look, the orders were just that she's to be held—" "Held, you moron. Held."

"But for safety—"

Lydia's voice dropped in volume, but the contempt was sharper than ever. "...are we going to keep her safe if she's sticking her goddamn face out the goddamn window—?"

Maris was surprised to realize that she'd crossed half the distance to the door while listening to the exchange from the kitchen. Her hand was reaching out.

Be quick! To safety! Before the others get here!

An image filled her mind of people approaching in the woods, strangers even less friendly than her captors here in the house. Maris shuddered, and pulled her hand back. "...keep her the same way we'd keep any prisoner!" "But the commander said we could—"

"What? The less she knows the better. You know that." "You were the one who said—"

I sense your fear. I can lead you to help.

Maris squeezed the door handle. What am I doing? What will happen if I stay?

You don't want to meet the others.

There was a bang in the kitchen. "We better not leave her alone in there."

"Well, it's not as if she can—"

Maris yanked the handle and staggered out of the house. Raindrops struck her face. Fragments of memory of her escape from the outpost cascaded into her mind— the confusion, the urgency and fear, the need to escape now. Blood rushed in her ears.

Quickly... quickly...

The animal was waving its front paws like an excited dog. The pendant on its collar was pulsing with pink light. Now, Miss Maris! Follow!

"Okay," she whispered, surrendering all reason, except that this creature had spoken the name of Legroeder, the only friend she knew. The creature sprang to the right, away from the house. Maris followed on shaky legs. An alarm was trilling.

"She's gone out!"

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

There was a pounding of footsteps.

* * *

"Major," said the corporal, "who's that coming out of the house?"

Talbott peered down through the woods.

"There she is!" shouted Lieutenant Cassill. "It's her."

Jezu. "Let's get moving! Get her!" Talbott shoved the underbrush aside with his rifle as he leaped downward toward the clearing.

* * *

"There she is—!" shouted an unfamiliar woman's voice.

Maris hesitated, turning her head.

"Get her!" called a man's voice from the same direction.

No! cried the animal. Follow me!

Maris ran dizzily after the scurrying creature. "You stupid bitch!" screamed Lydia.

A plasma beam crackled across the wet grass behind her, and there was a muffled shriek of pain.

* * *

"What's the ferrcat doing—look! There's a woman coming out!" rasped Georgio, pointing a tentacle-arm.

Morgan rose from behind the bushes, stunned. "That's her, that's Maris! She's alive. She's running!"

"She's following the animal," Pew boomed in his foghorn voice.

"There she is!" shouted a voice from the far side of the clearing. Morgan blinked, then realized that it was one of the Centrist Strength people. Another voice shouted, and then a door banged, and a different woman's voice: "...stupid bitch!"

"We've got to move!" Morgan hissed. "Now!" She jumped up to shout to Maris, but Pew's large, horny hand shoved her back down. A shot crackled across the lawn; the flash had come from the far side of the clearing. A woman screamed in pain. Not Maris.

"NOW!" boomed Pew, leaping out to crash downward through the bushes. A weapon had materialized in his hand. Georgio leaped after him, and Morgan scrambled to follow. Maris was running in their direction, after the ferrcat.

More shots. From the house, from the woods; it was dizzying, and Morgan couldn't tell who was shooting at whom. But the woman she'd seen circling the house earlier was down in a heap, and the Centrist Strength trio were crashing down through the brush across the way. Morgan cupped her hands and shouted, "Maris—KEEP GOING! Stay down!"

Pew and Georgio dropped for cover, and Pew's great hand swung up, aiming his weapon across the clearing.

The fleeing Maris saw the movement of the gun and dove into the grass even as Pew shouted, "Get down, Miss O'Hare!"

Morgan sucked a breath, expecting to see fire erupt from Pew's weapon. The three Centrists, bursting into the clearing, were exchanging fire not with Pew but with someone in the house. But before Pew could fire, Morgan heard the zzzip of a thistlegun. She saw the Fabri in the trees to her right taking another aim. One of the Centrist Strength men was down, and the other was staggering back. The Centrist Strength woman grabbed the second man and pulled him back toward cover.

Another man, apparently from inside the house, came around the corner—and fell face down with a smoking hole in his back. The Centrist Strength woman swung her weapon around, looking for another target, then retreated before a hail of thistledarts.

The Fabri who had fired gestured to Morgan and her friends, waving them forward. Morgan launched herself down through the brush, and out onto the lawn.

Maris was crawling along the ground now. The ferrcat was leading her straight toward Morgan. "Maris!" Morgan gasped, sliding to her knees on the wet grass beside the woman. "We're here to help. To take you to safety."

"Who are you?" whispered Maris fiercely, struggling to rise. "Are you—"

"Friends of Legroeder. Friends of Legroeder. Come with us now, quickly."

Maris gasped and forced herself up. "How do I know you're—"

"You've got to trust us. Come on. Just a little farther." Pew and Georgio were at her side now. Pew lifted Maris effortlessly and carried her up into the forest at a run.

Glancing back, Morgan saw one of the two Fabristanding watch, thistlegun at the ready. The closer one whistled in a shrill tone, and the ferrcat ran back to him, a streak of white through the brush. Morgan gasped her thanks to the Fabri. He merely nodded, catching the ferrcat. Georgio kept his weapon raised, covering her retreat.

Morgan beat a fast path up through the woods to Pew and Maris, then fled with them across the ridge toward the waiting car.

Chapter 36 - RETURN TO IVAN

"What the hell happened to you?" Glenswarg demanded.

Legroeder was standing in front of a mirror, wondering the same thing. The face that looked back at him was thin, dark-haired, and olive-skinned. The eyes were blue. It was his face, the face he'd had all his life, until the Narseil surgeons ran their camouflage job on him. There was no hint at all of the pale skin or the umbrella-cut white hair. Which probably explained why half the bridge crew had stared at him as he'd left the rigger-station after the battle.

Something happened during the quantum passage. Had a part of him gone back in time?

“ Our internal records are incomplete for that period. But there may have been spontaneous activity by the residual plastic-surgical agents in your bloodstream... “

Legroeder grunted to himself and turned to the captain. "This is what I look like. What I'm supposed to look like." The three Narseil were standing behind the captain, and they appeared to be suppressing laughter—Cantha and Palagren, anyway. Ker'sell merely looked perplexed, his vertical eyes slightly crossed.

Glenswarg was scowling, though. "Do you intend to explain?"

Legroeder sighed. (You really don't know what happened?) he asked the implants.

“ Negative. Internal recordkeeping failed during the passage. Or rather, was crowded out by a massive influx of data concerning the structure of the flaw—which, by the way, you wil find very interesting. “

(Yeah? What kind of data?) He was aware of Glenswarg staring at him, still waiting for an answer.

“ We're still analyzing. But you saw more during that passage than you might have realized. We must consider very carefuly how to use it... “

Thoughts spinning, Legroeder forced a grin at Glenswarg and began stammering out an explanation. "What I looked like before... was a form of camouflage, you might say. It was before we were all working together..."

Glenswarg's frown only deepened.

* * *

During the flight back, Legroeder thought often about what the implants had said about the quantum flaw data. He could never quite get them to elaborate clearly; they were always still analyzing. But his own memories were beginning to come back in flickering bursts. Splinters of light fracturing off in all directions, like the needles of a new-born ice crystal... quantum flaws entwined through the Flux... The visions gave him shivers of awe and fear. Just how closely had his implants traced the positions of those flaws, anyway?

He debriefed with Glenswarg, and discussed the passage with his rigger-mates. The Narseil were absorbed in their own detailed studies of the instrumentation data. They weren't sure what to make of Legroeder's observations—they had caught intimations of the sprawling proliferation of the flaw, but few details; but then each of them had seen features no one else had seen. Legroeder found himself wondering how long it would take his implants to complete their own analysis. He missed Deutsch, who was still aboard Impris, flying in formation with the fleet. They spoke on flux-com from time to time, but that wasn't the same thing as sitting down together. Legroeder wanted to know what Deutsch had really gone though during the passage.

He also wondered what kind of reception they were going to receive from Yankee-Zulu/Ivan. YZ/I, of course, should be delighted to see them pull in with Impris; but would he be as happy to keep his end of the bargain once Impris was parked in his dock? And what about Tracy¬Ace/Alfa? His thoughts veered one way and then another as he thought about her: remembering her eyes, her touch, the flowing connection between them... and then thinking, what if she had only been used to set him up?

Would she still be there for him, now that the job was done?

And what of Maris, and Harriet—and Harriet's grandson? And now that he'd found Impris, would he succeed in clearing his name at last?

No wonder he felt so damned anxious.

* * *

Watching from the bridge as Phoenix docked at Outpost Ivan, Legroeder struggled with a new set of mixed emotions. He could not believe, watching as the Kyber riggers brought the ship in to the outer docks of the Kyber fortress, how much like home Outpost Ivan looked to him. The last thing he wanted was to feel at home here. With luck, that wouldn't be a problem for long.

