For Texas and Zed

youngish doctor, but old enough to be her father. He guessed her age at eighteen.

"He's too old for you," he said, next time she rolled him onto his stomach. She slapped his bare hip, drove the needle ouchingly deep into his flesh, and then wiped the sting with a cool, damp something. "Who?" "That man. The doctor." "That's none of your business." But as she left the room, she turned, gave him a pixie grin. "He's my father." And, another day, the rain clouds rolling down from the big northern emptiness, gusty winds making

themselves heard inside the room, fat drops running down the glass. "I'm a San Ann girl. Grew up in the shadow of the hospital."

"And you wanted to become a doctor?" "Not a doctor. Yeeech. Cutting into people." "You shouldn't have any qualms about cutting people the way you drive that needle into me." "For that, smart ass, I'm going to put laxative in your afternoon milk." And she did. "Damn, Riddent," he complained. "Well, it was doctor's orders." "And you just doubled the dosage." She grinned. "No. You do me an injustice." "Well, I'm sorry." "I tripled it," she said, fluffing his pillow and smiling so sweetly that he forgave her immediately, even as

his stomach cramped again and he went white, sweat popping out on his brow as he tried to wait until

she was gone. Recovered, emptied, he watched her, next morning, come through the doorway with his breakfast, a big,

sweet-limbed Texas girl with a mouth which opened wide when she smiled. Her hair was pulled into a

neat mass at the back of her head. Her ears were delicately formed. "Something wrong?" she asked, as she saw him following her every move avidly. "No." "You're still angry about the laxative." "Not angry, but you're going to have to make retribution." "It was a dirty trick, wasn't it?" she asked, with a girlish giggle. "Filthy." "Horrid." "Terrible." "What can I do, sir, to make it up to you?" she asked, not very seriously. "Marry me," she heard him say.

"Not a chance."

"You owe me that much," he said. "Come back in five years." "You'll be old and out of shape, past your prime." "Tough," she said. "If you don't marry me I'll tell your father you poisoned me. A good nurse doesn't poison her patients." "It's hospital fever. All patients fall in love with their nurses. You're getting out tomorrow. You'll go ;;way

and find another girl and," she was hamming it up, making her voice tragic, "you'll forget all about me."

"You won't marry me?"

"Not today."

"Why not?"

"You've got too many holes in your hide from needles and your insides will all run out, leaving only an

almost empty husk. I don't want to marry a husk, co you?"

"If you won't marry me, go swimming with me."

"OK."

"Tomorrow?"

"Sorry."

"When?"

"I'm off Saturday."

"That's five days away," Lex said. "I can't stand it."

"Tough."

"I'll have a relapse and stay here until Saturday."

"You do and I'll give you twelve shots a day."

"I'll come back Saturday."

She gave him her comnum. He hadn't touched her, except when she helped him get back into bed the day he fell with his pajamas down around his knees. He reached out and put one finger on the back of her hand. It was delicately veined, warm. She looked down at his finger making a little white indentation in her brown skin.

"I shouldn't go with you," she said.

"Why?"

"You're a man of experience."

"You're—"

"No," she said, "I was at the port when you came back, with her."

"Oh," Lex said.

"But since I won't marry you, I don't care. Just don't think—"

"I wouldn't dare," Lex said, grinning. "Saturday?"

"Against my better judgment," she said, leaving him.

When he was cleared from hospital he looked for her, but she was assisting her father in delivering a new Texican up on the third floor.

Chapter Eight

The new uniform of the Texas fleet added inches to his height. Janos Kates of Dallas City designed it. It was a man's outfit, made of a tight-fitting but stretchy material, a masculine light tan in color, colored by unit insignia and rank badges. The meacrhide boots were heeled and soft to the touch and made authoritarian clicks on walking. You saw it everywhere. You saw it on the streets and in the training sessions and at dinner—Murichon was a General. Not that Texas was suddenly a militaristic society, just that when a Texican was faced with a job he attacked it with a single-mindedness designed to see the job through.

Lex was a Captain, and as such, ranked high enough to command a ship, although he was steadfastly refused a ship. He was too valuable at headquarters. He was in constant demand for conferences on Empire methods and technology. He protested, and asked repeatedly to be assigned to the same battle group in which Hilly Bob had a ship and where Arden Wal, his thought monitor at last removed, wore the Texican uniform with his proud flair and sported the insignia of a full General. In that same battle group Captains Form and Jakkes served, Jakkes having spent some few weeks on his new ranch only to report in as the reports of the spy ships told of massive buildups of Empire force in the periphery. Form, knowing nothing but the service life, was senior in rank to Jakkes and was in charge of battle group maintenance, having adapted to Texican methods with a pleasing rapidity.

And all the time the battle group was doing its turn on patrol and training Lex was talking to gray-haired politicians and generals in headquarters with scarcely enough time to continue his courtship of Riddent, much less take time off for an airors ride.

Out in the galaxy, the Empire was swarming like angry biters driven from their mud shells. At some risk, a Texican scout, equipped with the new bunk power, the latest advance from the Blink Space Works, observed an encirclement of a dead planet and reported the efficiency of the Empire fleet in urgent blink-stats, adding that the culmination of the exercise was planet-blasting, total destruction.

President Belle Resall was worried. She'd lifted breeding restrictions temporarily, messing up the new administration's generation plan to a point of total despair, but she and all her advisers felt that Texas would not be so lucky in the next battle. There would be casualties. The casualties would be male, of course, since males fight wars. So, every Texican woman of breeding age was trying for a boy and if the first sperm wasn't the proper sort the fertilization was negated and Texican women tried again, and again until a male union of sperm and egg was achieved and there was, in the minds of the moralists, something musky in the atmosphere.

Belle, being a logical woman, worried, first, that Texicans would die and, second, that they wouldn't die and she'd be the President who completely unbalanced the sexes on Texas, leaving the planet with a surplus of males which not even places like Miss Toni's in Dallas City could handle.

And she worried, but not as much, knowing Texicans and having faith in Texas men, about a planet being killed. That was a possibility. All of Texas might end up a cinder orbiting old Zed, but that was only a farfetched possibility and her main worries were the deaths of young Texicans and the host of younger Texicans who would, in a few months, start screaming and breathing the air of the planet.

Now and then she'd leave her desk and walk the streets, a handsome, matronly woman in sort of old-fashioned meacrhide skirts, taking the grins and the salutes, for they were her due. And her heart would fill with pride as she saw the tall Texicans in the new uniforms which she'd commissioned from Janos Kates and then she'd go back to her desk refreshed and call in General Murichon Burns and a few other old heads and ask, "Do we have to risk it? Isn't there another way? Can't we negotiate?"

They'd tried that. "We don't want war," they'd blinkstatted. "We do not ask for war."

And in return they got cold silence, the stars themselves answering with their eternal radiations, but no word from Empire.

On a night when the two moons were full, a rare event, Lex rode double onZelda with two soft and warm arms around his waist and landed at his favorite deserted beach to roast candies over an open fire and drink good Rio and look into the firelit beauty of Riddent's face. She was in swim wear and it was almost too much for him. It was almost too much for both of them. There was a musk in the air. There were two moons. They were young and he stopped himself and tore away and wept with his sadness at having to stop. She, recovering, said in a small voice, "Thank you, Lex."

He had seen and felt the warmth of her, the top of her. "I'm not making excuses," he said. "But I would not have done that—"

"I know. Things are different. The war—"

"No excuse," he said. "Riddent—"

"Yes?"

"Just Riddent. It has a good sound."

She moved to lean against him as they sat in the sand. They heard the rote of the waves, the far-reaching combers, the whistle of a predatory nighter. There was a sense of peace there on their deserted beach, until a squadron on training bunked low into atmosphere, chasing dummy missiles. The streak of fire was death, a missile past the last line of defense. They had seconds to live and they watched as the streak came in like a runaway meteor and two fast destroyers chased futilely and the missile splashed out there, just this side of the horizon.

A shiver went through her and he put his arms around her.

"It was only practice," he said. "They set up impossible situations, making it as bad as bad, as difficult as possible. We'll catch the real ones."

Her skin felt cool. She did not stop shivering.

Above them, the two destroyers climbed and blinked out of existence, to go back to the squadron for a reaming out for having missed.

"I wish you hadn't stopped."

"You don't mean that," he said.

"Yes, I do. I don't want to die not knowing—"

"Riddent, Riddent."

"I will I know it. I feel it. I know that you'll be killed and I'll be killed and Texas will be killed—"

"Now you stop it."

But she was weeping. He held her close and felt utterly helpless and then, with his eyes milky with tears, he kissed her wet cheek and turned her lips up to him and after that there was an irresistible force which pushed, propelled them and when it was sweetly over she wept again, but not from sadness.

"Wasn't that a clever way to trap you into marriage?" she asked.

His shout, his whoop, jarred her, causing her to pull back, holding her outraged ear. Then he was dancing around her, a nude, mad young man, until she giggled and said, "Damned fool," and rose to join him in his mad dance on the hard-packed sands near the pounding surf until, with another whoop, he picked her up and swung her around in his arms and then, panting, held her at arm's length. "You mean it?"

"You know I do, silly."

He bounced sonic booms on the way home and sang of his joy in a loud, untuned voice and then woke up Murichon, who had slept six hours of the past twenty-four, to shout, "She said yes, Dad, she said yes."

They spent three nights in a cozy cottage on the northern ice. There, there was no war, no threat. There were only endless hours of togetherness and happy, giddy experimentation and a growing wonderm Lex that he should have been fortunate enough to court and win Riddent. He would awaken in the middle of the night and feel her body warmth next to him, her amazing softness, and he couldn't believe that she was his, that he had his own wife in his own bed and that his feelings were not unwelcome and that, his hand doing things, she responded and woke and said, "Glutton," and then added her gluttony to his for a sleepless hour before, moist and sweetly warm, she slept atop him.

Naturally, now that he had a reason for wanting to stay at headquarters, he was transferred. Saying goodbye was the hardest thing he'd ever done. It made his first departure from Texas, into Empire servitude, seem distant and not at all serious. She was weeping when he boarded the shuttle to join Arden Wal's battle group and he remembered the things she'd said there on the beach when the practice missile got away and went splashing down into the sea. On the way out he decided, for sure, that he didn't want to die and, above all, he didn't want her to die. Then he started to think of ways he could assure prevention of either.

"You're crazy," Billy Bob, Captain, said when Lex told him that he wasn't about to die and that he wasn't about to take on the Empire fleet face to face outnumbered and outgunned. It was the duel with the Cassie all over again, Texas waiting to fight the Empire with the Empire's rules.

"He's crazy," Billy Bob told General Wal, when Lex demanded and got an appointment, with Captains Billy Bob, Jakkes and Form in attendance. "But I like the idea."

"It is crazy," Wal told them, after he'd heard the proposal.

"It just might work," Blant Jakkes said.

"The crazy bastard kept us alive when that Cassie had us cold," Form said. "Let's give it a try, General."

"We'll have to file for permission," Wal said. "There are regulations—"

"If you always followed regulations, sir, you'd be dead now," Lex said. "Executed by your own people. At least we don't have the death penalty on Texas."

"I could have been in charge of a sector," Wal said, rolling his eyes and grinning, "but I had to meet a crazy Texican."

The main force of the Empire fleet was grouping near an isolated red giant inside the periphery. Outlying zones were thickly patrolled by Vandys. A blink-stat message couldn't be smuggled through the dense lines, much less a vessel. But, to the rear, there was an entire Empire group which acted as security against a sneak attack by a suicide force of Texicans. At least that was Empire thinking. Lex had done his own thinking and he had convinced a cadre of fellow officers, up to and including Arden Wal, that his thinking was good. Wal, knowing the terrible force represented by the gathering Empire battle fleet, was fearful for Texas. And he found, in those first few months on the out-planet, that Texas was all that Lex had described, that his new freedom was more precious to him than he could ever have imagined. An alien, former officer in the force of the enemy, he had proved himself in the first battle of Texas and had been accepted as one of Texas' own. Nothing in his life had ever given him as much pride as the insignia of General in the fleet of the Planet Texas, and he was prepared to take some risk to preserve his new liberty, his pride, his peace of mind. Thus, he was a willing accomplice in a wild plan dreamed up by a young Texican just past his legal majority.

