Galactic Convoy

He frowned. "Why didn't it come through my COMM window?" he asked.

"All the normal COMM links have been shut down for more than a metacycle. Lieutenant,"

she asserted. "This message came through the maintenance channels and-well," she laughed soundlessly, "I thought you might want this one delivered a little differently...." At that moment, alarms chimed on the bridge while Calhoun called all hands to stations for departure, and as quietly as she appeared, the woman was gone.

Maintenance channels? Puzzled, Brim hastily unfolded the small scrap of message plastic from its envelope, then suddenly grinned when it all came clear. "Good luck and universe speed you, lover," the note read in old-fashioned symbols. "Expect all equipment back in one gorgeous hunk. Claudia." Cheeks burning, he tucked the plastic into the arm pocket of his battle suit.

At approximately Night:2:40, Ursis cut generator number four onto the main energy bus; all mooring beams were shut off to the gravity pool; and Brim eased Defiant onto the canal, followed immediately by I.F.S. Deadly, and the four high-speed P-class cruisers Perilous, Perdition, Perisher, and Poison. Out on the open waters of Grand Harbor, the ships went immediately into Readiness Condition One. At Night:2:58, with the ruby eye of vector 91E

centered in his Hyperscreens, Brim began his takeoff run, lifting from the water a few clicks afterward and standing out to space on course 6145H at maximum takeoff velocity. Only cycles later, he cleared the North-forty-five-J synchronous buoy while Ursis started the four DDB-19A7 Drive crystals, and within moments the LightSpeed indicator was on its way past 1.1-Haelic suddenly ebbing into the starry blackness astern as if it had never existed....

Within a metacycle, Onrad's six battlecruisers and five fast battleships were also reported spaceborne; by Night:4:19 the Prince, himself, with his eight battleships took departure as well, all ships setting course 6145H across the galaxy. These thirteen capital warships-with their ancient, tradition-bound names-were the vital heart of Task Force 16.

I.F.S. Resolve, Onrad's flagship, was the scarred victor of a dozen deadly jousts against Anak's power. She was followed by I.F.S. Intractable, I.F.S. Spiteful, and the just-commissioned I.F.S. Ateb Credu. A second division under Vice Admiral Jacob Sturdee comprised I.F.S. Conqueror, I.F.S. Canodd, I.F.S. Morwir, and I.F.S. Thunderer- the last had the largest number of high-amplitude disruptors and turrets in known space. Ahead of these cruised the four fast battleships of Vice Admiral Erat Plutron: I.F.S. Queen Elidean, I.F.S. Ganriel, I.F.S. Daithom, and I.F.S. Barreg. Many considered these the finest warships in the known universe: all had been designed with a nearly perfect balance of stout armor, powerful armament, and extremely high speed. They were considerably smaller than Kabul Anak's three massive Rengas-class battleships, but with proper leadership-in the person of the wily old Plutron-it was widely accepted that the powerful squadron would make more than a match for anything it might encounter. Anywhere.

In the van, Onrad's battlecruiser squadron pushed through space under the broad pennant of Vice Admiral Zorn Hober hi I.F.S. Benwell. Astern Greyffin IV, Princess Sherraine, Gwir Neithwr, Oedden, and Iaith Galad followed in her wake. Three of the sleek battlecruisers were veterans of Anak's earliest raids. Many on board those ships still had deep grudges to settle.

Brim knew that Onrad needed to destroy as many of the Leaguer ships as possible-especially the Surface Occupation Group with its nearly one hundred thousand ground troops. As Collingswood had put it during her briefing, "We want to rid ourselves of this garbage, out in space, not anywhere near an inhabited surface...." However, Onrad was also painfully aware of the League's numerical superiority in ships-and Anak's secondary goal of destroying the Imperial Fleet. So it was his added responsibility to preserve every fighting ship he possibly could. The Prince's handling of the dilemma would prove his mettle as a future Emperor one way or another. And if he lost, he might as well not bother coming home.

Two days later, Brim dozed in a jump seat listening to KA'PPA reports of Task Force 17's departure-during what should have been Haelic's ancient Festival of Lights. This year, Atalanta had shelved tradition in hope of happier tomorrows and a more secure future, but he recalled illustrations, from previous observances: children with colorful flags, speeches, festive bunting, parades. Today, the city's streets would echo to the mighty thunder of great warships lifting from the harbor. He wondered how Claudia was spending her time, then chuckled to himself. He knew how she'd spend at least part of it were he in town...

Four powerful star fleets-the accumulated might of Greyffin IV's galactic Empire and Nergol Triannic's League of Dark Stars-were blindly racing toward one another and a head-on collision with fate. With them traveled issues infinitely greater than the aggregate weights of their hullmetal or manpower. Only one fleet could emerge victorious from their combat. Immediate objectives were defense-or invasion-of a small planet circling a third-class star. Secondary goals, however, would decide the fate of Avalon and a number of neighboring planets. And even these were small compared to the real issues hanging in the balance. The upcoming battles would ultimately decide the whole warp and woof of civilization-for generations to come....