Cantha appeared at his side. "Troubled?" the Narseil asked. Legroeder nodded. "Well, if you're thinking what I'm thinking... we are not entirely without resources."

Legroeder turned and gazed at the stocky Narseil.

Cantha scratched under the neck of his Narseil khakis; he hadn't had a decent soak in a pool since leaving H'zzarrelik, and the thick crest on the back of his neck was looking pretty flaky. "I was just thinking," Cantha said as he turned to view the fleet movement in the monitors, "that we learned an awful lot of new rigging science out there, and we haven't really even sorted it all out among ourselves." His slitted, vertical eyes shifted to catch Legroeder's gaze. "But it could be very useful—to many people. If you know what I mean."

Legroeder glanced around at the Kyber crewmen on the bridge. Useful, indeed. "I think I do, yes," he said, drawing a deep breath. "I think I do."

* * *

The escort ships fell back to allow tugs to bring Impris into dock; Phoenix docked alongside the passenger liner. The procedure seemed to take forever, but eventually Captain Glenswarg called, "Shut down engines." Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to Legroeder and the Narseil. "Gentlemen, you've discharged your duties well. You may collect your things and go stationside." He shook each of their hands. "Good work, riggers. It's been one hell of an experience having you aboard, that's for sure." It was the closest thing to levity Legroeder had ever heard from Glenswarg.

"It's been an experience working with you, too, sir," Legroeder said, cracking half a smile. "I suppose we might see you around the station?"

"I suppose we might," Glenswarg agreed. With a brisk salute, he turned back to his bridge duties. Legroeder and the Narseil trooped off to the airlock.

If Legroeder was hoping they might be greeted by Tracy-Ace in the docking bay, he was unsurprised to find a security escort instead. The leader of the escort, ears bristling with augments, bowed. "Riggers, Yankee¬Zulu/Ivan welcomes you back, and requests a meeting at the earliest opportunity."

"Um—" Legroeder said, squinting at the man's name badge. Lieutenant Zond, it looked like. "Certainly. But do you mind if we see our colleagues off Impris first? We've had quite a time of it."

"Of course," the lieutenant said, gesturing down the platform. "That was the next thing I was going to say. We're about to have the formal opening of the Impris hatch. First time in a hundred years, I understand. Of course we want all of you to be on hand."

Not quite the first time, Legroeder thought dryly, but confined himself to saying, "A hundred twenty-four years, actually."

Lieutenant Zond gave no sign of having heard, but led the way around to the Impris docking platform. A clear wall afforded a breathtaking view of the ship, like a great silver whale. About a third of the way down its hull, a circle of security people surrounded the main hatch. In the middle of the circle stood Tracy-Ace/Alfa.

Legroeder's heartbeat quickened as he saw her gesturing and giving orders. Lieutenant Zond brought them through the circle. It took Tracy-Ace a few moments to notice them; she turned with a big grin, her eyes shining—and did a double take when she saw Legroeder's hair. She didn't say a word about it, but strode forward with an outstretched hand to greet him. "Rigger Legroeder! Welcome back to Outpost Ivan!"

Legroeder had been wondering how he should greet her. Taking her cue, he clasped her hand in an official welcome. He felt an electric tingle at her touch, and her beaming if slightly unfocused smile. For a moment, he felt a giddy desire to enfold her in his arms; but then the tingle fled, and her smile and hand moved on, leaving him empty as she turned to his Narseil friends. "Welcome back, all of you! And congratulations! You've accomplished an astounding feat!" Tracy-Ace made a sweeping gesture to the starliner. "Impris! You brought her back safely! Who would have believed it?"

As she marveled, Legroeder found himself feeling ignored by Tracy-Ace. Is it because we're in public? Or is something going on? He cleared his throat. Don't be a fool; she could hardly hug you in front of everyone, could she? I don't care; I don't like being ignored. He cleared his throat again. "Did you get our preliminary report?"

"Indeed, we did," boomed a voice beside him, and Legroeder turned to see a larger-than-life holo of Yankee-Zulu/Ivan floating beside him. "It's an incredible story. Simply incredible. We want to hear every detail."

Legroeder inclined his head in acknowledgment, wondering why YZ/I had chosen to appear in holo, rather than in person.

"We're expecting the Impris officers to emerge momentarily," Tracy-Ace said, her temple implants racing with activity. For an instant Legroeder thought he caught the familiar twinkle in her eye, and he suppressed a flutter of excitement. "We have people standing by to give Impris a royal welcome. We've got medical teams, engineering teams, hospitality teams..."

Hospitality teams? Legroeder suddenly saw a new holo —a large brass ensemble poised just outside the circle. Okay... He let out a long, slow breath, waiting for the hatch to open. Trying to ignore Tracy-Ace. Focus on Impris... on the mysteries of the ghost ship, the Flying Dutchman of space. It would soon be crawling with Kyber techs. He felt a sudden surge of resentment. Damn it, these were his mysteries to reveal, his and the others who had gone through it with him.

A shout went up. A dark opening appeared in the airlock. The brass ensemble played a triumphant fanfare. And now, emerging ahead of the other officers and crew, were Captain Noel Friedman and Rigger Freem'n Deutsch. The captain's face looked as if it were about to crack, straining between joy and solemnity; but Deutsch, though his facial expressions were concealed behind metal skin, appeared to Legroeder to be grinning from ear to ear.

"Welcome back to civilization!" boomed the voice of YZ/I.

"Thank you," Friedman whispered, looking around.

Legroeder could not contain himself. He strode forward to greet Friedman and Deutsch. "Captain!" he cried. "Freem'n! Am I glad to see you!"

The solemnity on Captain Friedman's face finally cracked. "Halleluiah!" he cried, raising his hands joyfully. "Landfall! By God, I never thought I'd see the day again!" He cocked his head in puzzlement, as he pumped Legroeder's hand. "Is that you, Legroeder? What the hell's happened to your hair, man?"

"Well, it's, uh—" Legroeder gestured helplessly "—I'll have to explain later." He suddenly realized he wasn't observing any kind of protocol here. "Captain Friedman, may I introduce you to the leader of the Outpost, Yankee¬Zulu/Ivan?" He gestured to the holo of YZ/I, who was lit up like a Christmas tree. "And Tracy-Ace/Alfa, YZ/I's right-hand assistant."

"Welcome to Outpost Ivan of the Free Kyber Republics," Tracy-Ace said smoothly, stepping forward. "We're delighted to see Impris, and to extend our hospitality to you, to your crew, and to all of your passengers."

The brass ensemble struck up another welcoming tune.

Friedman bowed with obvious relief. "Thank you. Thank you all for coming to the aid of my ship and crew. We are honored to accept your hospitality." He gestured to the emerging officers. "Needless to say, we are eager to get back to our home port. But we would be most grateful for your assistance with repairs and supplies and so on."

Freem'n Deutsch stood just behind Friedman, looking inscrutable. Legroeder held his breath, watching Tracy-Ace.

Tracy-Ace bowed. "Captain, we will assist you with medical treatment and whatever else you need."

"Indeed," said YZ/I's holo. "And after all the time you've been away, we hope you might enjoy a look at our modest outpost. I think you'll find it rather different from Faber Eridani."

"Yes, of course," Friedman said. But a shadow had crept over his face. "We certainly appreciate the offer of help. Including the medical—though I'm afraid for many of our people, the needs are more psychological than medical. It has been... a difficult ordeal."

"We understand—and we'll do our best," Tracy-Ace promised.

"Some of them," Friedman continued, "might be reluctant to leave the ship. It is difficult to explain..."

"Then our people will go to them," Tracy-Ace said. "Captain, we would very much like to study your ship. We hope to find some explanation for what you and your crew have gone through."

"Certainly, you may look," Friedman said. "But I think you'll learn more from the riggers who brought us out. Rigger Deutsch here. Rigger Legroeder. The Narseil."

Legroeder suddenly knew why he felt a slowly tightening knot in his stomach. Yes, it was the riggers who knew; the ship would tell them nothing. And it was he and the Narseil who knew most of all. And that made them a valuable—perhaps dangerously valuable— commodity. Was it his imagination, or was Deutsch peering at him with eyes that seemed to reflect his own thoughts?

He spoke suddenly, to release the tension. "I believe you're right, Captain. It's not the ship we need to understand; it's the Flux. My Narseil colleagues and I have been working very hard to formulate answers—for all of us." He turned to YZ/I and Tracy-Ace. "We'll be happy to go over it all with you at your earliest convenience." But I don't know how you're going to take what we have to say.

"The sooner the better," rumbled the image of YZ/I. "Why don't you come on down now?"