At first, the plan seemed to be designed to allow young Texicans a holiday from the fleet. A growing group of men began to take liberty from the battle group commanded by Wal, assemble on the empty sands of the big sandy country and do what young Texicans had been doing for generations, ride airorses. This in itself did nothing to arouse the suspicion of the high brass, who were too involved in the speculation regarding just when the Empire would choose to strike to notice that the airorses riding on the desert weren't of the usual sort. Those who took note of the weekly gatherings of the young in the desert grinned, remembering when they, too, were young and life seemed to be lent a rosy color merely by the act of mounting an airors. Nor did the presence of repair vans from the Blink Space Works arouse any undue interest. Kids were always tinkering with their mechanical steeds and now that they were all in the services, drawing a man's pay in good Texas credits, they had the money to waste on new doodads for their airorses.

Lex and his co-conspirators took some pains to hide the extensive alteration sheds which were built in the shadows of the dunes and camouflaged with desert growth.

They assembled in groups of hundreds at a time, one hundred on one day, a hundred on the next, as the program accelerated and then there was some grumpy grumbling from the brass, because it seemed that certain battle group commanders were too lenient in allowing their men planet leave. There were ships of the line on duty with a skeleton crew. Only the continued inactivity of the Empire fleet saved some high officers from be called on the carpet.

When two thousand young Texicans left their posts on the fleet ships at the same time, grouped in the desert and began to perform a ballet of precision flying, Murichon Burns was called into President Resall's office to explain why so many fleeters were off duty at once. By then it was too late. Murichon took an official arc into the sands to find deserted sheds, traces of activity which demanded some explanation, and several airorses with alterations which sent a cold chill of fear through his heart before his anger rose up and sent him hurtling toward the station of Arden Wal's battle group in a new destroyer to find that the ships were, true, on station, but that on each ship there were just enough men to keep the machinery running.

Two thousand of Texas' finest, ranging in age from fifteen to the early twenties, were in space. And they were in space on airorses. When the news broke, the planet held its breath.

In council, the old men of Texas looked to Murichon, for it had become known, after a hasty investigation, that his son was the ringleader.

"It is well known that the range of an airors is limited by its life support system," said Belle Resall, to open the discussion. "What do they hope to accomplish by killing themselves?"

That was the way Murichon had felt when he first realized that Lex and his alien friends were leading a strike force of airorses into deep space, but then he'd prowled the deserted sheds in the desert and found the converted airorses. He had one wheeled into the council room.

The vehicle was recognizable as a standard Blink-built airors but certain things had been done. The dome had been enlarged and armored to withstand the most deadly space radiations. The air regeneration unit was beefed up. Murichon opened the dome and pointed out features, space to store a considerable ration of dehydrated food, large tanks for water.

"As you can see," Murichon said, "the boys have not been idly playing tag out there in the sands. As this model indicates, they've successfully extended the range of an airors. We estimate that by living on short rations they can take one of the altered models all the way to mother Earth, if that's what they have in mind."

"And weapons?" asked a grizzled Ranger official.

"None," Murichon said.

"None?" asked Belle Resall. "Then why?"

"Unless you consider this pod, on the left underside, a weapon," Murichon said. "We've tried to figure out why they installed it and the best we can guess is that it was built to carry an explosive charge in the range of fifty pounds of expand." He looked at Belle, who was asking a question with her eyebrows.

"Expand is a charge used by miners," he explained. "Fifty pounds of it would take out about half of Dallas City. What it would do to, say, an Empire Middle guard cruiser can be imagined."

Murichon detached the pod and held it in both hands. He showed it to the group, wordless.

"All right," Belle said. "They've extended the range of the airors by adding to the life support system. If I understand all I know about power, the blink generator in an airors is equal to that of a small destroyer. That means they can go almost anywhere they want to go in the galaxy. They've added a detachable pod to carry an explosive charge. Does this mean they're going to attack Empire on airorses, head on?"

"I think not," said ex-President Andy Gar, in civilian clothing. "I know that boy. I've had a few talks with his friends, that Empire fleeter Wal, the others. They're not suicidal."

"We have this to consider," said old man Blink, Billy Bob's father, who had narrowly escaped being President. "The alterations were evidently done under the direction of my boy, Billy Bob. He's got a head on him." The old man smiled proudly. He was allowed his moment, for Blinks were and had always been one of the prime raw materials of Texican greatness. "He's been coming down to the plant of late studying the captured Empire gear we're testing. He was especially interested in the range and sensitivity of Empire detection equipment. I think they're planning to do something in regard to that fleet which is building up out there and I think it's based on the sensitivity of the detection instruments. Empire has been fighting a stagnant war for a few hundred years, fighting it by a formula. They're geared to detect the ships of the Cassiopeian fleet. The instruments are good, don't doubt that, but they're calibrated to size. They'll spot a Cassiopeian Vandy at incredible distances, but when the size falls much below Vandy volume—"

"I think I see," Belle said. "Then an airors, even one of these beefed-up models, would be too small to make much of an impression on Empire detection instruments."

"Exactly," Murichon said. "I think they're going to try to sneak in past the scouts and plant charges on Empire ships."

"Damned fools," Belle said quietly, not angry. She felt a tightening in her chest, pure fear for two thousand Texas boys out there in deep space on a fool's errand. And she visualized the national period of mourning when the casualty reports were delivered back by a few survivors.

Actually, the plan was more complicated than the council had guessed.

While the council deliberated and mourned in advance, "Professor Emily Lancing was piloting an arc from San Ann to Dallas City, the homer tuned to the new house built outside the city on Lexington Burns's land. She felt a bit of reluctance about her errand, but since she'd been in on the plan from the first she felt she had a duty to carry out Lex's request. She had thought about having her husband make the trip, but she'd promised and she felt, after thinking it over, that the news would be more endurable coming from a sympathetic woman.

And Riddent Burns was a lot of woman, woman at her finest, big, strong, fat in the belly with life, a new Texican forming in there, causing her trim waist to expand and grow. She was one of those fortunate women to whom pregnancy is a blessing, smoothing any hint of roughness from her skin, adding a color to her face, bringing out that almost supernatural beauty which some women possess when they are building life within their bodies.

It was the nature of their relationship that there were no secrets, so she knew Emily Lancing and knew of the tender scene which had once occurred between Emily and her husband. Being a sensible girl, she recognized love when she felt it being lavished on her, and she knew that Lex loved her above all women and, rather than feeling resentment toward the older woman, she felt a sense of warmness, for Emily had done a nice thing for her husband at a difficult time. Therefore, when she answered the door and faced Emily Lancing, she smiled with genuine pleasure and led the lady into the fine, huge main room and plied her with good things, hiding her curiosity about the unexpected visit. However, her curiosity was not to be strained, for Emily, with a cup of good Earth-type coffee on her knee, looked at her, smiled uncertainly and said, "I came because I have something to tell you."

"About Lex," Riddent said. "I thought so. He's doing something dangerous, isn't he?"

"Yes," Emily said, admiring Riddent's control. "You mustn't be angry with him. He didn't want to worry you until, as he said, it was time to worry. He asked me to tell you after he was gone."

"Where?" Riddent asked, her heart beating a bit burpily, but calm on the exterior.

"Into Empire," Emily said.

"He'll come back," Riddent said, smiling.

"Of course."

"I don't think I want to know any more," Riddent said. "I think I'd rather not know because if I know then I'll worry more, I think. As it is, I will just pretend that he's on some simple spying mission or something—"

"Everything possible has been done to make it a successful mission," Emily said. "There is danger, of course, but if advance planning can eliminate danger, then it has been done. Lex is a brave and fine man, girl."

"Yes," Riddent said. "More coffee?"

"Thank you, no." She rose. "If you feel, later, that you'd like to talk about it, please call."

"Yes," Riddent said. She had known. He had been strangely possessive of her the previous evening, before leaving in the dead of night, holding her, taking her with great passion while being careful of the baby. And there had been all of those trips into the desert. At first she'd been angry, thinking that he was leaving her merely to play games with his comrades, but then, noting his seriousness, she'd come to believe that something special was happening.

"I won't worry," she said, walking toward the door with Emily, "but when can I stop worrying?"

Emily smiled. "Three weeks from this morning."

Three weeks. Three eternal weeks. During the third week the baby kicked for the first time, a strong, male kick which caught her by surprise and made her gasp, then laugh happily. She patted her distended stomach and said, "Easy there, you little beggar." And then she cried, for she wanted, so much, for Lex to be there, to place his big, rough hand on her skin and feel his son beginning those life-preliminary exercises.

Emily Lancing had been working on the micro-electronic techniques revealed by the two instruments which had come to Texas inside the skulls of Lex and Arden Wal. Texican spies had been searching for more indications of a hidden Empire technology and had come up with nothing. The mind monitors were, it seemed, the most closely guarded secret in Empire. After a few weeks the instruments themselves held no more secrets, could be duplicated easily on Texas, had there been a need. Thus, when Lex had come to her some weeks past, the building of a monitor to monitor she monitors was a simple thing and with some little burning of midnight oil a way had been found to make the monitors operative through the simple connection of electrodes to shaved spots outside the skull, rather than inside the bone structure. Thus, when the two-thousand-man fleet of converted airorses left Texas, one man in a hundred wore, or would wear at the proper time, Empire monitors. They were all of the local broadcast type found inside Wall's head, the type which, it was predicted, were to be found inside the heads of all top commanders in the Empire fleet. That was an example of the advance planning about which he'd hinted to Riddent.

As she flew home to San Ann to join her husband, who was standing by watching the progress of the airors fleet by reading the Empire monitors, which, in Addition to the signals detectable by Empire on a local basis, broadcast a beam receivable only on Texas, she felt a moment of doubt. Had she participated in a plan which would result in the death of hundreds of young men? She shook her head. No. She had confidence in them, those young men. There was a strange aura of strength about Lex Burns. Moreover, she believed in their mission. She was one of a pessimistic few, among whom Arden Wal was a standout, who felt that in a face-to-face battle Texas was destined to lose. She believed in the mission. Had she been given the opportunity, she would have been out there with them. Into the periphery.

She could read their position on the larger star charts. Their signal was loud and clear and moving in leaps as they blinked deeper and deeper. Toward far Centaurus, hidden now and then as fields of force blanked the signal, emerging ever deeper into Empire space.

It was decided, in the second week, to explain to worried friends and relatives why two thousand Texicans, mostly young, were missing from their regular stations. The Empire fleet was still running practice missions over in the galaxy, ever building, and the population was bored with reports which said that the situation was still tense, critical, but showed no change. The nation, Belle Resall decided, needed some positive news for a change.

"We can now announce," she said on a planetwide trid broadcast, "that steps are being taken to alleviate the tense situation in which we find ourselves. Numbers of our young men are in secret training to strike a blow to the very heart of our enemy."

The announcement was brief and cryptic. There was a Texican spy on Earth itself. There could, therefore, be Empire spies on Texas, or in near space. But saying that the blow would be struck at the heart of Empire would throw the enemy off guard, had he detected the blink signals of the airors fleet which, at that time, was boring deeper into the galaxy. Saying that the men were in training would make the enemy think that the blow would be long in coming, rather than imminent, as it was.

A planet buzzed with speculation. Hearts swelled with pride as families and friends realized that old so-and-so's unexplained absence meant that he was a part of the strike force.