As Task Force 16 continued across the galaxy, its crews settled back into traditional, workaday routines. Every six megacycles, each ship conducted rigorous disruptor practice-and for lack of anything else to do, there were countless inspections of everything-including brasswork and silver-service polish. Aboard I.F.S. Invincible, Captain (the Hon.) Katherine Lorant convened a special mast and clapped two junior navigating officers in the brig for three days each, a woman for "unauthorized partial nudity on the bridge," and a man for "gross misuse of navigational tables."

The initial clash with Leaguer ships occurred on the fourth day out. At approximately Dawn:1:03 Atalanta standard time near BD*2/31:0, I.F.S. Kracken, a K-class destroyer on remote patrol, KA'PPAed sighting two benders at Red, Red-Orange and slightly to nadir, bearing Green, Green-Blue. A few cycles later, Kracken again KA'PPAed-this time to report that she was under attack. Thereafter, nothing more was heard until the reconnaissance craft called back with the words, scratch two benders. Following this, however, do further sightings occurred for nearly two more days.

At last, on the sixth day out, a destroyer on the far yellow wing of Task Group 16's van KA'PPAed three electrifying words: ENEMY IN SIGHT. Brim watched the words flash across his situation display at Morning:2:20. Moments later, the destroyer flashed a second signal: TRANSPORT SQUADRON IDENTIFICATION DEFINITE. SMALL BATTLE CRUISERS AT YELLOW-YELLOW. BEARING GREEN, YELLOW-GREEN AT FIFTEEN THOUSAND LIGHTSPEED. DISTANCE 99188. MY POSITION GV*21/-78:98. I AM ATTACKING WITH...

The transmission ended abruptly at Morning:2:23. After five more cycles, it was generally conceded that Liat-Modal had apparently drawn first blood-but his small victory was nearly a cycle too late. Behind him, Brim could hear Collingswood wrapping up her first report to Onrad that the game had been flushed.

"Well, my friends," she announced straightaway on the bridge intercom, "it seems that Prince Onrad requires us to have an early look at the Leaguers." She grinned. "Commander Calhoun, you may call the ship to action stations. Wilf, bring us onto an intersecting course with those battlecruisers.

"Aye, Captain," Brim said. "Mr. Chairman, I shall need a course alteration to GV*21/-78:98-updated by fifteen thousand LightSpeed at bearing green, yellow-green."

"A moment, Lieutenant," the voice of the Chairman said. Presently, it returned with,

"Updated course alteration will be 48.1 at -10 Nadir in thirty clicks, Lieutenant."

"Very well," Brim acknowledged. "Make to the other ships: 'Alter course in succession: 48.1 at minus 10 nadir.' Then give me a countdown from five for the turn."

"Aye, Lieutenant," the Chairman intoned, "countdown from five."

KA'PPA rings flashed out past the Hyperscreens as Brim checked his controls. "Stand by to change course," he warned.

"Five..." counted the Chairman, "four... three... two .. .one.. . now."

Defiant careened sharply to starboard as Brim turned onto the new course. Whirling in his seat, he watched the other ships follow, one after the other, in perfect formation. "We'll need combat speed, soon, Nik," he warned Ursis's visage in a nearby display.

The Sodeskayan nodded grimly, then turned to his control panel and went to work.

"Fusion rates for all Power Chambers are now at maximum ratings, Wilf," he reported presently.

Brim nodded. Fresh shades of colors wens already spilling across his power panel as Defiant's eight big cascade accelerators pumped tremendous power into the waveguides.

A thrill tingled along his spine. Was it the coming danger that excited him-or was it simply the majesty of a big warship powering up for combat? He shrugged. It was hard to tell the difference.

He switched his intraship to the odd-shaped sick bay where Flynn and his medical crew were hurriedly setting out instruments and dressings. Behind them, the two long rows of healing machines appeared to be empty-for the moment. He shuddered: he would be lucky indeed to avoid one of those slowly pulsing boxes himself in the next few metacycles, and he knew it. Far below in the scorching heat of "Drive Alley," he watched Gamble and Provodnik scurry among rows of gleaming feed tubes, shouting orders and encouragement to the hard-pressed power stokers, and checking readouts on the howling Admiralty N(112-B) power chambers that lined both sides of the Gallery. He shook his head; scenes like that made him doubly glad he was a Helmsman.

Inside the bridge, Grimsby was busy passing out high-energy snacks and hot cups of cvcesse'. "Ye'll need more than armor and disruptors to fight this battle, young Brim,"

Collingswood's elderly steward predicted as he passed the Helmsman's stations balancing a huge tray on one hand.

"I'll take your word for that, Mr. Grimsby," Brim answered grimly, grabbing a sandwich and a steaming cup. The cvcesse' seared his tongue, but blazed down his throat delectably.

He grinned as he glanced at the right-hand seat, where Aram was fanning his mouth.

"Maybe we can make it that hot for brother Liat-Modal," the young A'zurnian quipped over the thunder of the Drive.

"We'll do our best, young man," Wellington piped in from Brim's left. "Believe me."

"Securing internal space-tight doors," Calhoun warned through the intercom.

Brim shuddered in spite of himself. If Defiant took significant damage in battle, that order could mean life for some-and certain death for others who might find themselves trapped in a melting portion of the ship or doomed to the hideous agony of runaway radiation.