Tracy-Ace's implants flickered with intense activity. She cocked her head and raised a hand. "Excellent idea. Lieutenant Zond, would you care to escort—?"

* * *

It was probably just as well that Tracy-Ace wasn't with them, Legroeder thought as they approached YZ/I's operations center. He had enough to think about right now without wondering what was going on in her mind. Freem'n was at his side, but they'd had no chance to talk privately. Behind them walked all of the Narseil except Agamem, who'd been sent to report back to Commander Fre'geel. Legroeder's thoughts were starting to percolate with memories of the passage, and a flood of further questions, many of them coming from the implants in his skull. It was going to be hard to keep his head clear for this meeting.

A man was just leaving YZ/I's command platform as they approached—a dark-haired, red-skinned man. It took Legroeder a moment to place him; he was the one who'd argued with YZ/I and Tracy-Ace during their previous meeting. He searched his memory for the man's name. Lanyard/GC. Old boyfriend of Tracy-Ace's or something. A pain in the ass. Legroeder was glad he was leaving, not arriving.

"Thank you for sharing your concerns with me," YZ/I called after Lanyard, who seemed to give a silent snort. As he passed, Lanyard glanced at Legroeder and the Narseil with what seemed a mix of curiosity and derision.

Legroeder forgot Lanyard as YZ/I boomed out, "Wonderful to see you! All of you! Come in, come in!" The glowing man greeted Legroeder with a hearty handshake. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. And here you are! Incredible mission—just fantastic!" YZ/I's face rippled with light as he waved them all into the command section of his operations center. He sealed the section off with an opaque force-screen. "So, Legroeder. How's it feel to be back?"

Legroeder laughed, in spite of himself. "Glad to be here. Glad to be alive."

"I can imagine," said YZ/I. He studied Legroeder for a moment. "Nice haircut, by the way. Did you do that yourself?"

Legroeder sighed deeply. He thought he heard the Narseil chuckling behind him. "You could say that, I suppose." He cleared his throat. "Anyway—we're here, and we're ready to report."

"Excellent." YZ/I rubbed his hands together expectantly. "I wish I could have been there at the docks in person. But I'm afraid that... well, certain political concerns precluded that. I do apologize. Now, tell me everything. Everything that happened. Everything you learned." His face and body shimmered with moving patches of color. YZ/I spread his hands and looked piercingly at Legroeder.

Legroeder frowned, trying to frame words. "I can tell you what happened," he said finally. "But telling you what we learned—that's going to be more difficult."

"Then let's start with what's easy," YZ/I said.

Legroeder felt momentarily at a loss; he gestured helplessly to his fellow riggers.

"Come, gentlemen," YZ/I laughed. "Impris is sitting in my docking port. You found her." He clapped his hands together. "Don't be bashful. Tell me how you did it."

"Perhaps I can summarize," said Cantha. And in a husky murmur, the Narseil gave a recap of the search for and discovery of Impris. He paused for breath, then briefly explained how the time instabilities had forced their hasty departure.

YZ/I's eyes were intense with interest. "So the key discovery in all of this was the spacetime... 'quantum flaw.' Is that right?" He rummaged in his seat pockets until he found a cigar. He inspected it thoughtfully, as though by mulling over the cigar he might comprehend the meaning of the phrase, quantum flaw.

"Yes," Legroeder said, finding his voice again. "And we can't explain it fully, because we don't understand it fully. We can tell you how we got into the flaw, and how we got out, but I'm not sure we can tell you why."

YZ/I stopped in the middle of lighting his cigar. "You don't know why you did what you did?"

"We know why we made certain decisions. But in the larger sense—it all happened so fast that by the end we were operating almost wholly on instinct."

YZ/I puffed. "And once it was over, and you had some time to reflect back on it?"

Legroeder snorted. "Once we got out of the flaw, we had a little something else to think about—a ship named Hunter. I presume Captain Glenswarg informed you about our brush with KM/C?"

"Yes, he did," YZ/I said. "It was exactly as we feared —Carlotta did not take kindly to having their prize lure taken out of the water."

"No." Legroeder reflected back on the discovery that his former captain was trying to kill him. "No, they did not."

"Well, I'm glad our people were able to take care of it without too much trouble," YZ/I said casually. "I understand you people were very good in the fight, too."

"Thank you," said Palagren with, Legroeder noted, a dry Narseil sarcasm that YZ/I almost certainly missed.

"But back to what you were saying—about your findings."

"Well—" Legroeder drew a deep breath "—we don't have a definitive picture of the quantum flaw yet. We do have a huge amount of information that we're still analyzing." And mapping? Is that what's going to come out of all this?

YZ/I stared at him for a moment. "Still analyzing. Okay. But tell me this: are my ships in danger of disappearing into the quantum flaw the way Impris did? If you recall, that was one of the things I sent you to find out." He rippled with white light, flicking his gaze from one rigger to the next.

Legroeder's head hurt, buzzing with a sudden burst of activity from the implants. "I think they are," he said at last.

"You think they are? You think they're in danger?"

Legroeder drew another slow breath under YZ/I's glare, and caught a slight nod from Palagren and Cantha. "Let me rephrase. The danger exists, definitely. It can happen again, and probably will. But I can't tell you—yet— exactly where the dangers exist..." He shook his head; it suddenly felt full of cobwebs. He wasn't purposely being vague. And yet his thoughts... what the devil was going on?

"Why not?" YZ/I demanded, puffing smoke. "Are you saying you don't have the knowledge? Or that you aren't planning to share it with us?" His voice was suddenly full of needles.

"Uh—"

Palagren raised a hand to interrupt. "May I be so bold as to ask a question in return?"

YZ/I cocked his head, frowning. "You may ask."

"Thank you. I was just wondering, what would we expect in return for providing that kind of information?"

YZ/I's eyes narrowed. He clicked his teeth together, though whether in surprise or admiration of Palagren's bluntness wasn't clear. "Well, I promised you the ship, and your freedom, didn't I?"

He paused a beat, and Palagren said, "When?" "Eventually. What do you want? Some kind of preferred treatment?"

Palagren opened his mouth and closed it. "Could you define 'eventually'? And 'preferred treatment'?"

YZ/I glared around his cigar. "Better than nonpreferred treatment. Let's quit screwing around. How useful is your information?"

Legroeder felt his own lips tighten, as Palagren made a soft hissing sound. Useful isn't the right word, he thought. Indispensable is more like it, if it's what I think it is.

"Look," YZ/I said. His eyes flicked from one to another. "You all went out and risked your lives to bring this ship back, on the strength of my promise to release you. Right? Well, if I repeated that promise now, would it make any difference? I could still renege just as easily, if that's what you're afraid of."

How reassuring, Legroeder thought, noting that YZ/I had not repeated the promise. The Narseil seemed to be waiting for Legroeder to respond; this was human psychological territory. He cleared his throat.

"What?" YZ/I asked.

Legroeder let his breath escape. "We're not trying to hold out on you. But until the information is processed— which we cannot do overnight—there's only so much we can share. Right, Palagren? Cantha?"

Palagren's neck-sail rippled in agreement.

YZ/I squinted through the cigar smoke. "All right, then —let's back off a little. Tell me what you do know. Tell me what it felt like." He waved his hands, inviting elaboration. "You were caught in this fold. Tell me what your instincts told you was going on..."

Palagren made a hissing sound, and began to describe the riggers-eye view of their flight out through the quantum flaw...

* * *

"The passage was utterly harrowing," the Narseil concluded.

"To say the least," Legroeder muttered.

Palagren glanced at him. "And I don't know how repeatable it would be. I think we were very, very lucky."

YZ/I looked troubled, as they by turns described their experiences. He questioned each of them with urgency, and a surprising degree of technical understanding. Legroeder was struck by how similar their impressions were in general, and yet how different in detail. Deutsch, in some ways, had the most interesting experience, since he'd been leading a team of human riggers who were wholly unprepared mentally. "Those men had some images during the transit that I would not want to see again in the net," Deutsch murmured, the modulated tones of his synthetic voice belying the emotions that Legroeder guessed he was feeling. "If we had not been so closely linked to Phoenix, I doubt we'd have made it through."

"I must speak with these Impris riggers," YZ/I mused, when Deutsch finished. "But gentlemen—I'm still waiting to hear what caused Impris to fall into the fold in the first place. Was it just bad luck—or did they do something wrong, eh?" He squinted through the cigar smoke boiling in the air, and suddenly his manner seemed to suggest that they were old friends, catching up. "Was it because they'd rigged together too many times? Or was it their route?" He held out his hands. "Tell me why."

It was Cantha who replied. "We don't know for sure. We had only a brief time with the Impris riggers, before the time distortions forced us to act." Cantha's dark-green cheeks puffed out, and his oval eyes stretched even further, vertically, making him look like a large cobra.

"You have no opinion on why she was trapped, then?"