Meanwhile, a mobilized planet put aside the things of peace and prepared for the ultimate battle. All production capacity was geared for war. Every able-bodied man was in uniform. Women manned the factories. Always a thinly populated, community-conscious world, the planet was drawn into even closer empathy among its people. There was a spirit of shared danger. People smiled and spoke on the streets. Teenage girls manned detection stations. Neighbor helped neighbor. Some luxury items fell into short supply as the resources were spent in the building of more and more ships of the line. But there was a plenty of food as city dwellers turned out en masse to harvest crops. The birthrate began to rise as thousands of baby male Texicans were born, Belle Resall's horde, they were called.

Now and then, as he blinked, cramped, living on wakers, eyes feeling as if they were full of desert sand, Lex thought of one future edition of himself, an unborn member of Belle's horde, his son. And he thought of his wife and of Texas and, in brief periods of sleep, alone in the small dome of hisZelda , his muscles cramped and already being shaped by the long period of non-movement, he dreamed.

He didn't like his dreams. He told himself that they were the result of his physical discomfort, for his dreams had always been pleasant ones.

But now they were anything but pleasant. One recurring nightmare never failed to break through the fatigue and bring him awake, grunting, moaning. He saw a beloved, familiar figure, clothing soiled and torn, a vile red stain covering all» limbs bent unnaturally. He saw blood. And he saw Riddent. Riddent dead. His urge was to turn around, forget the mission, but he found a strength which pushed him on and on.

Chapter Nine

The total mass of two thousand airorses would not equal that of one Empire Middleguard. Spread over a volume of space limited only by the necessity to keep in voice contact the airors fleet became mere motes in nothingness, detectable only by the signals sent ahead by the power of the blink generator. These could have been easily detected by any Empire ship, were, in fact, detected numerous times by the Emperor's patrol ships. However, the signals were being generated, when first detected, deep within Empire space and investigation proved space to be empty.

The very strength of the blink signals led to a result predicted by Arden Wal. At first the power signal of simultaneous blinks by two thousand generators raised alarms. Then, reports filed properly, the Empire, involved as it was in assembling the largest fleet ever to be massed, while keeping a suitable force opposing the traditional enemy, discounted the signals as an unexplained phenomenon in the warp of space and assigned half a dozen scientists to investigate and advance a theory. Without leaving the comfort of the various laboratories in which they worked, the scientists postulated a minute bubble in the fabric of space and time, a moving bubble with random patterns zigzagging from the periphery into more dense portions of the galaxy in the general direction of Centaurus. Since the bubble avoided mass, skirting stars and black holes and planets, it was concluded that it would, in time, wear itself out without doing any damage. Had not a dozen investigations been made? Had not the finest detection instruments found nothingness in the area of the signals? The Emperor's fleet was equipped with the finest in instruments. Instruments don't lie. The space-time bubble theory was officially accepted at fleet headquarters and the attentions of the brass were returned, once more, toward the continuing buildup of force, a force which would, once and for all, establish the Emperor's power and teach those upstart Texicans a lesson.

Meanwhile, two thousand young Texicans and three Empire renegades blinked and rested, cursed the close quarters, tried to keep life in aching, cramped muscles with isometric exercise. They fed on space rations, recycled water and air, rode fifty pounds of expand down the long star lanes, making random jumps into nowhere, but always returning to the line leading them toward Centaurus.

For the rest of his life Lex would remember the thrill of pride he'd felt upon lifting from the sands, two thousand strong, in perfect formation, riding the tiny vehicles with their enlarged domes into the high air and then, on a signal, entering space with one long blink, power sizzling from tiny plants which generated the force which could throw many times the mass of an airors into the finite distance.

Since they knew the fleet positions it was possible to escape detection by Texicans on the way out. Texas was not monitoring the planet itself for unauthorized movements, but was facing galaxy-ward. So the first long blink threw them beyond the main forces of Texas and a second blink, using the double-blink generator, removed them from odd scouts and advance guards in the big emptiness between the isolated star, Zed, and the beginnings of space matter on the rim of the galaxy.

At first, they flew familiar routes, but chose not to enter the Empire through Cassiopeian space. They sat astride, able to relax only partially by leaning backward against the near side of the life dome. Legs, pointing downward, ached. Eyes strained, after the first few near sleepless day periods. And around them was a vastness which was intimidating enough when one had the security of the hull of a spacer around him and which was an awful, aching emptiness to a lone man riding astride a tiny vehicle meant primarily for sport and planetary transportation.

Mere voice chatter was so lovingly slow that conversation was unrestricted among the groupings and that chatter helped pass the time. By the time broadcast talk traveled the distances between the fleet and the nearest Empire planet, even a stray ship beyond the limits of their local detectors, the fleet would have moved on to success or failure. Behind them at each blinkcharge point, the radio waves radiated outward, carrying with them the light, bantering talk of young men trying to pass the long wait with an oft-heard joke, a semi-witty remark or simply boylike rememberings of how it was to ride in the hist herding contest. Voices lived in the form of modulated waves, would live, perhaps, traveling through limitless space, after the flesh and blood vocal cords which had formed the sounds had decayed.

During the trip inward, toward the goal, Lex had ample time to consider such morbid thoughts, to question his decision to take the battle to the Empire. But in dim history an honorary Texican had said, "I leave this rule for others when I'm dead, be sure you're right —then go ahead," and that old rhyme had surfaced from somewhere down in the depths of Lex's school memories and, as he blinked ahead of his group into Empire, he liked the simplicity of it. Be sure you're right. He had to be right. He'd seen the vast extent of the Empire. He'd spent two years in the Empire's service studying their power, their vastness, their arrogant disregard for the right of the individual, and he knew that the Empire would never leave Texas alone unless, in some way, Texas made things so hot, so costly, that the pragmatic policy makers back on the old Earth would decide that the price was too high to pay. And, while Empire would scarcely blink at the loss of a million men, being blessed or cursed with a surplus of people, the loss of two thousand ships of the line would cause no little concern. He did not delude himself into thinking that two thousand ships taken from the Empire's entire fleet would end the war, but it would serve two purposes. Most importantly, it would tell the Emperor's war planners that the action against Texas was not to be taken lightly, that Texas had the capacity to strike as well as defend. If his operation were successful, the Empire would be forced to guard the rear of the front with Texas, and that would scatter he massive fleet building on the periphery across the void of extra-galactic space between the planet and Empire territory. Thus, valuable time would be gained.

There were times as the fleet of tiny vehicles crossed the long parsecs when Lex doubted. He limited his own talk with others to checking navigation with Arden Wal, leading the group on his right flank, and to checks with other group leaders. The isolation didn't particularly bother him. He'd spent his time in the big lonesome spaces of the Bojacks, herding winglings. And he had the thoughts of Riddent and his unborn son to comfort him.

Actually, the trip in was uneventful. There were a few tense moments when Empire warships came to investigate the blink signals, but the incidents merely proved the theory that Empire detectors were set for masses too large to allow detection of widely scattered groupings of airorses. Mostly, the trip was unending tedium and it was with a sigh of relief that the fleet heard General Wal's announcement that the bright dot ahead, gleaming in the blackness after a short blink, was the goal, Centaurus.

With the fleet on alert, Lex and Wal blinked ahead to scout.

There, orbiting a lifeless planet, row on row, tier on tier, bank on bank, dead in space, gleaming in the glow of Centaurus, was the discarded debris of the long Empire war. Ships. The graveyard. Outdated Vandys, middleguards, Rearguards, supply ships, scouts, all used up and thrown away in a display of waste which awed Lex. He'd been amazed when he first read of the Empire's ships' graveyard, and now, seeing it close up, he was saddened. There were ships in the Texican fleet twice the age of the more recent discards there in the darkness of space.

There were no guards. The Empire considered the junk fleet of so little value that no one watched. Nevertheless, guards were posted by the Texicans to avert chance discovery in case still another ship or group of ships was scheduled to be blinked out by space tugs to be abandoned.

Now the careful practices in the desert of home began to pay off. In groups, the airorses began to seek specified hulls, to attach to the pitted metals with magnetic grapples installed in the alteration sheds. The selection was not random, but carefully charted by Arden Wal, who was familiar with the makeup of an Empire battle fleet. Each man had his assignment.

The generators of the airorses were adequate for the job. Lex was grateful for the long tradition which had made the airors the most overpowered vehicle in creation. Souped-up toys became engines of war as the airorses mounted the huge hulks, Vandys, Middle-guards, Rearguards, supply and support vessels, and blinked to assigned points, there to jockey into rehearsed formation, the formation of an Empire battle fleet.

When it was assembled, that dead fleet, manned by single Texicans sitting their airorses atop the dead hulks like biters on the neck of a farl, the formation was perfect. Detectors would have recorded the precise positioning as an Empire fleet, readied for blinking across long distances.

Now the thought monitors were turned on. Orders were given. The power in the airorses blinked and the fleet moved, outward this time, leaping grandly and without attempt at concealment toward the aggregation of force threatening Texas. It would take close visual examination to reveal to an Empireite that dead and gutted ships were moving in battle formation.

Arden Wal's advance time schedule was accurate to three standard hours. Three weeks to the day from lift-off on Texas, the fleet of dead ships emerged into normal space within range of the mass of the fleet in the periphery, choosing the headquarters body, a closely linked grouping of ten thousand ships with a deadly core of Rearguards inside the protecting Middleguards and Vandys.

The approach, of course, had been monitored. Blinkstat contact had been made hours previously. It was another example of the stagnancy which had fallen over the Empire's military that communication codes and procedures had not been altered in the time since Lex and his Empire friends had taken to Texican space in the old T.E.S.Grus . Arden Wal's statement that he was officer in command of a battle group sent out as additional reinforcements was accepted. Empire did not expect attack from the rear. They were facing one thinly populated planet. Their confidence was based on the knowledge that behind them were a million worlds controlled by Empire, millions of ships on duty.

In voice contact, Lex heard Wal ask for position orders, heard the orders given. The Empire fleet was spread over millions of cubic miles of space, and the position assigned to them was not suitable, too far from the main headquarters group which was their target.

Wal was equal to the occasion. "Request repeat of the previous message," he said, signaling for a short blink which put the Texican fleet within optical instrument reach of the Empire force.

"You are far out of position," came the irritated answer. There followed coordinates for a blink, but the Texicans were moving at sub-light speeds, closing the gap.

"You are entering guarded space," the voice of the Empire communication said. "Halt. Reverse your thrust. That is an order."

"We have you on optics and will pass safely," Wal sent.

There was a short pause and then a voice full of authority came onto the communicator, a voice with cold fury. "What do you think this is, Admiral, amateur night at the maneuvers?"

Two thousand ships closed on ten thousand. The dangers of collision were small, but the movement of the Texican fleet was against all Empire regulations.

"Perhaps our optics are malfunctioning," Wal said, in a cowed voice. "Sir, could you glow your ships for a visual check?"

"I want to see you, sir, in my quarters when you're in position," the arrogant voice of command said, but ahead, near, pleasingly near, dots of light began to gleam as the headquarters fleet lit up to avert possible collision.

"This is an order," came the voice. "You will reverse blink at once to a distance of one-tenth unit. Then we will send a guide, since you're incapable of finding your way."

"Targets," Lex said, on the private communicator which linked his two thousand young Texicans. "Lock."

"Yes, sir, at once," Wal said, but the fleet continued to close.

"We are preparing to fire on you," the fleet commander said, his voice cold and full of fury.

"Now," Lex sent, hitting his release button, disengaging smoothly from his Vandy hull, in the advance, hitting his sub-light speed control at the same time, shooting hisZelda out and away and seeing the blinks and glow of power as two thousand vehicles followed, darting toward the Empire fleet even as the Empireites realized, their instruments now reading dead ships and, astoundingly, live ships, unseen, over them, under them, around them, moving in like darting insects.

Lances of fire came out from the ships on the near flank, lighting dark space. Behind Lex, the dead fleet, shieldless, glowed and burned, but he was boring in, dodging, twisting, avoiding the beams skillfully, finding that it was child's play compared to herding a spooked wingling.