Everywhere he focused the intraship, companionways and corridors were empty and still except for a few carelessly closed hatches swinging irregularly here and there as the ship worked. "Defiant is at action stations, Captain Calhoun," Barbousse reported behind him.

"We've got all three N-ray searchlights sweepin' a forward cone around us."

"Very well," Calhoun said calmly. "Carry on, Chief."

Brim grinned. Calhoun spoke like a man who'd commanded a ship for years-as he probably had in his presalvage days.

Outside on the decks, Wellington's big disruptor turrets indexed through their arcs of fire as firing crews tested their mechanisms for the thousandth time. The long-barreled 155s gleamed dully in the light of the passing stars.

Abruptly, symbols for "The Captain" flashed across Brim's intraship followed by Collingswood's very serious face. "Good afternoon, Defiants," she began presently. "It seems that the tables are to be turned shortly. Within the metacycle, it is we who shall be the hunters-and the Leaguers will be faced with the task of defending slow, helpless transports."

She frowned for a moment, then nodded to herself. "I am taking this opportunity to make each of you aware that we shall soon encounter what we believe to be a strong force of Leaguer warships escorting some thirty troop transports. If we're right, the transports belong to Admiral Liat-Modal, and they must be destroyed."

Brim visualized nearly five hundred fifty Blue Capes at monitors throughout the ship, hanging on her every word. Like most vessels of war, Defiant had few Hyperscreens away from the bridge area-most of her crew were blind to events outside the hull, reacting only to streams of orders from the eyes of the ship on the bridge. Collingswood's willingness to keep them informed was only one of the many reasons why many crews considered her the finest commander in the fleet.

"I don't need to tell you the critical importance of our next few metacycles," she continued,

"or the risks we shall take during them. Numerically, the odds are in our favor, at least for this particular battle. However, since we are going in first, we shall face the bulk of their defenses alone-at least until the more powerful warships catch up. But we've got a good turn of speed, and we're an experienced crew. That's probably enough to see us through-so long as each of us does his and her duty for the Empire. That's no small order, especially with the odds we shall face in the next few cycles, but it's all anyone will ask from you-Prince Onrad, Admiral Penda, Greyffin IV, and myself included." She paused and closed her eyes for a moment, then pursed her lips. "That's about it," she said. "Good luck to each of you. And may the Universe watch over us and our ship." The display faded and returned to its previous view. Brim turned in his seat and watched Collingswood settle back in her recliner, clearly drained of emotion.

"Good words, Regula," Calhoun said quietly. "Not easy, those....."

"We're picking up something at the extreme range of our directors," Wellington announced tensely a few moments later. "From the size and the bearing, I'll guess it's our first contingent from the League."

Brim pegged her report at precisely Brightness:l:03. Not long afterward, he spotted the ships himself through the Hyperscreens, a constant pattern of long, green Drive plumes standing out in cold relief from the random starry background.

"Bloody good o' the misbegotten zukeeds to stumble in at all!" a wag exclaimed from the rear of the bridge. "Be just like 'em to say they're comin' an' then fail to show."

Brim chuckled as he slowed Defiant's headlong flight-Collingswood's job was to report on the enemy fleet after all, not to race it home.

"By the very Universe," Wellington commented as they drew steadily closer. "They haven't even formed their transports into wheels!"

"You're... right," Calhoun declared as Defiant began to pull abreast of the rearmost Leaguer ships. "Liat-Modal must be suffering from mental saddle sores."

"Perhaps not," Calhoun warned quietly while Collingswood made her report to Onrad in the background. "Those are slow ships over there, noo," he said, indicating the transports off to starboard, "an' a perfect opportunity for the Leaguers to use their benders. We may e'en now find ourselves lookin' down the bore of a hidden torpedo tube."

"Aye, Cal," Wellington acknowledged, busying herself at the COMM sectors of her console. "I've got extra lookouts everywhere," she asserted presently, "especially below in the ventral observation stations."

"Well done, Dora," Calhoun responded with a grin.

Off to starboard, a number of Drive plumes were now arcing away from the convoy toward them. NF-110s, Brim guessed from the throbbing shade of green.

"Stand by to engage," Calhoun warned in an eager voice.

Brim stole a glance aft at Defiant's great wide Drive plume curving gracefully away into the distance. She could match speed and firepower with any NF-110 or Gorn-Hoff. For a moment, he thought of Collingswood's remarks and wondered how the Leaguers felt now that they were on the defensive end of things.

"All crews, energize your disruptors."

"What do you reckon they'll do with those battleships?" Aram asked, nodding through the forward Hyperscreens toward the huge outlines of capital ships now clearly discernible against the Drive plumes of the transports. Their ponderous main batteries were still parked in the fore-and-aft positions.

Defiant bumped around a space hole, and Brim found himself busy with the controls for a moment. Then he frowned, watching the forward turret index off toward the incoming escorts.

"My guess is that the big boys are watching Onrad's battlecruisers coming in from astern,"

he said presently, "they'll expect the Gorn-Hoffs to take care of smaller fish like ourselves and the destroyers." He grinned and glanced across at the young A'zurnian. "At least, that's what I hope they'll do," he added with a chuckle. "Those rustbuckets may be old, but they do have big disruptors!"