Cantha flicked his fingers. "If you want my opinion—I believe there was an element of bad luck in the route they followed. They may have frequented a route that took them—perhaps over and over—close to the folds, and the underlying flaw, without their ever being aware of it. They may have been perilously close on those occasions when they reported difficulty. And then, one time, they didn't just come close."

"They fell in?"

"Precisely." Cantha paused. "This flaw is extremely long, and possibly infinite, and branches through several dimensions. I doubt it's an isolated cosmological phenomenon. Other flaws may be closer to the surface in some places and farther in others. But in any case, difficult to detect, with our current state of knowledge."

Legroeder stirred. "Cantha's being way too conservative. Coming out of the flaw, I saw quite clearly... that space is full of these things." He gazed hard at YZ/I. "If you want to find them the hard way, the surest thing you can do is send a whole fleet through the underflux."

A long silence followed, during which YZ/I seemed frozen. Then he breathed again, and rose slowly to his feet. "Gentlemen," he said, "I want to show you something." As he turned, the back wall of his command center paled, and a doorway opened. "If you would follow me, please..."

Legroeder and the others exchanged glances as they followed YZ/I down a darkening passageway. The only light, for a few seconds, came from YZ/I's body, and the tip of his cigar. Then all the darkness around slowly came to life with stars, a sprinkling at first, and then a multitude. The stars were below them as well as above, and on all sides. They seemed to be standing on a narrow catwalk, suspended in space. Legroeder's pulse quickened as he saw the swirl of the galactic spiral arm; then the stars slowly wheeled until they were looking directly into the Sagittarian sector, in the direction of the galactic core. Out in those clusters of stars and nebulas, he knew, lay the Well of Stars, the next great sector of space to be colonized. By the Free Kyber, if YZ/I had his way.

"You know why I've brought you here?" YZ/I asked, his voice reverberating softly among the stars. No one answered. YZ/I raised a hand, and the stars slowly softened to a blur, until they were looking at a vast chart of the Flux, of the territory between where they were now, and the Well of Stars. The view changed gradually, reflecting a descent into ever-deeper levels of the Flux. "Gentlemen, I have only one overriding interest. And that is for you to show me: where are the quantum flaws that endanger my fleet?" He turned and his eyes burned with light. "Rigger Legroeder, you say you saw them. Can you put them on the map for me?"

Legroeder hesitated. He thought about the information that the implants had displayed to him—arrays of spacetime splinters that stretched out toward infinity through the underflux. He felt his implants continuing to buzz as they sifted through the mountains of information. He felt near-certainty that he would, in time, be able to produce just such a map. But not yet. Not until the implants finished their work. For a moment he reached out, as though to touch the Flux. Then he stopped and shook his head. "Not yet. But later, I think—after we've analyzed the information—"

"Later," YZ/I echoed. "I see. And where is all this raw data that you need to analyze?"

Legroeder felt himself unable to speak.

"Some of it is in our data records," Cantha volunteered. "But most—"

"Is where?" YZ/I growled.

Legroeder felt a shortness of breath. Why couldn't he just say it?

Freem'n Deutsch floated forward. "It is in our minds, YZ/I. And our augments. That is probably where the most important part of it is." He glanced at Legroeder. "And Legroeder here... well, you seem to have seen more of it than the rest of us. That talent of yours..."

Legroeder started to speak, but something caught in his mind. He felt as if a fog were settling back around his brain, as if some part of him were resolutely determined not to share with anyone.

"I believe," Cantha said, "that the only way to wholly clarify the information is to bring Impris and her crew to the Narseil Rigging Institute for study. There, I am certain, we will find the answers we need."

A circlet of light slid up YZ/I's body like a ring on a pole. "The Narseil Institute." YZ/I looked as if he were involved in a long inner dialogue, against the swirling colors of the Flux. He was silent a long time. Finally he said, "No, I don't believe that will do. I believe what we will do is study the ship here, quite thoroughly. And see if we can't learn the answers ourselves. Eh?"

The Narseil riggers stiffened. Legroeder tried not to betray the tension in his own throat as he said carefully, "You did promise to release the ship to return home."

YZ/I looked faintly amused. "And so I shall... in due course. But we have extremely capable people here, and here is where the study will be done. After all—would you expect me to believe that the Narseil Institute, if it had custody of Impris, would gladly hand over all of its findings to the Free Kyber Republic?"

The Narseil were silent.

YZ/I leveled a gaze at Legroeder. "And what about the knowledge in your head?"

Legroeder studied the palms of his hands for a moment. "I've... already told you what I saw and felt." Threads of light, a web work of flaws... the beginnings of the map that would come...

"But the rest of it... the hard data..."

Legroeder swallowed.

YZ/I was flickering like a ghost come alive.

Legroeder felt behind his ears. That buzzing vagueness... a feeling of cotton stuffed between himself and the implants. "I don't... know. These are Narseil implants. I'm... having a little trouble getting access to some of the information myself." His voice sounded stupid even to himself, as he said it. What are these damn implants doing to me?

YZ/I pulsed as if he were about to explode. "You're having difficulty gaining access? Well, then—" he glanced at the Narseil "—maybe we can help you get access. We have people here who are quite expert in that sort of work." Legroeder recoiled in alarm, as YZ/I closed his eyes for a moment and appeared to subvocalize. His eyes opened. "Some of my people will be coming to take you to our labs. We'll see what we can do, eh?" He took a puff from his cigar, blew the smoke out into the Flux. "Just helping, you understand. All right?"

Legroeder stared at him, appalled. Helping, he thought, images of DeNoble flashing in his mind. Indoctrination... reinforcement... punishment... I know how the Kyber like to help. "Oh, no you don't," he whispered, barely aware of his own voice speaking.

YZ/I smiled chillingly. "Oh, yes I do." He raised his chin slightly and spoke past him. "Yes, Lieutenant—in here with your men."

Chapter 37 - FINAL ANALYSIS

The room didn't look that terrible, really; it was a plain white laboratory, with a couple of high-backed, padded seats that might have been in a dentist's office. But when the tech pointed toward one of the seats, Legroeder found himself thinking of the outpost's maintainers working in their little artificial world in a vault, and the guards and med-techs who kept them there.

Legroeder kept his gaze implacable and stood unmoving in the center of the room. He wished to hell now he'd fought this business in YZ/I's office, but it hadn't seemed a smart idea at the time. And now his Narseil friends had been whisked away elsewhere, supposedly to report to their own commander. I may have no choice about this, but I'll be damned if I'm going to just step into it for them.

"Please sit, Rigger," said the tech, in a tinny voice that came from a speaker embedded in the front of his throat. "Go fuck yourself."

The tech squinted at him, as if unsure how to proceed in the face of opposition. After a moment, the tech twitched an eyebrow; one of the guards grasped Legroeder's arm to move him toward the seat, and Legroeder yanked it away. "Get your hands off me." The guard grabbed both arms, this time with augmented strength, and lifted him straight into the seat. Before Legroeder could get his breath back, two other guards were strapping him in with restraints that seemed to come out of nowhere. "You bastards," he hissed, gasping for wind. "Are you trying to screw up the data?"

"Certainly not," said the tech, in an admonishing voice. "The boss said that you needed some help in opening access to your augment stores. It may be that your resistance here is being mediated by the augments themselves, so we'll just move things along and do our best not to cause any pain or discomfort. You'll probably find it easier to cooperate once the procedure's underway."

"Like hell I will," he grunted. He found himself suddenly thinking of Bobby Mahoney—who, if he was still alive at all, was probably living a life full of this kind of crap. Legroeder hadn't gotten a chance yet to ask again about the boy. Where the hell's Tracy-Ace when I need her?

The tech smiled faintly. "Bear with me for one moment."

There was a soft whine, and Legroeder just glimpsed out of the corner of his eye a set of padded flaps rotating up from the headrest. Before he could react, his head was clamped in a vice. He felt a tingle in his temples, and an instant paralysis, leaving him with heartbeat, breath, and eye movement—and little else. He saw Lieutenant Zond off to one side, looking studiously indifferent.

"Put your implants into handshake mode," the tech said.

Legroeder tried to snarl, but what came out was a mumble.

"All right, let's see if this works." The tech drew an opaque visor down over Legroeder's eyes.

Legroeder felt a sheet of white noise slide across his consciousness like an ocean wave. Drowning—! His thoughts blurred and lost coherence; he watched his own conscious thought vanish into a haze, like milk swirling into coffee.

He was gasping; his neurons were gasping.

He was twisting on a synaptic connection; something was trying to illuminate the way into the implants attached to his brain. It was finding no entry, but the effort filled him with a sense of violation, and danger. He could not speak...

An external voice rasped and screeed, and another voice answered from within...

“ No connection is possible at this time... “

The screeing voice changed pitch, dropped to a growl. “ No connection is possible... “

A metallic resonance.