Now it was a matter of seconds and seconds were critical, for the Empire was mounting screens, the dim glow of power beginning to show on first one ship and then another.

The flagship was his. At the center, he saw it, huge, a lovely target. He zoomed in and over and threw reverse power at the last instant, darting into the shield as it closed over him, his airors making contact with the hull aft of the main weapons turrets in a blind spot. He engaged the magnetic grapple and said, "Report."

There was a wait of seconds before group leaders began to count down. It was a simple affirmative, agreed upon in the long sessions of training. Each individual reports to his leader, each leader reports to a group leader, ten group leaders say, "Got 'em, Lex; OK, boy; yes indeed, buddy."

There was a frenzy in the fleet as weapons continued to sear and burn the remnants of the dead ships left behind, the Empire discards which had been the Texicans' passport through thickly patrolled Empire space. Then, in a silence, space lit only by the dim glow of the screens of the Empire fleet, Lex opened his communication to an Empire frequency and said, "Overfleet Lord Kal, in the name of Texas, I ask you for surrender."

He waited. He felt a hint of the nausea of excitement. Now would come a test of Empire loyalty.

"I am, sir, Captain Lexington Burns, Republic of Texas. I am in a position to destroy your ship, sir. It and all the ships in your fleet. However, I do not wish to cause wholesale death. Will you speak with me?"

Again he waited. And there was, in his ear, the same voice of command, Overfleet Lord Kal, the Emperor's own choice, a noble from old Earth. "I will speak."

"Read your hull, sir," Lex said. He activated and deactivated the grapple, causingZelda to bump up and down on the huge Rearguard's metal plates. "Do you hear a thumping aft of the main turrets?" He could imagine the reason for the long delay. Ahead of him, weapons swiveled, but he was below the angle of fire. Over him the screen flickered.

"I am sitting on your plates, Lord Kal, with fifty pounds of expand. In case you are not familiar with Texican expand, it has, in fifty pounds, almost one kiloton of explosive power."

He waited.

"I am in a small, mobile vehicle which can penetrate your screen from the inside, as you must know. I can be off and away before detonation. I do not want to destroy you. I offer you terms, terms which are quite lenient. Surrender. Fly your ship to Texican space on my direction and you will be treated as a prisoner of war."

"You, sir," said Lord Kal, "are a madman."

"Must I kill to demonstrate that I am capable of destroying ten thousand of your ships?"

"On the contrary," said Lord Kal, "I must kill you. Granted, you are in contact with my ship, but you are in the center of a million Empire ships. Even if you can destroy a limited number of my command, you cannot escape."

"But you'll be dead," Lex said. "You and all the men in your headquarters fleet. Do you desire that?"

Silence. Then, "I have alerted the fleet, Texican. Within minutes you will be surrounded by a million ships. Now I ask you to surrender."

"Would you, then, like to choose which of your ships, those nearest you, will be the first to die?"

"Lord Kal," Arden Wal's voice came, "I beg of you. Don't force us to kill. I am Arden Wal, former Fleet Captain in the Emperor's service, now in the service of Texas."

"You are a traitor, then." No, a free man," Wal said, "with your thought monitor removed from my brain." Silence. Then Wal, on the Empire frequency, speaking passionately. "To each of you, each officer of

rank in the Empire's fleet, I offer this. I am authorized to tell you that Texas offers you your freedom. From personal knowledge I can tell you that each of you is a slave to the Empire. You think, perhaps, that you have been trusted officers of the Emperor, while, all along, inside your brain is a device which reads your very thoughts, invades the most private of your personal feelings. You have been used. Now your commander is asking that you die for an Empire which values you less than it values one old Vandy. Surrender. Come with us to Texas and discover freedom."

"This is your commander," Lord Kal broadcast. "If any ship moves, the guns of the fleet will be used on her." "General Wal," Lex said, "we have to do it." There was a sadness in his voice.

"Yes," Wal answered. "Lord Kal," Lex sent, "train your instruments on the new Rearguard on your port quarter at an inclination of thirty-five degrees."

He had established, during Wal's oration, that Blant Jakkes was locked onto that particular Rearguard. In a quick conversation on the Texican wavelength, he had prepared Jakkes, and he knew that it would be a severe test of the man. To kill a thousand men was not a simple matter.

"Jak?" he asked. "Ready, Lex." "Well, we have to do it." He saw the blink as Jakkes left the Rearguard, then shielded his eyes, opening them only after the

Rearguard had exploded into a small star of fire.

Two thousand men. He felt his stomach go sour. But all of Texas would meet a similar fate at the hands of the Empire. There was no choice. Darwinism. The survival of the fittest. "LordKal," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Don't force us to do it again." But it was necessary. Five ships died. Then and only then, after desperate attempts to send men onto the

outer plates of his flagship to dislodge the intruder only to have them swept off the hull by the mounted weapon onZelda , did Lord Kal, the Emperor's choice, Overlord of the Empire fleet, surrender.

"I will do as you ask," Lord Kal said in a broken voice. "Flagship-directed blink," Lex said, giving coordinates. "First, however, signal the remaining groups of the fleet that should they follow, all the ships of your groups will be destroyed."

Lord Kal obeyed.

The trip home was mercifully short. Short blinks were necessary until the scattered stars of the galaxy's edge were behind them, and then it was long blinks, the Empire fleet in perfect, tight formation, the airorses still in place on the hulls of two thousand of them, until, in the big emptiness, Lex signaled ahead.

"For Texas and Zed. General Arden Wal's Expeditionary Force reports capture of ten thousand Empire

ships of the line, asks sanctuary for officers and crew and requests escort to landing zones in the desert."

It went smoothly. Ten thousand ships was a lot of ships, but the Texas desert was big enough to absorb ten billion ships. They landed in orderly ranks, crews stepped down to be taken into custody. Tired, bent young men lifted their airorses to the sands and breathed the air of Texas, their hearts laboring after a month of nul-gravity, receiving medical attention, trying to unbend twisted legs and arms, hunched like the apes of old Earth from their thirty days in the seat of an airors. There were, however, no deaths.

Lex, trying to straighten his back, in pain, gasping at the pull of normal gravity, grinned at his father.

"Zed's balls," Murichon growled, "every time you go off the planet you bring home more Empireites.

What are you trying to do, repopulate Texas with aliens?"

"I'm just trying to stay alive, Dad," Lex said, just before he collapsed into the sand.

He woke in the San Ann hospital with Riddent looking down at him through happy tears.

"I'm back," he said.

"Yes."

"You all right?"

"Sure, you?"

"I'm fine. Now."

"He kicked," she said.

"You're kidding."

"Here, you can feel."

He put his hand on her stomach and his son obliged. He felt life under his palm and he grinned. But the

grin faded. He was remembering the five ships which had blossomed into deadly fire out there in space.

Chapter Ten

He was older. On the outside he still looked as if some teenage boy had stolen his older brother's uniform, but inside he was old and sad. He was in a place called the Alamo Bar, a new establishment on the outskirts of Dallas City where servicemen gathered to forget the boredom of patrol after a tour of duty. He wore the insignia of a full colonel. The medal, which he didn't wear, had been pinned onto his blouse by Belle Resall herself. The men with him could have worn the same medal, Jakkes, Form, Arden Wal, Billy Bob Blink.

They had been screening volunteers from the captured Empire forces. Texas had ten thousand new ships, but it needed trained men to man them. Even now the hospital at San Ann was working overtime to remove the thought monitors from the skulls of the top officers, many of whom had expressed an interest in joining the Texican fleet. It was an old custom for lower grades to defect to the other side upon capture, so there were some seven thousand enlisted men undergoing indoctrination and training now for the purpose of joining the Texicans. It had been decided to give the ex-Cassies among the Empire fleet almost immediate status in the Texican forces, for in a fight against Empire, the Cassies would, it was felt, be loyal to anyone lighting their traditional enemy.

The planet was, more than ever, on a wartime footing, for the capture of a battle group and a top Overlord of the Empire fleet had sent vibrations throughout Empire, all the way to the old man who sat his throne on the planet called Earth. Spies reported renewed activity among the gathering attack fleet, rigid security measures throughout the Empire. There would be no more sneak attacks, for once aroused, the Empire was a fearsome military machine. Arden Wal estimated, for the high Texas brass, that it would take a mere three months for the empire ship works to replace the ten thousand ships lost to Texas.

Billy Bob was also advanced in rank after the airors raid and was in charge of rearming the captured Empire ships. Already more than half of the new ships had been outfitted with Darlenes and were on the line, ready to fight the last battle for Texas.

The mood of the planet was good. Had they not emerged victorious from two major battles without the loss of a single man? The problem, in fact, was not in preparing the Texican people for war but in impressing upon them that victory was not always going be so easy. Around the planet underground shelters were being excavated, with women and young people making up the labor force, since all able-bodied men were on fleet duty or building ships. The work went on in an almost festive atmosphere of confidence. Not once but a thousand times the government's decision to build shelters was questioned. The opinion of the general public was that it was a waste of effort and money. But there were those who knew the true gravity of the situation, and the five men sitting around a table in he Alamo were among them. Arden Wal knew that the next attack would be in force, upward of a million ships of battle.

"There will be no honor in this one," Blant Jakkes said. "That's the tone of the reports we get from the spies. Empire says that we fight outside the military code, citing the destruction of five defenseless ships in the raid into the periphery."

"We'll only be outnumbered five to one," Billy Bob said. "And we're mounting up to ten Darlenes on the big Rearguards. We can cut off a hundred projectiles in five minutes."

Ex-Empire Tech-Chief Form, now Major, drained his glass. "And five million men will die in five minutes."

Lex looked at him, knowing his feelings. He still suffered nightmares remembering the flowering of the Empire ships as fifty pounds of expand went off against a hull. "We've tried, Form, we've offered terms. All we want is to be left alone."

"Empire's attitude is if you can't control it, kill it," Arden Wal said.

"I suppose that's the basic issue," Billy Bob said. "Empire has built a central government which is all things to all people. Here on Texas we think that government should defend the planet, build public utilities and regulate the numbers of the population for the good of all. When it comes right down to it, that doesn't seem like a big difference, but I guess it is."

"I'd never sit down to drink with a General in the Empire," Jakkes said.

"Is that so great an honor?" Wal asked, smiling. "I feel that I am the one who is honored by the openness of the Texican society. I never had friends before."

There was an embarrassed silence. It was Form who broke it. "When I pulled the plug out there and lifted off to see. that Rearguard ship go up I didn't even feel anything," he said. "And that's funny, because my logic tells me, told me then, that inside that cold hull there were thousands of men. Men like me. Poor jokers, some of them impressed into service, who would leap at a chance to live like we live here on Texas. But I didn't feel anything for them."

"You couldn't see them," Wal said. "You were killing a machine of war, not men."

"Yes, that's what makes war so easy, I guess," Lex said. "If you had to look into the eyes of everyone you were going to kill I wonder if it would be so easy."

"We didn't ask for the war," Jakkes said. Lex grinned to hear him use the pronoun "we" so easily. In many ways Jakkes was more Texican than most Texicans.

"And we're not threatening the home planet," Billy. Bob said. "We have no planetkillers in all of our arsenal. We don't plan to build any. But out there in that fleet there are a quarter of a million ships which are armed to make Texas a cinder. I think that justifies what we've done and what we have to do. I'm not saying that the life of a Texican is worth the lives of a million Empireites, I'm just saying that we are only a few and we have few lives to spare. We have to fight to keep what we have. A man takes your life, he's taking everything."

"We'll fight," Lex said. "We'll kill. I don't quite understand why we have to fight, but it's Empire's choice and that leaves us no choice at all, does it?"

"I've got to get back to the plant," Billy Bob said.

Lex had one more and then rodeZelda , stripped of her extra features and returned to her clean lines, to his home, where Riddent waited, the evening meal on the table, her stomach protruding past all laws of anatomy.

"He's been a little devil," she said, smiling as Lex kissed her. "Playing kickball all over the place."