"Light cruisers: take independent action against escorts," Brim heard Collingswood order. "That frees Defiant, too, Cal," she added. "I'm finished with my reporting."

"Did you hear that, young Brim?" Calhoun asked.

"Aye, sir," Brim answered, "independent action." With that, he eased Defiant's helm to port apex and skewed course toward the approaching escorts.

Suddenly, a tense voice shouted from his situation display. "Look out!

Torpedoes-bearing yellow!"

Brim put the helm hard over and shoved Defiant's nose to nadir just as a spread of three torpedoes flashed overhead, missing the bridge by no more man thirty irals before they disappeared off to starboard. "Where in thraggling xaxt?..." he started, but he was cut off by a second warning,, shouted this time from directly behind him on the bridge.

"Bender at Purple plus ten!"

Brim spotted the ugly little ship at the same time, closing in slowly from port. Evidently, she had just now entered Defiant's N-ray coverage zone. In the background, he could hear the calm voices of Wellington's disruptor crews calling out a litany of bearings. Even as they spoke, the single forward 152 indexed around, dipped, then slowly elevated and steadied. A cycle later, it hurled out a stunning bolt of green brilliance that shattered the darkness and blanked the stars themselves, jerking the deck and filling him with a wild exultation.

"Great Universe!" someone gasped. Wellington's crew had scored a direct hit with a single shot. Instantly, the bender disappeared in a shattering burst of wild flame and energy, literally dissolving from 'midships outward until she was totally engulfed in a bright, roiling puffball that altogether consumed itself in a few cycles-except for two sparkling comets that receded quickly into the distance: the heavy structures of her power chambers.

Brim glanced down at his hands. Surprisingly, they weren't even shaking.

"Bearing Blue and up 200," one of the disruptor chiefs ordered, "distance 4100...." The forward disruptor indexed back to starboard and began to line up on the incoming escorts.

"Shoot!" This time, it fired in concert with the main batteries aft for a full salvo. The bridge deck kicked violently under Brim's feet and cvcesse' containers rattled from consoles all over the bridge. When the clouds of sparkling radiation dissipated outside, Brim altered course a little to make the Shooting easier, then cleared space around him. Nothing. At least nothing he could see....

Defiant thudded past the well of another space note, then steadied again on course.

"Shoot!"

Brim swiveled to visually clear the space around them.

"Hey, look!" a woman's voice squealed. "We hit another one of the bastards! Good show, Dora!"

"That'll do for 'im!"

"Yeah. Good shooting, Dora!"

Brim glanced over at the ravaged Gorn-Hoff, afire in three places 'midships and beginning to fall off to starboard nadir, clearly out of control. The curved armor coating over her deckhouse had been peeled back like a cheap food container exposing most of the ship's interior to space. He could almost feel the enemy Helmsman's desperation as one by one his controls failed.

"That fixed the bloody zukeed!" someone shouted exuberantly. The enemy ship continued steadily on a straight course for a few more cycles, then began to roll to the right until its decks were nearly vertical to Defiant's, Suddenly, its back broke in a cloud of sparks and debris; moments later, the blasted wreck separated into two fragments and fell rapidly away aft.

"Benders again, for the love of Voot-LOOK OUT!" someone else yelled out in a voice shrill from stark terror.

Brim whirled in his seat in time to spy two of the ugly little ships as they slipped inside N-ray range. His eyes focused only clicks before Defiant's bridge jumped violently with incredible concussion and noise. Gravity pulsed from a massive energy release, throwing him violently against his restraining harness. At the same instant, the aft Hyperscreens shattered and cabin pressure dropped with the force of a powerful explosion. Suddenly, a white-hot hullmetal splinter whirled through the back of his seat and melted a large area in the upper arm of his battle suit. Caught off guard, he bellowed in pain as the shard burned through his flesh, then smashed against an instrument panel in a shower of sparks and fell smoking to the deck at his feet. For a moment, he caught sight of blood streaming from the blackened, smoking rip in his suit. Then his battle suit sealed itself-and his arm-in a second avalanche of pain and torment. Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to focus on the controls again. Somebody was screaming in the background-more like a wild animal than anything else. He forced that from his mind as he struggled with the controls.

"Damage Control..." he heard Calhoun demand, "report!"

"Disruptor bit just abaft the bridge," someone answered above a cacophony of pleas for medical teams on the voice circuits-and the wild-animal screaming that continued as an insane background. "Radiation fires in electrical compartments five and sixteen.

Companionway nineteen from COMM house blocked...."

Defiant's 155s lashed out twice as she passed the bender-both times they missed by a c'lenyt. Grimly, Brim banked around to close the range, but the little ship was more maneuverable, easily turning inside him and out of N-ray range. He was still trying to ignore the screaming when it stopped abruptly, abandoning the voice band to absolute silence for a few moments until the confusion began again. In the next moments, he checked on Aram-who was clearly unscathed-then glanced around the bridge. Aft, everything was covered by glittering Hyperscreen shards. The whole rear of the bridge was now open to space and a confused Hyperlight starscape beyond. Loose equipment rolled free in the aisles, and two massive canopy supports had smashed across a number of consoles. Here and there, stretcher bearers and damage-control teams picked their way through the glowing wreckage. Yet Defiant's controls appeared to be unaffected-and no change registered on her LightSpeed meters. He switched his intraship display to Ursis.