“ No connection is possible... “

There was a brief, sharp interaction that set his teeth chattering. Then, with an abrupt thunk, the pressure against his thought let up.

Legroeder tried to refocus; he felt a rush of claustrophobia, his heart racing. There was a rasping sound in his ears, rhythmic and urgent, frightening. His breath.

He tried to cry out. What—are you—doing—to me? The tinny voice of the tech: "This isn't working. Let's try something else here..."

There was a twang, and then the world went away...

*

Incessant heartbeat.

Scratching, a bird's feet on metal.

Pulsing shocks of fear.

Muttering voices, incomprehensible.

Time passing like molasses...

*

More voices, in another time and place, discussing the possibility of surgical extraction of implants... but they were too deeply interwoven into his neural matrix; the risk of killing him was too great...

A pity... it might have been so quick, so easy...

*

When he came to, Legroeder felt dizzy and nauseous, with ringing memories of voices clashing like armies. But the visor was off; he could see. "What... how long...?" he rasped.

A different tech came forward. A woman this time; she had a flesh-and-blood face, thin and birdlike. Her voice was deeper than the previous tech's. "You were out for twelve hours. We couldn't get a thing. You aren't holding your augments back, are you? The Boss assured us you were trying to get access."

Legroeder blinked furiously. His eyes were gritty; his head hurt from the clamp pads. But it hurt even more on the inside.

"We'll keep trying," muttered the tech. "There are some other approaches that might—"

The nearby door slid open. A female voice shouted, "Get him out now, I said!"

Legroeder tried to turn.

"Miss Alfa," said the tech in apparent surprise.

"Do you understand now?" Tracy-Ace/Alfa, in her black work outfit, strode into view, gesturing angrily. The tech seemed frozen in alarm. Tracy-Ace peered down at Legroeder. "My God, what are they doing to you?" She slapped an open palm down on one of the controls. The clamp-pads fell away, releasing him abruptly. Legroeder gasped, his head rolling on the headrest. He could barely control the movement.

A hand on his shoulder, Tracy-Ace bent to peer into his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Uh..." His lips felt as though they'd been anesthetized.

Tracy-Ace yanked open a drawer and snatched out a handheld paramedical probe. She thrust it against his chest. "Hold still. Okay—you're not having a cardiac event—but your cortical activity looks scrambled." Muttering under her breath, she peered into his eyes again. Her augments flickered, illuminating her face. "Rings, Legroeder, I wish I'd gotten here sooner."

"I... it's..." It's all right.

No, it's not all right. Where the hell were you? "Christ, I'm sorry."

"Been here... twelve hours..." His voice was a whisper.

"Damn that fucker! I was with Impris. YZ/I didn't tell me he was sending you here. I'll kill him." Tracy-Ace's brow was furrowed, her gaze deep and probing as she studied him.

Was she telling the truth? He had to steel himself not to be drawn into those eyes. Not until he knew.

She released the straps. "Come on, we're getting out of here." She turned and hollered, "Lieutenant Zond!"

* * *

Back at his quarters, Tracy-Ace fed him a dinner that she'd sent Zond to fetch. Some kind of noodles; he swallowed without noticing the taste. When Tracy-Ace was satisfied that he wouldn't keel over, she said, "You need rest and I need to talk to YZ/I. I'll leave Zond outside, with orders to let no one in except by my authorization."

Legroeder tried to choke back an angry reply. It bubbled up anyway. "A lot of good Zond will be. He's the one who took me to that place. How do I know he won't take me back there the minute you leave?"

Tracy-Ace bristled. "He will obey my orders."

Legroeder flushed. "Were those your orders, for me to be worked over by the inquisition?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "Is that what you think?" "Well, you just said—"

"Damn. That is what you think, isn't it?" She studied Legroeder with narrowed eyes. "I did not send you there. YZ/I did it, without letting me know. I have now transferred authority over Zond back to me."

"And YZ/I can't take it right back?"

Tracy-Ace stared at him hard, the flickering around her eyes slowly dying down. "He won't," she said softly. "I will see to that. Believe me, I will."

Before he could respond, she leaned forward as though to kiss him on the cheek. Instead, she gripped his shoulders and squeezed, giving him a quick hug. Then she was out the door, leaving him reverberating with a welter of confused images from the contact.

Legroeder finished his meal in a state of shock. How much of that was he supposed to believe? He ought to call Deutsch, or the Narseil. But he was so exhausted. He needed to stretch out on his bunk to rest. Just for a few minutes...

When sleep came over him it was deep and filled with angry dreams.

* * *

He dreamed of distant, crackling contact through his implants... flickering images of Tracy-Ace and Yankee¬Zulu/Ivan... and echoes of shouting voices...

Fucking bastard! WHY DID YOU HIDE THAT FROM ME?

Am I supposed to show you everything?

When it matters like that—yes, dammit! You deliberately—

Spared you a distraction when you had other responsibilities. I think you're letting your personal feelings—

Fuck my personal feelings!

Now, Tracy-Ace/Alfa, I suggest you calm down...

CALM DOWN? I'll calm down after I've wrung your miserable neck, you lying manipulative sonofabitch!

Watch your tone, Node Alfa...

It's about the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do. I said, watch your tone...

The connection hissed and faded...

* * *

Legroeder was awakened by Tracy-Ace, bringing breakfast. He sat up, holding his head, trying to sort dream from reality. He could not. "What the devil's going on?" he gasped.

"A lot," she said tightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Lousy." He drew a slow, painful breath. Memories of the inquisition were already crowding out whatever remained of the fragments of his dreams. "I guess returning-hero status is pretty short-lived around here."

"I have just had a long and unpleasant talk with YZ/I about that very question," she said severely, pouring him a cup of murk from a thermal pitcher. She put a plate with a breakfast roll and a citromelon slice in front of him. "Let's just say, your status has been restored."

He squinted, shouting voices echoing in his mind. "Yeah? How wonderful."

She frowned. "You don't believe me."

He didn't look at her. "I didn't say that. Thanks for breakfast."

"Legroeder..." She frowned harder. "You don't believe me, do you?"

He didn't answer, or look up.

"Legroeder, I would have stopped it sooner if I'd known. I really would have. I'm sorry."

He finally raised his eyes, and tried not to sound too acid. "I thought you were this all-fired powerful node. How could you not have known?"

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

"I thought so. Maybe you should leave now."

"Legroeder. Look, I know you're mad at me, and I don't blame you. I should have been there to look out for you. But YZ/I blindsided me; he kept me from seeing what was happening until after you'd been worked over."

He remained silent.

"Will you please believe me?" When he didn't answer, she pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of him. She grasped both of his hands in hers. The sudden electric connection took his breath away. He felt her gaze, and her presence...

And then, as suddenly, the connection ebbed away. Tracy-Ace drew back, her augments winking. "What are you doing? Are you blocking me?" she whispered. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Legroeder stared down at her hand grasping his. He felt no sensation except the physical pressure, and that seemed a million miles away. He searched inward. The implants had been there for an instant, allowing the connection; but now they were gone. Without the implants there could be no link with Tracy-Ace. And he had a distinct feeling—perhaps they had left him a subtle message—that they had shut themselves down for the duration. Meaning, until they were in a place of safety. A Narseil place of safety. Oh, Jesus.

Tracy-Ace was squeezing his hand harder, as if she could force the connection. "What's wrong, Legroeder? What's wrong with your implants?"

He shook his head. "They've closed down. It's not me. I don't know why."

Tracy-Ace rocked back in consternation, still holding his hand. "Are they damaged?"

"I don't think so. No."

She looked at him for a long moment, disheartened. Then she drew a breath. "Legroeder—can I tell you this? I missed you. I'm very glad to have you back. And not just for Impris."

He couldn't react; his thoughts were too tangled.

Tracy-Ace pursed her lips together; finally she nodded and drew herself erect. "As soon as you're ready, we're going to have a very interesting talk with YZ/I. We'll be joining a few people there."

"A few people?" "You know them."

* * *

"Legroeder, I'm so glad to see you're... unharmed! Come in," YZ/I said, breathing sincerity from every pore. Before Legroeder could reply, YZ/I extended a hand past him. "And Commander Fre'geel—thank you for coming! And Riggers." Legroeder turned to see that Fre'geel, the Narseil riggers, and Deutsch had come in right behind him. "And... Tracy-Ace/Alfa! How good of you to join our meeting." YZ/I's gaze at Tracy-Ace suggested he was less than happy to see her.

"I wouldn't miss a chance to help out with the debriefing," Tracy-Ace said coldly. She turned to greet the others. Then she gave a brief nod to the man Legroeder just now noticed standing to one side and little behind YZ/I's chair. Lanyard/GC. What was he doing here?

"And," Tracy-Ace continued, "I thought perhaps I should be here to help make sure nothing else went wrong." She stared hard at YZ/I.