After dinner they watched the news on the trid. Riddent reached for his hand and held it tightly when it was announced that the stream of reinforcements into the gathering Empire fleet had come to a halt. "It is felt," the newsman said, "that attack is imminent."

Lex was in command of a first strike group within the fleet command by Arden Wal. When the fleet was alerted, upon the first outward movement of the Empire forces, he went over emergency procedures once more with Riddent. At the first encounter, she was to take shelter in her assigned underground bunker on the south side of Dallas City. There would be medical attention for her there, and she might, in the excitement, need it, for she was nearing delivery time and her personal doctor had warned Lex that the excitement of the battle would, in all probability, bring on labor.

As he was lifted to his command ship, a powerful Empire Vandy with two Darlene space rifles mounted,

in addition to the standard Empire armament, he was aware of a growing resentment toward those who were taking him from his wife at such a crucial time. He resented, of course, Empire's attempt to take over Texas and make it just another planet in a huge combine of planets, but most of all he hated the Empire war planners for depriving him of being present while his son was being born.

He did not, however, let his anger show. He grouped his strike force on Arden Wal's port flank and ran battle station exercises until his crew was sharp and on the fine edge of their best capabilities. Then came the long period of waiting. Empire was in no hurry. The massive fleet approached with short blinks, scouting the way, line upon line of death edging ever closer.

When the Empire fleet was well into the void between the scattered stars on the galaxy's rim and the Lone Star, Zed, Lex moved. Command ship calculators estimated the probable position of the next advance jump by the Empire vanguard and Lex's strike force was there, materializing out of nothing to rake the ranks of Empire ships with Darlene projectiles, blinking in and blinking out before Empire gunners could train their beam weapons on his ships. Fairly minor alterations had given the captured Empire ships the advantage of the double-blink generator and Empire ships had one advantage over Texican ships, their shields.

Thus it was captured Empire ships which began to strike terror into the Empire fleet before a single Empire ship was in range of Texas.

As Lex, the first to strike, blinked out, men were dying behind him, dying by the hundreds, the thousands, as Darlene projectiles blinked inside the hulls of Empire ships, the shields useless, unable to stop the passage of an object traveling in non-space, and the kill was total.

The vanguard force staggered, regrouped and bored onward. And it was thus for hours as the fleet of the Empire moved on, marching with admirable determination into certain destruction. Ship after ship flamed, burst, became dead particles in space. A thousand, ten thousand, a hundred thousand ships vaporized and still the movement went on, directed by Overlord Guton Artlz from the safely protected Rearguard lingering on the fringe of the galaxy, removed from death. Artlz quoted the Emperor himself when he was informed of the losses. "Let one rebel against the benevolence of the Empire and the disease will become epidemic."

That such a statement represented specious reasoning did riot concern Overlord Artlz. He was the Emperor's own cousin, a man who had been forced by necessity to leave the comforts and pleasures of the court to live in the confines of a spaceship out beyond the limits of civilization. Nor was Artlz overly concerned by the high casualty rate of the approach. He had expected casualties. Not so many, perhaps, but what was a hundred thousand ships? That left him just over nine hundred thousand ships, many of them armed with weapons which could, upon his order, end the battle once and forever with the simple destruction of the whole accursed planet of Texas.

"We must strike," advised one of his Admirals. "They're cutting us to pieces. We must abandon the slow, controlled approach, blink close and engage the main fleet."

"We will carry on as planned," Artlz said coldly, asLex made his second strike, Darlenes rearmed, to burn thirty Empire ships within split segments of a second.

"Like shooting beardies on a pond," Billy Bob Blink reported, after his first strike. He had been fifth in, and when he made his second run, blinking into the center of an Empire grouping, Empire gunners were ready, the weapons trained at a randomly selected area into which Billy Bob's group happened to emerge. The Empire weapons caused three Darlene projectiles to explode prematurely as they left the muzzles of the Texican ships. Texas suffered its first casualties with the loss of three captured Empire Vandys with all members of their, crews.

At a point in space a few astronomical units from Texas, the Empire fleet began its encircling maneuver. While this split the Empire forces into spaced groupings, making the strikes by the double-blinking captured ships less hazardous, it also split the Texican forces facing the main fleet, setting the stage for a face-to-face encounter near the planet. From the Texican flagship went out the orders. Full attack.

Two hundred thousand Texican ships locked on targets, blinked, left havoc in their wake as they blinked out, but not without losses. Empire gunners were not that slow. In the point of time required for aiming and firing Darlene rifles, the Empire ships could bead on the enemy and the unshielded Texican ships burned easily. Belle Resall's horde would, after all, be needed to restore the balance of the sexes on Texas. There would, indeed, be a national day of mourning, if the planet survived.

Now the multiple guns of the captured Rearguard and Middleguards were brought into play. Shielded by the Empire's best screens, the big vessels turned the tide, fighting on the Empire's terms, head to head, visible by optics, sending salvos of Darlene projectiles into the Empire ranks.

The skies of Texas were no longer empty. Those who watched from planetside saw stars born and die in seconds as ships burned.

Not even a million-unit fleet could take such losses and remain a fighting unit. A single Texican Rearguard, able to sit through the barrage of weapons aimed against it for the time required to launch projectiles, could kill a hundred ships in five minutes. One million of anything represents a huge quantity, but when the whole was being reduced at the rate of approximately eight thousand per five-minute period, with the resulting loss of Texican ships on a scale less than one one-hundredth of that total, the facts were made clear even to the Emperor's own cousin, who had moved into range but was still safe out in the depths of space.

With a red and angry face Overlord Guton Artlz gave the order. "Prepare to disengage."

The signal went out too late for a thousand Empire ships. The broken and detached remnants of the greatest strike force of all time began to regroup, unable to count the soaring losses, and, on a signal, blinked away, taking a long hop to the bigness of space.

There, with the strike forces still blinking in and out, caving flaming stars in their wake, another order was sent from the Empire flagship.

"Missiles," Guton Artlz said, his lips compressed in hatred.

They traveled at sub-light speeds and were picked off in space by the Texican fleet, alert to the possibility. They went out from the Empire fleet by the thousands, each potentially deadly, each, if the Empire had chosen planetkillers, capable of ending the battle for all practical purposes. The Texican fleet would be homeless, able only to extract a measure of revenge before running short of supplies. And space was lit by them, by the thousands, to be centered on target finders and then destroyed systematically, by the hundreds, then by the tens as they streaked through space.

On the planet, screens were filled with them and the controllers worked frantically, pointing out positions to the wildly blinking fleet as it chased missiles. Had the Empire fired from close range it would have been hopeless, but from a distance hours were available to seek out the missiles and destroy them.

Meanwhile, regrouped, the shattered Empire fleet limped toward the periphery, safe from Texican pursuit, since all Texican ships were involved in the life-and-death game of tag with the missiles.

A few hundred of the missiles made it past the Texas fleet to home in on the planet, gaining speed with the planet's gravitational pull. Lex accounted for dozens of them as they neared the planet, throwing his ship around space with reckless abandon, lashing out with rays and Darlenes at the points of death which appeared in his finders, listening with half an ear to the locations sent up by the ground controllers. And when the missiles, those very few which had gotten through, began to glow with heat upon entering atmosphere they were met by the reserve guard, Texicans on highly mobile airorses, herding missiles instead of winglings, burning them until, with a sigh, the ground controllers said, "All clear."

The missile which took out Dallas City was a fluke. A near miss out in deep space had killed its power, leaving its velocity and direction. The fleet was engaged in mopping up, finishing off partially destroyed missiles, when the alarm sounded from the Dallas City control center and fire began to form on the nose cone of the missile as it hit atmosphere. A twelve-year-old boy, mounted on his first airors, was in position to strike the missile, but he blew it, punching too much power and overshooting, and screens all over the planet watched the missile fall the last few thousand feet until it was below horizon for all but the screens in the greater Dallas area and then seismographs registered the hit.

The planet did not burn.

They were using population reducers, strategic weapons designed to kill concentrated groupings of humanity and leave the lush agricultural countryside intact. The force was not even dirty. Radiation was no problem. But where once the largest city in Texas had spread its broad avenues and its parks in all directions there was a crater hundreds of feet deep.

The point of impact, it was determined later, ground zero, to use an old term out of the past, was immediately over the underground bunker which had sheltered Lex's wife and unborn child. The entire complex was vaporized. Search teams could find nothing to bury, nothing of several thousand inhabitants of the city.

Chapter Eleven

He could stand on the patio of what had been their home and look at the fringe devastation. The blast had extended outward past his property line, taking the acres given in reward to Blank Jakkes, and almost reaching the main house. There, glass was shattered and there were brown singe marks on the frame of the building itself. But it was not the damage to his property which caused Lex to stand, weeping, looking out toward the raw crater which had been Dallas City.

As in almost every tragedy, the word "if' was the epitome of sadness.

If he had not insisted that she go to the shelter—

If he had insisted on staying with her—

If—if—if—

Had she stayed in her own home she would have been shaken, but alive. Even if she had been in the main room, where glass was shattered everywhere, her worst injuries would have been cuts and bruises.

At times, during the first terrible hours, having returned subdued but victorious, he had told himself that it

wasn't true. He had not seen her body. Therefore, she was not dead. She would show up, appearing miraculously, having decided to disobey his stern orders and weather the attack in the home of a friend well away from Dallas City. Seeing is believing and he couldn't see her dead so she wasn't dead.

Except that she was and he knew it. She would never have endangered their unborn child by failing to seek shelter and somewhere up there, in the warm, formerly friendly atmosphere of Texas, the minute atomic parts of her were floating, traveling the routes of the jet streams, moving with the planet's weather to fall, someday, somewhere, to enrich the soil.

Riddent.

And Murichon and President Belle Resall and old Andy Gar and all the old, gray advisers who had been in the Dallas City command center. And the home-place, Murichon's house and the fields where he'd played as he grew, all a part of the raw hole.

He had told them he wanted to be alone. And then he'd ridden a borrowed airors from fleet headquarters in the desert to see for himself and had come here, to his home, their home, to walk empty rooms and feel her presence, smell her lingering fragrance.

The sun set.

He stood looking out toward the vast crater until Zed was only a glow below the horizon and the first of the seasonal Texas moons was showing over the eastern world. Death was in him, around him, was a glowing crater whose seared outer rim, flattened, barren, was within his view, adding a dim light to the Texas night He himself had risked death. He had delivered death. He had felt the sickness of it as he ordered Jakkes to kill the first of the five Empire ships which had been destroyed in the airors raid on the Empire fleet. He had seen his grandfather lying cold and still in his own bed and that was death, too, but a clean, natural death which obeyed nature's laws and was, somehow, sweet and bearable, although painful.

But Riddent dead? His unborn son dead? There was nothing natural, nothing fair, nothing acceptable about that."

For a moment, he wished them all dead, all the billions of Empireites. His rage sent him pacing, his face flaming, heat waves causing him to sweat inside his uniform. At that moment, had he been given divine power, he would have depeopled half a galaxy, but his rage faded, paled with his memories of his service in the Empire fleet to exclude the rank and file, the masses. The Emperor, then, all his top advisers, the men who directed the attack on one lonely planet far from Empire's sway.

Someone had said it once, about the Empire: "If you can't control it, kill it."

And they were trying to kill Texas as they'd killed Riddent.

They found him at midmorning, sleeping in the house with its shattered windows, sprawled on the bed in full uniform, his boots making dirty spots on the sheets.

"Damn, Lex," Billy Bob said.

He awoke slowly and his arm automatically went out to feel her next to him, then he was fully awake. They could see that he'd been weeping. He didn't care.

Arden Wal, his hat in his hand, put his other hand on Lex's shoulder. "They're reorganizing the

government, Lex." "We," Lex said, his voice cold and hard. "We're reorganizing the government. You are one of us now." He stood, ran a hand through his tousled hair.