The Bear looked up grimly, then nodded and touched his forefinger to his thumb in the universal sign of satisfaction.

"Casualty report!" Calhoun ordered behind him.

"One moment, Commander,'' a voice answered. Then presently: "Fifteen starmen trapped in COMM compartment seventeen and destroyed by radiation..."

Brim shuddered at the thought of the trapped men dying by inches in the most excruciating pain known in the galaxy. He gritted his teeth as the report went on.

"...One officer located under wreckage in companionway nineteen-moved to sick bay, all countermeasures personnel on bridge duty killed by flying Hyperscreen shards..."

Brim forced his mind from the horrible disclosures, visually cleared space again-for whatever little that seemed to be worth anymore-then looked up as Collingswood tapped him on the shoulder and pointed out through the Hyperscreens.

"Dora, Wilf," she exclaimed breathlessly, "look-the Leaguer battlecruisers are moving out wide. They're getting ready for Onrad and leaving the old battleships to protect the transports. Now's the chance for a torpedo run!"

Brim understood immediately. With Defiant's tremendous speed, they could be in and out of the formation before the lumbering old warships could fly into range. Liat-Modal had committed a disastrous mistake-one the Imperials had learned to avoid by their own costly process of trial and error. "Aye, Captain," he responded, completely forgetting the dull throbbing in his arm as he eased the helm over to starboard nadir.

"Chief Barbousse!" Wellington ordered over the intraship. "We'll have the torpedoes, if you please."

"Aye, Commander," Barbousse's voice answered from Wellington's console. "All tubes are loaded and primed."

Wellington glanced over at Brim and pointed into the Leaguer formation. "I'm going after that one, Wilf," she said, "the transport second from port in the top echelon-I think it's the biggest. We've got it locked in on the directors."

"I see it, Dora," Brim said grimly, skidding the ship slightly to provide a better angle of fire. She'd picked the biggest one, all right, but one of the old battleships was still cruising nearby, her massive turrets even now swinging Defiant's way. The disruptors looked to be at least ten c'lenyts in length! He shuddered, but held his course. Ahead and to starboard, the transport was growing steadily in the Hyperscreens, but at best Barbousse faced a terrible deflection shot.

"We'll use a spread of all four torpedoes, Chief," Wellington ordered.

"Aye, Commander," Barbousse's voice answered tensely from Wellington's console.

"Spread of four." Then the big rating's visage appeared on Brim's intraship. "Steady, sir," he said.

"Steady..." Brim started to answer, but he was interrupted by a tremendous explosion outside as the old battleship fired off a ranging salvo at them. It missed, but the energy concussion nearly knocked Defiant on her beam ends. Loose equipment and debris cascaded along the deck again while startled crew members stifled screams on the voice circuits. No sooner had Brim fought the cruiser back on an even keel than the battleship's old K-149A disruptors began glowing as they built up their next charge. Grinding his teeth, Brim steered closer to the transport. It would be hard for the battleship to fire without risking damage to its ward. "How're you doing, Chief?" he asked.

"We're awfully close, Lieutenant," Barbousse answered through clenched teeth. "I can't miss at this distance, but you'll have to get out of here fast when I let 'em go, or we'll get caught in our own blast."

"I'm ready," Brim said tightly. "Let 'em go."

"Aye, sir," Barbousse said. Presently four torpedoes streaked past the starboard Hyperscreens, hurtling toward the transport from point-blank range.

"Nik!" Brim bellowed, "lemme have full EVERYTHING!"

"Full everything coming up, Wyilf!" Ursis said in an excited voice. "Now!"

A split instant later, all four torpedoes hit the speeding transport in a tightly spaced pattern just abaft the bridge, In the scant clicks Brim could watch, the big starship's hull erupted first in a glowing pulse of flame and debris that was rapidly followed by a huge, expanding puffball of atmospheric vapor as the hull ruptured, then split lengthwise like some gigantic rotten fruit. Brim squeezed his eyes shut for a moment-he'd never seen ten thousand beings perish before-at least not all at one time. He felt the gorge rise in his throat.

"Voot's beard, you two!" Wellington exclaimed happily over the thunder of the straining Drive crystals, "nobody told me you two practiced using cannon. Where'd you get the powder?"

"Thought you'd brought it aboard!" Brim bellowed as he headed straight for the rear deckhouse of the battleship. The aft turrets were indexing around at him, but not nearly fast enough to track his speeding cruiser. Suddenly, he had an idea. "Chief!" he exclaimed through the intraship, "you got a couple of space mines on the tracks back there?" In the display, he watched Barbousse glance down at his consoles.

"Four, Lieutenant," the big rating answered. "Like the regulations say." He touched a bank of sensors. "They're armed now...."

"Let 'em all go on my count of three," Brim said through clenched teeth. "One..." The angular battleship was huge in Defiant's Hyperscreens now-and so were the disruptors as they continued to index. "Two..." He clenched his teeth and headed for a point only a few irals from the top of the battleship's bridge. "Three!" A milli-instant later, the massive stern and huge aft turrets passed under Defiant's, sharp bow, and in a trice he cleared the bridge, hauling the controls back into an almost vertical climb away from the battleship's deck.