Legroeder glanced at his fellow riggers, wishing he could convey with his eyes what had happened.

YZ/I sighed heavily. "Rigger Legroeder, please allow me to apologize. I did not intend for you to be treated roughly by my analysts. My instructions were to try to release the information—but to treat you only with courtesy and respect. I regret... that you had such a difficult time of it."

Legroeder considered being diplomatic—then thought, the hell with it. "You lying asshole sonofabitch. What were you trying to do—make sure nobody could get the information from my implants?"

YZ/I raised his hands in the air. "Heavens no. I merely told my people to try to set up an interface with your implants." He shook his head sorrowfully. "I have since learned that they were neither as gentle nor as successful as I'd hoped."

Legroeder glared. "Not as gentle or successful as you'd hoped? Is this the way you always treat people who go out and do the impossible for you?"

YZ/I winced, gesturing apologetically. He seemed to be groping for appropriate words, and failing. YZ/I glanced back at Lanyard, whose face was creased by a dark frown. "Do you folks all know my associate?" he barked suddenly, gesturing at Lanyard. "This is Group Coordinator Lanyard—a member of Outpost Ivan's Ruling Cabinet. He's here to observe, and to learn what he can do to help out." YZ/I's expression became unreadable for a moment, as Lanyard nodded stiffly to the assembled group.

Fre'geel spoke up, not letting YZ/I change the subject. "I take it you tried, and failed, to force information from Legroeder's implants."

YZ/I flickered a shade of pink. "Not force,

Commander. We did try to encourage a sharing with his implants."

"And in so doing, you risked grave harm to him," Fre'geel replied, his voice light, yet hard as steel.

"Not intentionally, I assure you. Legroeder, my people didn't do serious harm to you, did they?"

Legroeder gathered himself for another angry statement, but was interrupted by Fre'geel saying in a dry, flinty voice, "I must say, it would be a great shame if you lost all of this information that has been gathered, at such risk—because you tried to extract it, rather than cooperate with us." The Narseil commander stood with his two hands clasped at his breast. Only a slight twitching of his gill slits, and a widening of his vertical eyes betrayed his anger.

YZ/I waved a hand in agitated reassurance. "That's not at all the case, Commander Fre'geel. Look—your people did an outstanding job in rescuing Impris. Outstanding. I'm deeply grateful, and I intend to cooperate with you in every way we can. But—" YZ/I gestured, as though struggling with an inescapable fact "—here's the ship, right in our docks, available for study by our techs. And here's Legroeder, carrying some very important data in his head. Possibly—I think I heard you saying—a map of this network of quantum flaws. Right?"

Legroeder nodded slowly, silently.

"Except," Fre'geel said dryly, "that it's locked away in Rigger Legroeder's implants."

"Exactly. And you surely can understand our position. Once he leaves here, a lot can happen between his departure and our receipt of the analyzed data."

"I do understand that. But do you understand that his implants were designed by the Narseil security forces?" Fre'geel said pointedly. "You can't get the data, and neither can Legroeder. For that matter, neither can I. Only Narseil Security—or the Narseil Rigging Institute —can extract the information! Any effort on your part not only risks harm to Legroeder—but also jeopardizes the integrity of the data itself. Do you realize that, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan?"

YZ/I's eyes shone abruptly with surprise and fury.

Behind him, there was a sharp intake of breath. Lanyard's eyes were narrowed, and his lips appeared to be moving subvocally. YZ/I snapped a look back at him; his gaze darkened further.

"Double cross..." Lanyard whispered.

YZ/I face flickered several shades of crimson and orange. "Let's not make hasty judgments," he muttered to Lanyard. To Legroeder and the others, he said sternly, "Have you known this all along?"

Legroeder was dumbstruck. He should have known it, or guessed it. How could he have been so naive? But none of the Narseil had ever intimated, and even the implants themselves had been tightlipped. (You bastards, why didn't you tell me?)

There was no answer.

Christ. All that time he'd sat in YZ/I lab, being worked over.

"Only Mission Command knew," Fre'geel said, making a hissing sound that approximated a clearing of the throat. "There was no reason to share that point with my other officers."

"And were you," YZ/I said, almost too softly to hear, "planning to share the rigging data with us once you had extracted it?" His eyes had a deadly sparkle to them now.

"Of course," Fre'geel said calmly.

Of course...

"But I'm sure you understand why we wanted to ensure our own access to the data," Fre'geel continued. His Narseil eyes blinked slowly.

YZ/I slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. "You amphibian bastards! You got that information on MY SHIP, flying MY MISSION!"

The Narseil commander made a side-to-side gesture with his right hand. "Come, Yankee-Zulu/Ivan. We were merely protecting our interests. After all, our riggers were instrumental in effecting the rescue. Do you deny our rights?"

YZ/I's skin rippled. "I do not deny that your riggers were an asset to the mission."

"If I'm not mistaken," Tracy-Ace interjected, "the Narseil riggers were indispensable. In fact, all of the participants were indispensable."

"That is correct," Legroeder said. "The Narseil. The Kyber. The Centrist. All of us."

"Damn it," YZ/I hissed furiously at Tracy-Ace. "You know what's at stake here. What are you trying to do?"

"One thing that's at stake," Legroeder said in a soft drawl, "is our future ability to map the hazards that your fleet will face when it travels to the Well of Stars. And it would seem that that depends on your cooperating with us."

For a moment YZ/I looked as if he had stopped breathing altogether. Finally he whispered, as though speaking to some demon dwelling deep within himself, "I'll be a goddamned sonofabitch..."

* * *

In the discussion that followed, Lanyard/GC hovered close to YZ/I, and it was clear that a sharp conflict was playing itself out beneath the surface between them. YZ/I was asking the Narseil commander, curtly, just what he expected in exchange for sharing the information.

"Not too much," Fre'geel said. "Safe passage for all of my crew. An unconditional end to raiding on our shipping—"

"All of our shipping," Legroeder snapped. "Centrist as well as Narseil."

Fre'geel looked nonplused. "Well, I can only speak for the Narseil Navy—"

"Well, I'm speaking for the Centrist worlds. In case you've forgotten, the data's in my head," Legroeder said coldly.

Fre'geel bobbed his head in acquiescence. He had no reason to object.

"One other thing," Legroeder said. "Impris goes home first, to Faber Eridani. From there, we can request her loan to the Narseil Rigging Institute."

"Now, excuse me, Rigger," Fre'geel began.

"Excuse me, my ass, Fre'geel. You're the best equipped to study her, so Captain Friedman should agree. But if not—were you thinking of replacing one form of piracy with another, and just hijacking her?"

Fre'geel stiffened, puffing air through his gills. "We were intending no such thing. But let me ask this. Do you trust the Faber Eridani authorities?"

Legroeder swallowed hard. Touché. "I guess we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. But in any case, I'm the one you need, more than the ship."

Fre'geel didn't contradict him.

YZ/I gazed at Legroeder for a long time, with what seemed a new degree of respect. He shot a glance at Deutsch, floating in silence. "How much did you know about this?"

"Not a thing," Deutsch said. "I've been learning a lot, listening to this conversation."

"And so have I," Lanyard interrupted icily. "YZ/I, it's starting to sound as if you're giving away the whole store here."

YZ/I turned to Lanyard with an expression of calculated calm. "Not at all, my friend. And if you are thinking to put out false claims on that score, you had better think very carefully indeed."

"I make no false claims," Lanyard said rigidly.

"Let us be clear, then," YZ/I said. "You know my position on strengthening Ivan and the Kyber Republic— through self reliance. Perhaps we've taxed the outworlds enough, eh? My position is that anything we can do to aid the colony fleet, we will. Now, you tell me a better bargain than one that will gain us a map of the quantum flaws that can ensure the safety of our fleet."

Lanyard's mouth grew tight; he was clearly taken aback. Legroeder could only marvel at the way YZ/I worked to turn what a few moments ago was a setback, into a political triumph. Lanyard strained to protest, "But what about the others? Carlotta...?"

"Ah," YZ/I said. "There, you are right. There is Carlotta to be considered." He turned back to Legroeder. "You met our friends from KM/C."

"Yes. We met them. Including a couple of old colleagues of mine," Legroeder replied grimly.

YZ/I nodded. "I did not know that you would actually meet your old shipmates. I am sorry. But you found our response satisfactory?"

Legroeder shrugged. "The escort squadron saved our lives. But it seems you took a big risk, provoking one of your allies."

YZ/I glanced in amusement at Lanyard, who seemed startled to find himself in agreement with Legroeder. "You mean, why didn't we negotiate with them beforehand?"

"Well, yeah."

"They would not have agreed. Sometimes they just can't seem to see what's in their own best interest. They really didn't want to see Impris rescued. Or revealed. You, Legroeder, may be the only person ever to have escaped from one of the KM/C outposts, much less to have taken word of Impris back to the Centrist Worlds."