Billy Bob, looking at him, wondered what it was that was changed. He seemed different. There was a cold, hard light in his eyes. "They want you there," Billy Bob said. "All right. Where?" "San Ann. The opera hall." "I think I should tell you," Wal said, "that the fleet is putting you up for President."

"Now why did you go and tell him that?" Billy Bob asked plaintively. "He'll not come for sure, now." Lex said nothing. He nodded grimly. His father had been President. Andy Gar had been President. Belle Resall. All of them old, wise, geared to take the demands of office.

"Now don't you say no before you hear us out," Billy Bob said. "I'll listen," Lex said softly. The opera hall was in tan. The majority of those present were in uniform. Lex sat down front listening to

but without hearing a eulogy for dead Texicans. Then the business began. Nominations. Billy Bob advanced his name and a huge cheer went up from the uniformed members of the Republic. There was a recess. There had been no other name mentioned as candidate for President. Lex went into a conference room with Wal, Billy Bob and some older members of the government who had not been in the city when the missile impacted.

"It's yours if you'll take it," Billy Bob said. "The fleet will vote for you to a man." "We need a strong, young man in the office," an old graybeard said. "In peace, when there's nothing to

do with government but keep order and count noses, a wise old head, but we're at war, son. And you've shown your metal." "Lex," Arden Wal said, "as President, you'll be commander in chief of the armed forces." "Yes," Lex said. "The Empire fleet?" "They're throwing up defense lines all along the periphery," Wal said. "They show all signs of siege. We'll

not see any metals from the galaxy." "We can find metals in the cluster," Lex said. "Son," said the old minister, who had been at his post on the opposite side of the planet when the missile

got through to Dallas City, "we've been searching the cluster for a decade and we've found not one planet.

All signs show that she's a non-planet-forming group of stars."

"We can hold them off for a year or two," Wal said, "even a decade or two, but then the metals shortage will begin to show. You can't go on recycling forever. There's always a loss factor. And while we're declining they'll be building."

"We need to hit them now, Lex," Billy Bob said, "while they're down. We want you to take us into the galaxy, finish off that fleet. The Empire has trouble with the Cassies now, so it's not likely that they'll try a direct attack again, and I don't think they'll be able to muster too many reinforcements for the periphery."

"The Cassies?" Lex asked.

"The Empire pulled off a lot of ships from the lines," Wal said. "The Cassies are making hit-and-run attacks. They've even captured a few Empire planets. The Empire is going to be busy in the next few months. We could go in, take on the rest of that fleet and grab a few planets and have enough metal to make Texas strong enough to withstand any attack from either the Empire or the Cassies."

"All right," said Captain Lexington Burns.

"My fellow Texicans," said President Lexington Burns an hour and a half later, "these are difficult times."

"Surrender," said Fleet General Lexington Burns, speaking to a single Empire Vandy acting as an advance patrol just outside the periphery.

"Surrender," said Lex speaking to a fleet guarding a five-planet star.

Behind them the Cassiopeian fleets were making dire and terrible raids into Empire territory. Before them was a force of Texicans with that terrible weapon which blinked death into the very guts of a ship. They surrendered by the ship, by the fleet.

In three months, Texas had extended a protectorate into the periphery to a depth of ten parsecs from the outlying stars. Captured ships were carrying metals back to Texas. On the inhabited planets, Texican governors were talking of true freedom, of regard for the individual, of controlled population, of good and plenty for all.

As the second line of defense was reached, resistance stiffened. There, Texas met Empire commanders who had not been present at the Last Battle of Texas and had to learn for themselves the strength of Texican weapons. Ships blazed and vaporized. A fleet supply planet refused surrender.

"There are only a few thousand men down there," Arden Wal said. "An invasion force on airorses could take it in five days."

"At the loss of how many Texicans?" Lex asked. "I've seen enough Texicans die, General Wal. There will be no more Texican deaths as the result of my orders, not if it can be avoided."

"Lex, they're just soldiers. They're just plain people down there." Billy Bob looked into Lex's cold, hard eyes.

"Send this," Lex said. "Tell them they have one hour to lay down arms and surrender."

"Lex, that's a helluva cost to take out one fleet supply planet," Billy Bob said. "Those people down there are defenseless."

"So was Dallas City," Lex said. At the end of one hour a captured Empire Rearguard moved into position and launched one missile. The missile's powerful engines sent it deep into the heart of the small planet and the detonation ruptured the shell in five places, the vast rents spewing magma. The very atmosphere burned.

The next military planet was shown trid tapes of the incident. The planet surrendered. A beleaguered Empire, with millions of stars and planets under its rule, sent an emissary to meet with President Burns of the Texas Republic as the Texican force cut through the heart of Empire, a deadly

point aimed directly at mother Earth. Behind the fleet lay thousands of subject planets, on which millions of former Empire citizens were finding that the rule of the Texicans offered certain advantages. The emissary met Lex in space, approaching under the guns of the fleet in a swift scout. She had changed little. She wore the official robes of state in purple and gold. The robes hid her body,

allowing only a glimpse of her trim ankles. "It's been a long time, Lexington Burns," said the Lady Gwyn. He had half expected her. It made sense to send her. They would use her to probe his weakness, for she

knew him. He had not bothered to rise. "Please have a seat," he said. He was in the uniform of a Texas

Fleet General, minus insignia. "You have come a long way," Lady Gwyn said, seating herself and allowing the official robe to part, showing one lovely leg.

Lex nodded. "Are you determined, then, to destroy all of the Empire?" she asked, with a half smile. She had intended

the remark to be sarcastic, half joking. It came out flat. There in the midst of the Texican fleet, seeing its power firsthand, she could not bring it off. "That would be a large undertaking, wouldn't it?" Lex answered. "Truly large," she said. "Can even a Texican do it? Ten million warships? Millions of planets? Billions of

people?" "We won't know for a while, will we?" Lex asked. Gwyn used her nicest smile. "You don't have to try, you know. There are other ways. The Emperor—" "—ordered the use of population reducers on Texas," Lex said, dropping his booted feet from the top of

his desk. "Are your hands completely clean of blood?" asked Gwyn.

"My hands show only blood I'm forced to spill."

She had come expecting to see an overgrown boy in a man's neatly pressed uniform, but, looking into

his cold eyes, she was unsure of herself. "The benevolent conqueror?" she asked, hating herself for having been forced into trying to reach him through the cold shell. She regained control. "When it comes to administering what you've taken, do you think you could use a little bit of help?"

"Maybe," Lex said.

"The Emperor has asked me to offer a truce. We would leave the lines as they are now. You would have your planets for your needed metals. We would work together to restore order." "That's big of you," Lex said, a non-smile parting his lips. "It seems that you're willing to give me what

I've already taken." "I am directed," she said, "to ask you to look around, see what's happening in the galaxy. In fighting you, we've opened up our flanks to the Cassiopeians. They are taking planet after planet. When they take a planet it isn't pleasant for the Empire inhabitants. They're put into virtual slavery. Lex, there's a black pall of savagery falling over the entire galaxy. Don't you understand what you're doing? You're destroying the only force which has held it all together. Empire has its faults, but look what Empire has accomplished.

There is no hunger on Empire planets—" "Because you can make plenty of tasteless synthetics," Lex said. "But it is food. Can Texas feed all the planets you've taken?" She shook her head. "It's easy to take a

planet, all you need is force. But afterward? When the people are hungry? When the trade routes which have kept Empire an entity are closed? How many planets are self-sustaining?" "We'll teach them to be self-sustaining," Lex said.

"Will you, then, agree to a personal meeting with the Emperor?" Gwyn asked, as a last resort. "Sure," Lex said, glancing at a star chart on the wall of his cabin. "Tell the old boy I'll be calling on him on Earth in approximately six months."

"In six months, the Cassiopeians will be on Earth," Gwyn said, in desperation. "It's that bad, huh?" Lex asked. "It's that bad," she said. "Tell you what," he said, rising to the height of his six-seven stature, "I want to hear more. You'd better

stay the night." He looked at her, waiting for an argument. "Here," he said. "All right," she said. "If that's what you want." Chapter Twelve As the Texican fleet blinked and waited, moving deeper into the galaxy, Fleet General Billy Bob Blink

transferred over to the flagship carrying a bottle of liberated brandy. He found Lex in his cabin brooding

over star charts. "Hey, boy, time for a break." He brandished the bottle. Lex pushed his eyebrows apart with thumb and

forefinger and managed a grin. He threw his booted feet onto his desk and accepted the glass offered by Billy Bob and let the crisp taste of the brandy linger on his tongue.

They drank in silence for a few minutes and then Billy Bob chuckled. "Hey, you remember that time we

laid one on in Dallas City, that time just before you went off to do your time for the Empire?" Lex nodded. He had scant time for memories these days, but it was pleasant to take his mind off

problems tor a few minutes.

"Drunk, whee, I had to hold onto the grass to stay on the world," Billy Bob said.

"And the look on the faces of those herders when you tackled them," Lex said, entering into the mood.

"They thought you were some crazy kid and they tried not to hurt you."

"Well," Billy Bob said, "I didn't really need your help."

"Oh, no," Lex said.

Billy Bob chuckled again and mused into his glass. "Hell, I miss it, old buddy. I miss all of it, Texas, the

big spaces, riding oldClean Machine down across the desert blowing low and fast."

"Yeah," Lex said.

"Here I am going on twenty-three and I ain't married," Billy Bob said. "And the ratio of women is up at

home, too."

"There'll be time," Lex said.

"When?" His question was not an idle one. Lex recognized that and let his feet fall to the floor with a thud. "When we gonna quit, Lex? Hell, we've made it secure for Texas. We occupy a quarter of the galaxy. We've got our buffer zone through which no one could attack with any degree of surprise. When we gonna call it enough?"

"When the killing has been stopped," Lex said.

"Seems to me we're doing our share," Billy Bob said.

"We didn't start it."

"No, but we can stop it. I talked to your friend when she was here. I know the Emperor offered you a

deal."

"Only to be able to kill Cassies," Lex said.

"Is that our business?"

"B.B., I've been doing me some reading now and then. And I ran into something which might explain to

you the way I feel. I may not remember the exact words, but they were written by a fellow back on the old Earth, long before we went into space. It goes something like this: The death of any man diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind. You get what I mean?"

"I don't wanta sound smart," Billy Bob said, "but it seems to me you're saying you're gonna kill people to keep them from killing themselves."

Lex's face went stiff. "I kill only when there is no other way."

"Sure, you offer them a chance to surrender. What if it were the other way and someone was taking Texas piece by piece, would you surrender?"

"It's different," Lex said.

"We've got the Empire on the ropes," Billy Bob said. "We could fly through to Earth right now. And I'm not sure we're on the right track, buddy. There are ;he Cassies. Now I've been doing me some reading and some talking, too. I think of the two the Empire is just a hair better. What are we gonna do, take nut the Empire and then tackle the Cassies?"

"Nope," Lex said.

"Then what?"

"Take a look," Lex said. "Here." He shoved a star hart across his desk. Billy Bob looked and then he pursed his lips and whistled. On the chart, marked in red, was the line of march extending out from Texas into Empire. Red areas showed areas of Texican control. The dotted line of future movement extended not toward Earth, but outward. There was a circle around the star Cassiopeia.

The fleet blinked into Cassiopeian space just over two years from the time it first left Texas space and the messages began to go out. There were the usual offers of surrender and honorable terms, all, of course, refused. Cassiopeian ships learned the hard way that they were no match for Texican weapons and the dark space flared with their lessons. Nevertheless, the resistance was stiff. Again, Texicans died and the news of their dying brought a delegation from the home planet to meet with President Burns in deep space. Of the five Texicans, two were known to Lex. Retired Admiral Crockett Reds shook his hand and congratulated him on his successes. Emily smiled and her hand was warm in his.

He seated them in his cabin, although it was crowded. He listened. They questioned his wisdom in attacking the Cassiopeian dictatorships while still engaging the Empire.