Almost spasmodically, the forward turrets erupted in full salvos, but the great energy beams passed far beneath Defiant's soaring hull. Then a great pulsing glare flooded the bridge from aft as the powerful space mines exploded-with no Hyperscreens to filter the blinding flash. Brim swiveled in his seat in time to watch the massive old ship swerve sharply off course, her entire stern a mass of seething radiation flame. An instant later, she was rammed by a transport coming up at full speed from aft. The latter scraped along the massive armored flank of the battleship in a bright shower of sparks, then rose up at the bow as if in pain as the battleship slid beneath its hull in a secondary discharge of flame and shimmering ice crystals.

Brim had just turned back to his controls when Defiant seemed to stop in midspace as if she had struck some preposterously invisible wall. The bridge lurched violently upward, and he was again thrown against his restraining harness so brutally that his neck nearly snapped. Whole consoles broke loose in the absence of cabin gravity, smashing through the side Hyperscreens in cascades of flying debris. A bright glow pulsed from beneath the hull, then died suddenly-along with the thunder of the Drive. Without Alpern or his crew to man the countermeasures gear, they'd been torpedoed themselves. He knew it! Abruptly, the big ship rolled on her side and veered off to nadir-only moments before a second swarm of torpedoes blazed overhead. They'd never had time to launch a decoy pseudopod.

"We've lost E turret!" Wellington exclaimed over the intraship.

"Both crystals are fractured, Wilf!" Ursis roared a moment "And something terrible's happened in the Drive chamber."

Suddenly, Provodnik's helmeted face appeared in the intraship. Behind him, the Drive chamber was a blazing arena of destruction. Bodies lay everywhere, and great bolts of energy probed here and there through the thick smoke from fractures in the feed tubes. The young Bear's eyes were opened wide, almost as if he couldn't believe what had happened.

He slowly dropped his jaw as if be wanted to speak; instead, he vomited a crimson spray of blood against the faceplate of his helmet. When this cleared, his eyes had turned up in his head, and he soon slid from the intraship's view.

Brim almost threw up himself as the remainder of the transport fleet boiled around the cruiser's faltering path. One big vessel passed so close she scraped her KA'PPA tower along Defiant's keel plates, filling the hull with an ear-splitting, clanging rasp and shaking the bridge so violently that Brim momentarily lost his touch on the helm. Before he could recover, Defiant veered off to starboard, narrowly missing another transport-but inadvertently saving herself from an onrushing battleship whose field of fire was suddenly obscured. Biting his lip, Brim hauled the ship over into a tight bank and charged around into the very teeth of the convoy-which immediately disappeared in streaks of shimmering light as they swarmed past at double Defiant's present speed.

And suddenly there were no more Leaguers. It was only Brightness:1:43, forty cycles to the click since Wellington's first sighting-and they were out of the war! In the few cycles since his first reversing turn, the Leaguers had once more become a distant pattern of bright sparks against the starry blackness. Aft through the shattered Hyperscreen frames, he could now see the ghostly, HyperSpeed images of Onrad's task force bearing down at high velocity with Admiral Plutron's quartet of fast battleships in the van. Liat-Modal was about to lose much of his fleet-and a hundred thousand Leaguer troops had just been placed under an irrevocable death sentence.

"KA'PPA signal from Admiral Plutron in Queen Elidean to you personally," a COMM rating announced to Collingswood, her voice muffled by the emergency battle circuits. "I thought perhaps you might want it delivered by hand."

"Thank you," Collingswood answered-as if she expected the message. Presently, Brim heard her chuckle. "Return this to the Admiral, please," she ordered. "'Eyebrows somewhat singed, but essential parts intact. Will demonstrate in port.' I believe that will do for an answer."

"Aye, Captain...."

In the background, Brim could hear a struggling rescue officer. "Over here, lads," she puffed. "Lively now-there's two blokes trapped under this lot of rubbish."

Brim swiveled his seat while Queen Elidean blazed majestically past, followed closely by Ganriel, Daithom, and Barreg. Aft, in the hardest-hit portion of the bridge, rescue teams were chopping away with laser axes at the twisted remains of a heavy overhead Hyperscreen support. Beneath, half buried in blood-soaked debris, two obscene chunks of flesh protruded from a flame-blackened battle suit. He shivered in spite of himself as the horrible spectacle was obscured by two ratings carrying a dripping, blood-drenched stretcher piled with the remains of three shattered bodies-not one of them was more than two-thirds complete. He turned back to his console and waited for the damage report while he shook his head, the horror remained fixed in his mind's eye. War could be romantic only to those who had never experienced the realities of combat.

Suddenly, Ursis's brooding visage appeared in his intraship; behind him, the ruins of the Drive chamber continued to spark and flicker in scintillating clouds of free ions. Brim glanced over to the Bear's duty station on the bridge. It was now filled by the clearly human form of Gamble. He nodded to himself. Provodnik's loss would be appalling to his Sodeskayan friend. Bears tended to stick together. "Except for loss of lives here, Wilf Ansor," the Bear reported, "things are not so bad as they look." He motioned with a bloodstained arm to animated groups of ratings swarming over the feed tubes with bubbling dispensers of radiation sealant. " Defiant is probably finished with battle now, but we should be able to maintain almost half speed within the metacycle-and that will get us home."