Legroeder shook his head. "But I wasn't captured by KM/C. I escaped from—"

"DeNoble—a KM/C satellite."

Legroeder blinked. "Oh."

"So, KM/C had great visions of using Impris for the last four years of her term of exclusive use." YZ/I shrugged. "They were going to be annoyed, no matter how we cut it. I probably would have been, too, in her place."

"So now what?"

"So now I persuade Carlotta that she needs this map even more badly than she needed Impris. And you know what?" YZ/I glanced back at Lanyard. "I think she's going to see the wisdom." When his gaze came back to the others, it was full of fire. "Especially if this information of yours is as valuable as you've been claiming. Eh?"

"It is," Legroeder said. He looked inward, in vain, for reassurance on that score. "I'm sure of it," he said.

YZ/I ignored Lanyard's obvious doubt, behind him. His face split into a mirthless grin. The room darkened, and around him and through him, images blazed up of the Kyber colony fleet, making ready for the pilgrimage. YZ/ I's voice reverberated. "Oh, it had better be. Because we'll know where to find you. And, I might add, so will Carlotta."

* * *

"I'm sending Freem'n Deutsch with you, as my personal representative," YZ/I said, three days later. "He will be authorized to carry back the data, as it becomes available. And he will be capable, I think, of conveying my needs."

The half-metal man nodded, his glass eyes glowing momentarily. "I look forward to the opportunity."

Legroeder remembered Deutsch's previous ambition to escape from Ivan altogether. Was this a happy compromise? He tried to imagine how the average citizen of Faber Eridani would react to the half-metal man.

"You will admit Rigger Deutsch into your Narseil Institute?" YZ/I asked Fre'geel, with only a hint of an edge to his voice.

Fre'geel assured him that Deutsch would be welcomed. All three interests—Narseil, Centrist, and Kyber—would be entitled to representation in the study of the data.

Over the last three days, they'd met several times to discuss such matters as future espionage and piracy. The Narseil promised not to attempt to lead ships back to Ivan as long as its location remained secret. In return, YZ/I would end piracy as far as Outpost Ivan was concerned. In fact, the time was coming, he said, when the Free Kyber might be interested in trying to normalize relations with the outer worlds. That time was not yet here, perhaps, but equal participation in the Impris data was a step in the right direction.

Legroeder finally had a chance to bring up the subject of Harriet's grandson. "Remember the matter I asked you to look into? The boy—Bobby Mahoney?"

"What boy?"

Damn. "Have you forgotten? The boy who was captured at the same time I was, on the Ciudad de los Angeles."

YZ/I focused inward for a moment. "Oh yes—six or seven years old, wasn't he?"

"At the time. He'd be about... fourteen now, I guess." Legroeder leaned forward. "This is important, YZ/I. He's the only grandson of someone I owe a lot to. Can you find him? Find out if he's still alive? Get him released, if possible?"

YZ/I raised an eyebrow. "Tracy-Ace?"

Tracy-Ace was already working at the console. "I began a search when you asked before. There was nothing in our system about him." She looked up at Legroeder. "But you were captured by DeNoble. YZ/I?"

The Boss rubbed his chin. "We have some connections on DeNoble. It'll be awkward, what with your having escaped from there and all—but sure, we'll make some discreet inquiries for you. If we can help the boy, we will. Fair enough?"

Legroeder felt the knot in his chest ease. "Fair enough. And thank you."

"Anytime," said YZ/I.

* * *

While Impris was studied by Kyber techs, her passengers and crew were treated as guests of Outpost Ivan. For many of the passengers, it was almost irrelevant where they were; the mere fact of emerging a century and a quarter in their future was clearly disorienting. Quite a number opted to remain on the ship, venturing out only for short exploratory trips into the outpost. Captain Friedman was among those who spent more time aboard the ship than not.

Freem'n Deutsch, during the voyage back, had developed a friendship with the Impris riggers, and also with Pen Lee, the one-time assistant to Inspector Gloris Fandrang. Lee, having been trapped years ago in his vain effort to understand what was happening to Impris and her crew, now seemed trapped in another kind of incomprehensible world, inside his own mind. Deutsch had somehow made an empathic connection where others had failed. If anyone was going to be able to help Pen Lee find his way back out of that interior world, Deutsch was a good candidate, Legroeder thought.

Legroeder himself was growing increasingly anxious, waiting for departure. He had no trouble imagining all the things that might go wrong and interfere with his return to Faber Eridani. Every passing hour seemed an invitation to trouble. Tracy-Ace was extremely busy overseeing much of the activity around Impris, and in her absence Legroeder spent most of his time with the Narseil, or Freem'n Deutsch, or the Impris crew. His H'zzarrelik shipmates now had a certain degree of freedom to move about the outpost. An elaborate story was going around the outpost, a web of lies and truths and near-truths, about how the Narseil had come here under cover to collaborate with the Kyber in going after Impris, and only a terrible misunderstanding had resulted in the battle with Flechette. The story made Legroeder uneasy, but he wasn't about to contradict it.

As for Tracy-Ace, he was at a loss as to what to think. She remained his primary helper and guide; she was still his friend, but he wasn't sure if she was still his lover. His implants remained silent, and without the implant connection, it seemed impossible to know her mind or her desires. They hadn't made love since his return, and he felt awkward and frustrated, and even more disconnected. Half the time Legroeder felt helplessly in love with her, and half the time he feared that he had fallen into a hopeless infatuation. Could he hope to share a life, really, with a pirate? It seemed unlikely.

Over dinner in her quarters, one evening, Tracy-Ace seemed to be reading his thoughts, as she produced a bottle of wine—real wine, apparently—and began to open it. "Legroeder, you're tense. You've been tense."

"Well—"

She popped the seal and squinted at him. "Let me guess. You think there's a contradiction between the person you thought I was, and the person you're afraid I am. Is that it?"

Legroeder didn't answer. He took the wine bottle from her and studied it instead. The label was in an unfamiliar language. Where'd they get real wine here on Fortress Ivan? Did they have their own vineyards? It seemed unlikely. He handed it back and sat beside her on the edge of the bunk.

"Well, you're right," she said, pouring a glass and holding it up to the light. The wine had a robust claret color. Heaven knew what it was going to taste like, if it was home grown. She handed it to him.

Nervously, he took a sip, and at once felt depressed. It was much too good to be locally made. He was drinking the booty of piracy.

"YZ/I did all of the things you're thinking of," Tracy-Ace said. "And I'm guilty of complicity."

"Yes?" he whispered, his voice choked off by pain. "I'm no angel," she said pointedly.

"But—" his voice caught "—you didn't order—"

"Fleets out to raid shipping? No. But I worked with him; I've sentenced people to captivity; I can't say I wasn't involved."

Guilty, Legroeder thought silently. He stared at the floor, his heart aching. And what were his needs, his secret agendas? What would he hate to admit to her?

For a moment, he wished desperately for the implant connection, so that he could get it all over with in one big exchange of confessions. A moment later, he was deeply, fervently grateful for the lack. Bad enough this way, he thought.

"YZ/I hates to admit it, Legroeder—but he's tired of living this way. And I'm more than tired of it. Legroeder? I want the raiding to stop! YZ/I does, too—it's just that his reasons are more pragmatic." She waved her wine glass. "He'd say something like, 'It makes us lazy—we'd be stronger if we made do for ourselves.' " She sniffed, and he couldn't quite tell what emotion she was feeling.

"Do you believe that?" he asked.

"Sure, I believe it. But I also just want out of it. I'm sick of it." She pressed her lips together, then said more softly, "It's wrong and I'm sick of it. Never mind the fancy reasons." She gazed at him, and he suddenly realized that her implants were dark and her eyes were welling with tears. For a moment, she sat crying silently, her wine glass quivering in her hand. Wiping an eye on her sleeve, she whispered, "Before you came, I didn't like it—but I wasn't sure why. Then I caught a glimpse of how you see it, what you went through."

Legroeder frowned. "But I didn't show... did I show that to you?"

"Yes, you did. I don't think you meant to. But I'm glad you did, because it showed me what was wrong." She seemed about to say more, then shook her head and looked away with a sigh.

Legroeder's heart ached. He took the glass from Tracy-Ace's hand and set it, with his own, on the end table. He gently enfolded her in his arms. She sat stiffly, and for the first time in a while he remembered that she was taller than he was. Finally she softened and sank against him, putting her head on his shoulder, shaking as she let her feelings tumble out with her tears. After a while, she lay down with her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, saying nothing.

Not long after, he realized she was asleep. He gently stretched her out on the bed and pulled a cover over her. He sat watching her for the better part of an hour, thinking about what she had told him. Thinking about his own actions.