"You elected me to assure the security of Texas," he said. "Are you now saying that you want me to resign?"

"Of course not," said Reds in his aged, deep voice. "But dammit, boy, we've got security. A free electron can't get through the ring of territory you've established on this side of the galaxy. Now you've done a fine job. I'm told that the people on the occupied planets have started treating us as liberators, rather than as conquerors. But let's look at it this way. You've got a supply line which reaches back toward Texas for one helluva distance. By leaving good Texicans behind on occupied planets to administer them you've reduced your fleet, leaving you with Empireites in key positions. Over half your ship Captains are non-Texican. We think you're extending yourself too far."

"Has there been one defection among the converts?" Lex asked.

"Not that I know of," Reds said, continuing to actas spokesman, "but you're taking on a whole new game now that you're moving into Cassiopeian space. You're suffering losses. As long as you're winning the men are happy. But they've seen ships burned. How long can you keep them willing to risk, and risk, and risk?"

"Long enough," Lex said. Emily remained when the other had gone. "Are you going to lecture me now?" he asked. "You have become a very handsome man," she said disarmingly. "Gonna sweet-talk me back to Texas, huh?" he asked, grinning in spite of himself. "No. Actually, I just want to see you alone, talk with you. How are you, Lex?" "Great." "No, I mean really, inside. Can't you forget?" He turned away without answering. "My Poul was in Dallas City, too," she said. He looked at her. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." "My way of trying to forget was to submerge myself in my work," she said. "The techniques we

discovered by testing the Empire thought monitors led to many new things. Miniaturization in many fields, but, most importantly, they led to a new understanding of the human mind. The mind is a funny thing, Lex. We think we do what we want, but sometimes we're conditioned to think we're doing what we want to do by an oversecretion of some obscure enzyme in the body. Or our thoughts are colored by emotions. Grief has a chemical effect on the brain, and on the entire entity we call mind, soul, ourselves."

"I won't say that I'm not a different man because of—"He paused, then said it. "—because of Riddent's death, but it's Texas I'm thinking of." "Is it?" . "What else is there?" He looked at her challengingly. "Glory?" "Bullshit." "I talked with Billy Bob."

"Changing the subject?" "Not really," she said, smiling. "He says you spend a lot of time alone and that when you're not working you're reading, old things from Earth. Do you know Alexander?"

"Do you know Sargon?" he countered.

"And Frederick and Napoleon and Eisenhower and Hitler and Stalin," she said. "Yes, I remember, you mentioned Hitler to me once." "He killed fifty million people, directly or indirectly," she said. "And Empire has been fighting the Cassies for hundreds of years," Lex said. "I'm going to stop the killing,

not continue it." "Alexander was a young man, too," she said, "and he established what was, perhaps, the first empire." "He sold his captive women and children into slavery," Lex said. "Am I Alexander? When we liberated

the first Cassie planet the people were, at first, suspicious, but when we opened the political prisons and allowed the citizens to elect their own local officials—"

"Yes, yes," she said. "Of course," he said, "there is a comparison with Hitler, because, like Hitler, I have turned down the opportunity to ally myself with one of our most powerful enemies, the Empire, to fight both Empire and the other strong force in the galaxy."

"You said it, not I," she said.

"That's the real reason for the delegation, isn't it? You think, at home, that I'm biting off more than I can chew?" "There is talk," she said. "Fear, you mean." "Fear. Yes. We're afraid of the casualty reports, Lex. We live by them. For the first time in history

there's unlimited birth on Texas. That's a blessing, I suppose, because now people can have as many children as they want. They can have boys and girls without strict control, letting nature do the balancing. But the joy of a young one in the house is diminished by the news that a husband, a brother, a son has died out here in the galaxy."

"It will end soon."

"Will it, Lex? When you've beaten the Cassiopeians, what then? Will you then come home and bring our young men with you?" "There'll be opportunity to go home." "But you'll have a galaxy at your command. Will you leave it and come back to Texas?" "Those who want to go home will be allowed to go home," he said stubbornly. "And Texas will never be the same. Already we're scattered over vast distances. Families separated.

Men making alliances with Empire women."

"Distance is nothing," Lex said. "You're not aware, apparently, of the work being done at the Blink Space Works on Macall. Using the Empire techniques of miniaturization we are installing multiple generators on ships of the line. That means no charging periods along known space routes, making a series of blinks possible, reducing the distance between, say, Earth and Texas to hours. The approach to a planet will take longer than the blink across galactic distances."

Emily smiled sadly. "And it will make the Texas fleet even more invincible."

"I'd like to talk more with you," Lex said. "Will you May with me? Here?"

"No," she said. He examined her face closely. "I'm still a Texican woman, Lex. I've had my two

husbands and I've lost both of them. I'll admit that once I was close to you, but—"

"Who has changed?" he asked. "You? Me? I'm a Texican, too, Emily. I'm a lonely Texican. I remember how you—"

She broke in, not wanting to hear it. "I am told that Empire women flock to all fleet bases. I am told that they like Texas men."

"A man wants to be with his own," Lex said.

"Then come home, Lex. Let the Empire take care of its problems with Cassiopeia."

"No."

"Why?"

He thought for a moment. He wanted to be truthful with her. He owed her that. "Texicans have died,"

he's aid. "They've died uselessly. Riddent died for no good reason. I'm going to see that there is an end to

useless dying."

The violence of her response shook him, made his face go slack as he withdrew within himself. "Meacr shit," she said. "You're not thinking of Riddent. You're not thinking of dead Texicans. You're thinking of revenge, of yourself. Lex, no amount of killing, no amount of conquest can bring her or them back."

"You are entitled to your opinion," Lex said weakly.

"Tell me, Lex, how does it make you feel to know that you're the moving spirit of the most deadly battle force the universe has ever seen? Does it make you feel powerful?"

He looked at her with his eyes cold. "I know my power," he said. "I know it down to the last man on the

last airors, to the last projectile in the arsenal."

"And do you realize how that power has changed you?"

"We all grow up."

"No," she said sadly. "It isn't just that. You've changed, Lex. You're not Lex anymore. You're not even a Texican. You're Alexander. You're Napoleon. You're capable of wielding unlimited power and that power will, eventually, turn on you. It always has. It always will."

"When it's over, I'll come home."

"No," she said. "No."

When she was gone, Lex sat at his desk, moodily fingering the corner of his star chart. Then, with a shrug, he bent to check, once again, the path of Texican conquest.

Chapter Thirteen

The Second Battle of Wolfs Star lasted two hours and ten minutes. The allied dictatorships had massed their main power there, at the site of the last major engagement with the Empire, and it was met by a Texican fleet which was outnumbered ten to one.

On Texas, Emily heard the engagement called the Slaughter of Wolfs Star.

With the miniaturized multiple-blink generators installed, the Texican fleet blinked circles around the traditional formations of the Cassiopeians. So efficient had become the killers from extra-galactic space that the destruction was selective. First, Darlene projectiles took out the protecting Vandys, then, millions of men dead, a concerted effort demolished the Cassiopeian force of Middleguard cruisers, leaving a core of huge Rearguards grouped together like frightened, herded meacrs.

"To the death," vowed the elected battle leader of the Cassiopeians.

"Death it is, then," Lex sent. "In three minutes and live seconds your ship dies." He himself pushed the button which sent a Darlene projectile blinking into the main control room, there to hang in air as Lex sent, "There is death, my friend. Now you must choose. Surrender, if you will."

"Never," said the dictator, speaking his last word.

"Any more heroes?" Lex sent.

The final engagement of the War of Texican Conquest saw a battered Empire allied with the Cassiopeians, their traditional enemies. Lex sent a phalanx of captured Cassie Rearguards into the scattered formations, spreading fire on all sides. Two days after the final surrender, ship works on a thousand planets began conversion of the huge warships into merchantmen.

Behind him, Arden Wal administered all of the Cassiopeian territory, bending his main effort to trade, for the Cassies excelled at agriculture. In exchange for foodstuffs, a flow of manufactured goods began to stream out of the old Empire even before Lex began the slow, triumphal march to the home planet, old Earth. Blant Jakkes was in charge of the outer limits of Empire. Form had died at the Second Battle of Wolfs Star. Billy Bob Blink, after the final victory, said goodbye and blinked toward Texas. All over the galaxy, young Texican officers were assuming their duties as administrators of planets, groups of planets, vast star fields. An isolated dictatorship, embracing six planets, resisted. The main military planet was broken, burned, using captured Empire planetkillers, and there was peace.

The Texas-builtLone Star , flagship of the victorious Texican fleet, neared old Earth, paused as scanners played over the planetary surface to show, in full color close-ups, a park planet, manicured and clean, population confined to towering cities, the main administrative city covering the central belt of the North American continent in what had once been the states of Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas and Missouri. The spaceports which had once served the capital were deserted. In the streets there was little movement.

Lex scorned the spaceports, lowering theLone Star into the vast reaches of the park surrounding the Emperor's palace. The building, when he stepped out onto the earth of his mother planet, towered over him, gleaming, dazzling in the bright summer sun. The planet was weather-controlled. The temperature, after he confines of a warship, seemed chill at seventy-two degrees. Around him growing things followed orderly patterns as he walked, at the head of his crew of officers, toward the group which was forming to greet him on the palace entry.

The Lady Gwyn was there, dressed officially. In addition, there were somber-faced old men, documents in hand. "In the name of the Emperor," said one official, "we welcome you to Earth."

Lex waved them aside, taking the steps two at a time, his officers following, hands on their side arms. The Lady Gwyn, as they passed, said bitterly, "Gentlemen, this is your new Emperor."

Lex heard. He kept his face forward, striding purposefully up the stairs to the grand entry door. Inside, a huge hall stretched away from him. Uniformed attendants stood fearfully at attention. "The Emperor," Lex said to one of them.

"This way, sir," the attendant said, bowing, leading Lex across the huge hall into a series of corridors until, with another bow, the man indicated a door flanked by two men, tall by Empire standards.

"To see the Emperor," the attendant said. "President Lexington Burns."

Lex brushed past the two guards.

The Emperor was a very old man, small, seemingly enfolded in official robes of purple. Contrary to Lex's expectations, the room was only of moderate size and there was no throne, only a large desk flanked by a bank of communication equipment. The walls were simple white, decorated with sun paintings, the floor not as luxuriously thick in pile as the corridors outside.

"Ah," the Emperor said, standing, making a short, stiff bow. "President Burns. Or should I say Emperor Burns."

"I don't want your title, old man," Lex said.

The Emperor remained standing. Lex examined the simply furnished room.

"If I may have your permission to sit," the Emperor said. "Age is a terrible adversary, even more irresistible than your Texicans."

"Sit, sit," Lex said impatiently.

"Thank you. May I send for something? A brandy, perhaps?"

"Nothing," Lex said. He stalked toward the desk. One chair faced it. He sat, letting his feet stick straight out in front, oversized for the chair. He looked at the old man, wondering.

"So now it's over," the Emperor said. "Strangely, I'm not even sorry."

"Old man, you launched population reducers on Texas," Lex said.

"I plead guilty," the Emperor said, with an open-handed gesture. "For I must confess that even then I felt,

shall we say, a prescient foreboding." He sighed. "Ah, well, there is an end to everything, man, his works, even the universe ultimately."

Lex had looked forward to the moment. All the way, all that long, terrible way, with death his constant companion, feeling the pain of his victims, drinking blood with his soul, a bitter draught. Now, as he looked at the withered, old, feeble man he felt as if he'd been cheated.

"Empires," said the old man, "are among the most fragile of man's creations, coming and going as history marches inevitably onward. Now my time has come, just as yours will come."

"You won't live to see it."

"Ah." Lex noticed that the old hands were shaking even more. "I ask only, if I am allowed that favor, that I be allowed to choose my own way, a peaceful slumber, as it were, in my own bed."