"What about Provodnik?" Brim asked gently, but he already knew the answer.

Ursis raised his eyes and bit his lip. "My countryman Provodnik has departed to join his eternal ancestors," he said in a melancholy voice. Then he shrugged phlegmatically, "One always expects that the cost of war will be exorbitant, Wyilf Ansor-and one is seldom disappointed."

During the next metacycle, Prince Onrad himself ordered Defiant to set course back to Atalanta. WORST CASE, REGULA, he KA'PPAed just before his attack, WE SHALL NEED YOUR DISRUPTORS WHEN YOU ARRIVE-OTHERWISE WE SHALL NEED YOUR HELP CELEBRATING. Shortly after that, at Brightness:2:71 by Brim's watch, a series of tremendous flashes pulsed among the stars ahead, rapidly increasing in frequency and number until the entire starscape was blanked by a violent-constant-strobing that was punctuated here and there by glittering blossoms of pure color that marked a hit on some unlucky starship.

As the heavy firing continued-receding farther and farther into the distance ahead-incoming KA'PPA reports served as clear indication that Onrad was successfully pressing home his attack and the Imperials were winning the day.

In due time, Defiant's lookouts began to point out clumps of debris and glowing, burned-out wrecks along their path. Most were the remains of transports-still coasting along their last controlled flight path on momentum alone as they inexorably decelerated toward LightSpeed. Some were surrounded by pitiful clouds of glimmering lifeglobes, but many had none. Brim supposed it mattered very little either way. By the time League salvage vessels could fly to the rescue, the 'globes would long ago have exhausted their life-support systems.

One of the hulks they passed at close range was surrounded by no more than five 'globes, but appeared to be covered by thousands of tiny insects-each the shape of a human being-Collingswood's space garbage....

Among the Leaguer warships they passed, most were Gorn-Hoff attack cruisers and a few NF-110s. Those that could still move under their own power occasionally fired off a salvo or two, but most of these were efficiently dealt with by Wellington and Defiant's intact complement of 155s. The only benders they encountered were also total wrecks. Messages beamed back from Onrad indicated that the fragile starships were relatively helpless in major fleet actions when they could be spotted before they fired their torpedoes.

Collingswood and Calhoun gave wide berth to the three disabled Leaguer battleships they passed-one was the group flagship, Lempat, veteran of nearly all the war's early engagements. Colossal radiation fires were burning at three points along her corpulent hull, and she was clearly coasting down toward LightSpeed. Nothing remained of her massive tower bridge save a burned-out stump that emerged from the blackened skeleton of a forward deckhouse. If Liat-Modal had been anywhere near his duty station when that blow came, he had been reduced to atomic particles along with most of his staff.

Now and again, they slowed to pick up survivors of Imperial warships who had taken to their 'globes, but they bypassed those that-like themselves-were still underway or had deployed no 'globes for one reason or another. Support ships like Nimrod and Steele would eventually take care of them, along with their crews.

By Brightness:3:77, the flashes-now far in the distance ahead-began to peter out, and during the next metacycle subsided completely. From the stream of KA'PPA traffic recorded in the COMM station. Brim learned that the last of the transports had been destroyed-nearly forty cycles after the last Leaguer defenders fled from their charges at top speed. At Evening:00:05, Onrad himself KA'PPAed, ALL TASK FORCE 17 SHIPS RETURN TO CRUISING STATIONS NOW, then he set a diagonal course that would eventually bring his task force into contact with Penda's Task Force 16-if neither had spotted Anak's main battle groups first. Clearly, the opening stage of the battle had been resolved by the Imperials.

When the next stage would come, however, was anybody's guess....

It began a lot sooner than anyone suspected. During the very next watch, at Evening:1:10, reconnaissance scouts from Task Group 17 finally located Anak's battlecruiser fleet at long range. Both scouts were eventually destroyed, but not before they broadcast significant position information concerning the invasion fleet. Miraculously, Penda had placed his fleet directly in Anak's path. The Leaguer Admiral was now without the veil of secrecy that had protected him up until then. Onrad issued immediate orders setting Task Group 16 onto a converging course, but it was clear from the beginning that he could never hope to cover such a distance in time to coordinate his efforts with Admiral Penda's attack. Task Force 17 would have to go it alone....

With the Drive stabilized at just below half speed and a course set directly for Atalanta, little remained for Defiant's crew except to wait fretfully for battle reports on the KA'PPA.

They had already made their contribution to the battle; their fate would now be settled by others-at a distance.

Brim was in the wardroom during Night watch, huddled around a KA'PPA display with Ursis and most of the other off-duty officers when the critical message arrived from Penda's forward scouts: ENEMY IN SIGHT. WE ARE ATTACKING.

"Voof," the Bear said imperturbably between puffs of his Zempa pipe, "now it continues, eh?"

"Continues and ends, perhaps," Wellington offered.