He didn't know what he thought. That he had succeeded in his mission and become a hero? That he had sold out to pirates—and was now paving the way for them to colonize the stars? That he had fallen for a woman whose existence was so utterly alien that he was an idiot even to dream of a common ground between them? That he didn't care, because he loved her anyway?

He lay awake for a long time; he lay in the near darkness beside Tracy-Ace, wishing he had his old pearlgazers to use as a focus to make sense of it all. Finally he pretended that he was with Deutsch and his gazing crystals, and he carried on a long dialogue with himself on a lighted stage, imagining his implants as silent spectators. He debated the merits of collaboration with the enemy versus fighting versus fleeing, and in the end, as the curtain closed, he fell asleep, exhausted, having decided nothing.

* * *

He woke just before Tracy-Ace did. As he was attempting to sort out his blurry morning thoughts, Tracy-Ace sat up abruptly and threw off the covers. "Uh —" he said, still trying to bring last night back into focus "—Trace, you okay?"

She turned her head to gaze down at him, as if she didn't know why he was here. Her augments were flickering madly. She seemed to be light-years away. He sat up beside her. "Ace?"

"Hi," she said. The powerlessness and self-doubt were gone from her voice, but he wasn't sure what had taken their place. Her silver-green eyes were alert but distracted. She seemed to focus on him for a moment. "I have to go," she said, jumping out of bed. "Something I've got to have out with YZ/I. Right now." She glanced down, brushing at the clothes she'd slept in. She grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge, took a swallow and handed the bottle to Legroeder, then headed for the door.

"Ace, wait!"

"I'll see you la—" And then the door clicked behind her, cutting off her voice.

Legroeder stared silently after her, turning the bottle slowly in his hands.

* * *

When she hadn't called by lunchtime, Legroeder buzzed her quarters from his own, without success. He put in a general call for her on the intelnet, and got back a brusque message saying that she was in conference, and would he please get his ass to YZ/I's operations center, if he could find it. He presumed the latter was a reference to operations, not his ass, so he headed off to the flicker-tube.

He found YZ/I and Tracy-Ace in the middle of a shouting match. Tracy-Ace was doing most of the shouting; actually, all of the shouting. "You say you want to change things, but you don't have the guts to just up and do it, do you?" she yelled, striding back and forth like a pacing wildcat. YZ/I's face showed only a low, emberlike glimmer. "I hear all this goddamn talk about shaking things up, but what you mean is you want to shake up just as much as you feel comfortable with! You want to be comfortable in your virtue, don't you, YZ/I?"

"Hello, Legroeder," said YZ/I, nodding.

"Don't change the goddamn subject!"

"Legroeder's here," YZ/I said, pointing.

Tracy-Ace turned, startled, her temple implants going like crazy. "Legroeder. Hi."

"Hi."

"We were just—" Tracy-Ace shook an exasperated fist at YZ/I.

"So I gathered. Just out of curiosity, may I ask—" "No," Tracy-Ace snapped.

A flicker of light went up YZ/I's face. "Why not tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Legroeder asked.

YZ/I answered. "That we're inviting some people to leave if they want to, and sending them to Faber Eridani with you. People you might call... prisoners."

"What?" Tracy-Ace screamed.

Legroeder looked back and forth between them in confusion.

"You mean you've been planning to do it all along? You lying, devious sonofabitch! You've been toying with me all this time, claiming you can't do it because it would be admitting guilt!"

YZ/I reached out with a hand that didn't quite touch her arm. "Let's say you made a very convincing argument." She glared at him, temples blazing.

YZ/I shrugged. "I needed you to give me persuasive arguments to use on Lanyard and his crew."

"Fuck Lanyard and his crew!"

YZ/I grinned. "Not for me to do, dear. But I do have to watch my backside. If I'm not careful to justify it, he could make a move against me in the Cabinet. We're not invulnerable, you know."

"You'd annihilate him."

"Maybe. But it would be messy. And it doesn't pay to be overconfident."

Tracy-Ace snarled, "So what justification are you using?"

"Why, just what you said. If we want the Centrist Worlds to play ball with us, we need to make a good-faith gesture. And it'll send a signal to our own people that things are changing." YZ/I cocked his head, eyes alight. "You always say these things better than I do. That's one reason I promoted you." He grinned again. "You know, Carlotta bet me I wouldn't do it. I can't wait to hear her reaction."

Tracy-Ace turned to Legroeder. "I cannot believe this." "Believe it," YZ/I said. "Now, both of you clear out of here and let me do my work, okay?"

As he left with Tracy-Ace, Legroeder said in puzzlement, "I don't get it. Aren't you glad he's doing it?"

"Of course I'm glad. But the sonofabitch was toying with me. I don't know how he gets away with it, honestly." Tracy-Ace paused in her stride and closed her eyes for a count of three, her lips twitching as she subvocalized. Her eyes popped open again. "I'm going to have to call him on that, sooner or later. Anyway—" she drew a breath and pursed her lips in a frown. "I'm glad we're sending some people home, I'm glad we're pressuring KM/C, I'm glad of all except one thing."

"What's that?"

She turned, her eyes dark. "You're leaving tomorrow."

* * *

They spent most of that day together, and most of it in silence. Or if not silence, then in conversation about matters technical and administrative. How to prepare and organize the Impris passengers and crew; how to present the Kyber bargain to the Fabri authorities, and the Narseil authorities.

Dinner was almost as silent; they hardly ate, pushing aside a savory meal ordered specially by YZ/I for them for the occasion. They sat on the edge of Tracy-Ace's bed, looking at the walls, glancing at each other, scarcely touching. Then her hand went out, and his. They clasped tentatively; then hard. He touched her hair, stroked it. They began to kiss.

They made love in a frantic, almost wordless coupling. His implants remained silent; it was just the two of them, undressing each other in awkward haste. There was so much he wanted to say—and he could only say it in whispers and sighs, with his hands on her and their bodies pressing together. Her hands were all over him, drawing out his pent-up fears and his streaming, billowing desires all at the same time; and woven through it were her desires, not through the implants but through sound and scent and touch and murmured half-words.

She moaned as he touched her; she didn't want him to leave, now or tomorrow or the next day; he didn't want to leave her at all. Their desire was bubbling over; he was already inside her in a way, but it wasn't enough. He was holding her naked breasts, and her hands were moving on him, and he was breathing so fast he couldn't think.

It was fast and slow, all at the same time. He rose against her, and she pushed back, crying out; and when they came, it was with a cascade of pain and gladness and sorrow. And then they subsided into a tangled heap, whispering and murmuring without saying a word, and yet meaning everything.

* * *

She stood with him as the entire Narseil crew filed past onto Impris. They were the last to board, except for Legroeder. "I will come and see you," Tracy-Ace said softly. "When I can."

"How? When?" he murmured. He was having trouble talking, with the lump in his throat.

She looked away. "I can't say, exactly. When I can." He nodded, but it was hard to believe. Node Alfa of Fortress Ivan, visiting Faber Eridani?

She grabbed his arm suddenly. "Legroeder! I almost forgot! Rings!"

"What?"

"That boy—Bobby Mahoney?"

His pulse quickened. "What about him?"

Tracy-Ace had a look of intensity on her face; she was focused inward, on her augments. "A source on DeNoble found a record of the boy being taken from DeNoble to another outpost."

"Yes?"

"The trail ended there, from his point of view. But he thought that someone more highly placed might be able to pick it up."

Legroeder frowned. "Which leaves us where? Do you have someone more highly placed?"

"Well—KM/C is pretty highly placed."

Legroeder opened his mouth, closed it. "I thought you guys were practically mortal enemies!"

"Well... you'd be surprised how much we can compartmentalize our agreements and disagreements. There's a certain... I guess you could call it a code of—" She hesitated.

"What? Honor among thieves?"

Tracy-Ace reddened. "Basically, yes. I mean, a ship here and a ship there... it's almost like chips in a board game. That may sound cruel—"

"It is cruel."

"Yes, it is. But it's their way. You heard YZ/I talking about a bet he had with KM/C? Well, I've been leaning on him to include finding that boy and giving him his freedom, as part of the payoff when we win."

Legroeder was astounded. "Do you really think there's hope?"

"There's always hope."

"Harriet will be very happy to hear that," Legroeder said softly, almost to himself. Cocking his head, he asked, "Do you mind if I ask—what exactly is this bet?"

She shrugged, a little smile on her face. "You'll find out soon, I imagine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see. Promise."

"Rigger Legroeder," called one of the ship's officers from the hatch. "The captain is ready for departure." "They need you." Tracy-Ace swallowed, gazing at him. "I hate this," he said hoarsely.

"I do, too," Tracy-Ace whispered. She leaned into him and kissed him earnestly. "I love you, I think. Good-bye."

Legroeder still felt the pressure of her lips as he turned and boarded Impris.