Lex rose, walked to a white wall, examined a particularly effective painting. When he turned, the old man's eyes were on him.

"No," Lex said. "We won't ask that. You can go, if you want to. Pick a place. Just go."

"Ah. There is a planet. It's in the Sirius sector, a family place. Thinly populated, treed, a green place of quietness and peace. I used to go there when—"

"Yeah, sure," Lex said. "Just go, huh? Take any with you who want to go. But do it."

For he had seen, in those few troubled moments, that the death of one old man, already near a natural decease, would change nothing. He turned on his heel and left the Emperor's office, finding his officers in conference with the Emperor's people, discussing an orderly turnover of the mechanics of government. Bored by the discussion he wandered the halls and rooms of the huge building. He discovered the war room in a sub-basement, a huge, gray place of the most sophisticated instrumentation, and that occupied his attention for an hour. Beyond the main room, with its vast arrays of communications, computers and gear, was a wonder which halted his step upon entering, a vast, complicated, scaled model of the galaxy. The loom stretched far and away, two hundred, three hundred feet, and it was filled with it—the galaxy, the stars and the fields and the glowing areas of space debris.

At first he thought he was alone in the room, but he gradually felt the presence of another and he turned to face a uniformed woman.

"Sir," she said.

"Who are you?"

"I am the operator."

"Of this?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's remarkable," he said.

"Shall I show you?" the woman asked.

"Yes."

He seated himself. The woman disappeared. In a moment the model of the galaxy glowed to wondrous

life. It was as if he were looking from the viewport of a ship to see the universe spread before him.

A voice came to him, pleasant, speaking in Empire accents.

"We have traced your progress," the voice said. "From the time you left your home planet and entered

the galaxy here."

A red glow showed the point of entry.

"And I, personally, could not help but admire you," the female voice said, as the red glow began to move

into the galaxy, coloring star after star in its inevitable spread.

"The red color of your movements," the voice said, "the path of conquest as it passed Centaurus and then into Cassiopeian space."

Seeing it graphically reproduced, he felt, for the first time, the sweep of it. In his mind he relived the

march down the starways, in his eyes the glow of red, the color of his achievements.

"At the Battle of Wolfs Star," the woman was saying, but he blanked it from his mind, the voice, and let his eyes watch the march of red toward Earth and then it was all red, the galaxy, all red, all his. And as he watched motion began in the vast wheel as it simulated the 'whirl of the galaxy in space, the movement greatly accelerated. He watched it wheel before his eyes and wished, dreamed, that she was by his side to see. Riddent.

Or Arden Wal. Or Jakkes. Form and Billy Bob. His father. But he was alone with the slowly wheeling galaxy, his galaxy, his red, beautiful galaxy.

And they were dead. Riddent. His father. Form. Billy Bob was back on Texas, probably competing for the hand of a Texas girl. Jakkes and Arden were doing his work out in his galaxy and he was alone.

Emily.

He had offered her a chance to be by his side and she had refused.

A moment of hurt and anger. He could send for her. He was Lex. He could order and she would come,

or be forced to come.

But no.

"Please go," he said.

The woman heard. "Yes, sir," her amplified voice said.

"Leave it turning."

Now he was truly alone with his galaxy and it flowed in red and wheeled in front of his eyes and he

remembered the awe he had felt when he first came to be aware of the extent of the old Empire. Now the Empire seemed puny when compared with the sweep of his galaxy. Now it was all one, under the protection of Texas, a unit. Billions of people with the capability of expanding, of peopling the uninhabited stars past galactic center. Cassiopeia and Empire were one, under the flag of Texas.

Why, then, did he feel as empty as space, as sterile as a sun which has long since gone into nova, crisping life from its planets?

Emily.

She had been so close, once. And there on the flagship when she'd come with the Texican delegation she'd been cold, sadness in her eyes. Why sadness? He had not changed. She compared him with the ancient conquerors of old Earth and, in effect, told him that he had changed. But he bad not changed. He was older and he'd seen enough death and destruction to drive the joys and frivolity of youth from his mind, but every man grows up. How had he changed?

He remembered the day in his home when she was preparing him for his first venture into the Empire, a trip as a prisoner. And, as if she were with him, standing by his side as the model of the galaxy rolled, he could hear her voice.

"You cried because it was beautiful," she had said. "I hope you never lose the ability to cry over beauty."

"No," he said aloud, "I have not changed."

And with a gesture of personal triumph, he wiped a tear from his cheek.

"I haven't changed," he said, his voice going out to lose itself in the sheer wonder and beauty of the galaxy which wheeled majestically before him. His galaxy. And somewhere in it the memory—he did not believe in the soul—the fractured atoms of what once had been Riddent and his unborn son, old Form, dead at Wolfs Star, all of them, all the good Texicans dead and gone, their elemental particles spinning, spinning in space or reintegrating with the soil of Dallas City. And he felt a vast and overwhelming sadness as he watched the model of the galaxy spin them away from him forever. He had come so far. So far. Now it was over, the fighting. Now was only the task of restoring order, of making the galaxy the best possible place for people.

His sadness faded as he faced the task ahead. The Orion Arm swept past him in the accelerated spin of the galactic model and he thought of its emptiness, its vast distances, and relived the march inward, the great, grinding power of it, the cold satisfaction of it, the heat and smell of men at war and the flash of a disintegrating enemy ship of the line. He had led the greatest march of all time. And it was over.

That, he knew suddenly, was the greatest sadness of all. And he knew, then, what she had been talking about, Emily, when she told him he had changed, for it was over and there were no more worlds to conquer and ahead of him stretched the endless chore of keeping it going, his empire.

"When it's over," he had told her, "I'll come home."

But he knew now that he could never go home, for he was at home, wherever he was in his galaxy.

BURNS, LEXINGTON—2572-2605

President, Planet Texas; President, United Texican Galactic Protectorate, later called Emperor. Born to Murichon and Alica Burns, July 13, 2572, on the outlying planet of Texas. Participated in early trading between Texas and the First Galactic Empire; he was sentenced to a punishment tour in the Empire fleet for the kidnapping of Lady Gwyn Ingles in 2589. Served two years in the Empire fleet before enlisting the aid of confederates in taking an Empire ship to Texas. The activities of Burns were instrumental in precipitating the Great War of the Galaxy which ended in Texican conquest, uniting the galaxy, for the first time, under the flag of the Planet Texas. Burns took control of the governmental functions of both the Empire and the Allied Cassiopeian Dictatorships in 2595. An efficient administrator, Burns is credited with altering the age-old patterns of galactic life through agricultural reform and an enlightened attitude toward the freedom of the individual. Adept at delegating authority, Burns seemed to have a flair for selecting efficient governors to administer the vast Empire which he established. Married in his youth to a Texican girl, first name Riddent, surname unknown, he was widowed during the Last Battle of Texas in 2592. He never remarried, although court gossip linked him, with some justification, with various women, among them one Lady Gwyn Ingles, cousin of the former Emperor. His death at the age of thirty-three engendered a lengthy investigation, during which various charges were made and disproved. Popular folklore to the effect that Burns was poisoned by a jealous lover has not found historical confirmation. Upon the death of Burns, the United Texican Galactic Protectorate disintegrated into warring factions, although General Arden Wal, appointed as a successor to Burns, defeated, first, the revolt of the Cassiopeian sector in 2608 and then the New Republics of Texas in 2611. Of Burns, Professor Axil Zenthith has said, in his authoritativeLex the Conqueror , "He was a man five hundred years ahead of his time. His one mistake was in thinking that galactic man, only six hundred years removed from the home planet, could accept and handle unlimited freedom. The worst that can be said of Burns is that he gave the people of the galaxy too much too soon."

GLOSSARY:

Airors: Probably short for air horse. A one man unit of transportation on the Planet Texas.

Arc: A Texican contraction for aircar, used for atmospheric travel on the Planet Texas.

Atmoflyer: Luxurious mode of transportation in the Galactic Empire for travel within the atmosphere. A few models were known to have limited space capacity.

Batgull: A seabird of Texas, half bird, half mammal. Batlike head, two rows of teeth, a long, unfeathered neck dwindling into a chunky, short body covered with dull gray feathers.

Beagle: Flying mammal of Texas. Noted for its appetite, omnivorous, feeding on anything from carrion to vegetation. In appearance, the beagle resembled the extinct bears of Earth, with huge, leathery wings appended to the shoulders.

Biters: Parasitic insects of Texas. As large as an Earth housefly, red and blue striped, biters were, in the early years of Texican settlement, a hazard to both health and comfort.

Blink Drive: A nul-grav, anti-space engine developed on Earth in the 1970s by Zed Blink. A popular explanation of the function of the blink generator, in brief: forces created in the generator negate mass while nullifying the existence of space itself. Under proper direction a chosen vector can be applied to the nul-mass under the influence of the blink generator. In effect, an object under the influence of a blink generator ceases to exist at one point in space and emerges into reality at another chosen point.

Blinkstat: A system of blink generator stations was established under the first Empire with relays at chosen points, enabling a physical message to be "blinked" from any given point in the galaxy, so long as straight line transmission was possible through relay stations.

Blood-flowers: A particularly showy native flower of the Planet Texas, three inches in diameter when fully opened, the bloodflower exuded a liquid of the color and consistency of human blood when disturbed.

Bojacks: An Earth term adapted by Texicans to indicate the wilderness areas of their planet. Comnum: Communications number. Identifying number for the receipt of blinkstat messages or planetary trid calls. Darlene Space Rifle: A weapon developed on the Planet Texas. Anachronistic in one respect, in that it

used a physical projectile, it was advanced in its time since a tiny blink generator allowed the projectile to be delivered instantly on target. Dozer: A potent, non-narcotic sleeping pill used mainly by spacers. Electro-book: After 2050, the form of most printed material. Words were commuted into electronic

impulses, stored in a cartridge and activated into either written or spoken language through an electronic

reader. Expand: A powerful explosive developed on Texas. Used primarily in construction and mining and, on specific occasions, as a weapon of war.

Farl; Largest of the land animals native to the Planet Texas. Smaller than an extinct Earth tiger, the farl was catlike and was said to be the most fearless animal ever encountered by man. In the early days of Texas settlement there were many casualties before the farl population was reduced and confined to wilderness areas.

Hornie: A toadlike reptile; habitat, the deserts of Texas. L.S.A.: Life support armor, a complete life support system in compact form used by spacers. Meacr: Shortened form of the Texican phrase "meat critter." Bovine in character, prolific in breeding, the

meacr became the principal source of meat first on Texas and later in the galaxy.

Nighten: Nightbird of the Planet Texas. Owl-like in form. A flying marsupial, the nighter fed on small rodents. Rio Grande Wine: A general term indicating any number of alcoholic beverages distilled from the juices

of cacti from the deserts of Texas. Sanrab: Short for sand rabbit, an edible rodent of the Texas deserts. T.E.S.: Prefixing initials meaning The Emperor's Ship, preceding the title of all Empire military vessels. T.E.M.S.: See above: The Emperor's Merchant Ship. Toothfish: Warm-blooded fish of the southern oceans ofTexas. Up to thirty pounds. Large mouth with

large display of tearing teeth. In schools, toothfish were dangerous to divers, swimmers and any other form of life to cross their paths. Trid: Three-dimensional form of communication forming an image, amazingly lifelike, on an electron screen.

Vandy: Short for Vanguard destroyer, a swift, small, deadly warship used in both the service of the Empire and the Cassiopeian allied dictatorships. In battle, Vandys, being more agile, were used as strike force, and as security for the larger vessels of the fleets, Middleguard cruisers and the ponderous Rearguard dreadnoughts.

Waken A non-narcotic anti-sleep pill. Used mainly by spacers on duty.

Winglings: The newly born form of the Texican meacr. Capable of swift and darting flight, the wingling soon lost its ability to fly, due to an active metabolism which induced an amazingly fast growth. Weight and the withering of wings soon confined the wingling to the grazing plains.