"Ends?" Ursis laughed grimly, looking the gunnery officer in her face. "You are a student of history, Dora, Have you uncovered a time when there was no war anywhere among the civilized domains?" He blew a long puff of Hogge'poa toward the ceiling. "So long as the old are willing to send their young off to kill and die for them, there will be war."

"One always hopes that things will change for the better, Nik," Wellington said, staring into her goblet of meem.

"Indeed, one always hopes," Ursis sighed wistfully. "Unfortunately, one is usually disappointed." Just then a series of messages began to flash across the KA'PPA display....

In the opening clashes, Penda's Imperial ships appeared to give good account of themselves, inflicting grievous damage on the invading fleet, in spite of the tremendous firepower of Anak's new super battleships. During the first turbulent moments alone, thirteen of the League's seventeen light cruisers were destroyed by accurate fire from their Imperial peers. And six of Anak's eight powerful battlecruisers were annihilated by the Empire's crack 1st Battle Squadron-quickly proving the folly of too much armor sacrificed for maneuverability. Throughout this phase of the battle, the benders proved to be little more than an annoyance, although at least two Imperial destroyers and a light cruiser were lost to their torpedoes. Nevertheless, during the metacycles that followed, the Leaguers' overwhelming numerical superiority made its presence felt, and the tide inexorably began to change against the outnumbered Imperials.

One by one, foreboding messages began to arrive at Defiant's communications center, each with grimmer news than the last. In a single blow, the three old battlecruisers under Vice Admiral Theobald Corinth, Dilaf, Llongwr, and Ennil, were destroyed with no survivors.

Grizzled old Corinth had exacted a high price for his ships, however: he'd taken the League's giant new battleship Nazir with him, along with the Second-Division flagship Karmat and three heavy cruisers. Not long afterward, proud Ganeth, scarred veteran of a dozen clashes with the forces of Nergol Triannic blew up with all hands, after devastating Anak's giant Parnas and crippling two of her escorts, the First Squadron battleships Samrad and Posen. Then in quick succession, Vanguard and Calid Isel withdrew from the battle with severe hull and Drive damage after disabling or destroying six of the nine battleships from Anak's Second Squadron. Within the megacycle, Triumph and Superb were also put out of action after wreaking havoc in Anak's Third Squadron, and it was soon clear that only a miracle could save the day for the Imperials.

In Defiant's wardroom, the news was received at first with tears of sorrow, then with utter horror. Nergol Triannic's invading armies may well have been destroyed in the early phases of the battle-along with all his plans of occupation. But in the absence of effective opposition by Imperial ships, his powerful fleets would soon be able to utterly destroy the base at Atalanta. "And from there," as Aram put it, studying a map of galactic approaches, "Avalon will be an easy step, indeed."

Brim visualized the coming terror that would soon be unleashed over the streets of the ancient city. He ground his teeth helplessly, thinking of the brightly dressed natives-especially Claudia. They'd all suffered enough of Triannic's evil already-and the worst was clearly to come....

News of Dinas Pont's near destruction and the critical wounding of Admiral Witan Penda brought tears to many eyes-including Brim's. He had been recording a rough tally on his napkin during the preceding metacycles. According to his figures, Rear Admiral Klaus Fischer-who had taken temporary command when Penda was wounded-faced sixteen capital ships with only two surviving battleships, Invincible and Sterling. The latter were powerful warships, to be sure, but in her combat, even the mighty Dinas Pont had been able to destroy only four enemy battleships before she was overwhelmed by sheer numbers. By Moming:3:30 Atalanta time, Task Force 17 had been reduced to hit-and-run raids against Anak's still-powerful fleet as it sped on its way toward Atalanta, now only a single day's travel in the distance.

At Morning:3:61, Folkrum Congor and Task Force 18 sortied from Atalanta on direct orders from the Admiralty. Approximately 12 metacycles later, they joined the remnants of Task Force 17 in a last desperate attempt to stop Anak's fleet. As predicted, the old ships were no more than a foolish sop to Admiralty pride. The leaguers swept past Conger's battleships as if they had no existence. Fortunately, Congor himself was nobody's fool, and after making what appeared to be a last-ditch stand, he quickly withdrew his ships and then joined with the remnants of Task Force 17 to harass the enemy's flanks until Onrad's powerful reinforcements could arrive.

The next morning, with Prince Onrad still nearly a day distant, Atalanta reported its first attacks by Leaguer capital ships. From this first dispatch, it was obvious that Admiral Anak intended to inflict maximum punishment for the part the city and its base had played in building up the Imperial fleet. Brim was at Defiant's controls when he read the first KA'PPAed message, and he felt himself tense at the grisly descriptions.

Clearly, he was not the only one on the Defiant's airless bridge who was reading the messages that morning.

"Great Universe," Collingswood swore in an unhappy whisper, her voice muffled inside her battle helmet. "Such horrible destruction and suffering-I feel so powerless," She shook her head despondently.

"Indeed," Urns answered. "One wishes he could do something-anything-to help."

"Speaking of 'powerless,'" Wellington grumped, "I surely hope our dim-witted friends the Gradygroat gunners are enjoying themselves this morning in their xaxtdamned useless space forts." She laughed grimly. "I guess they probably never will figure out how to get power through truth...."

"GREAT THUNDERING UNIVERSE, Dora!" Ursis's bass voice erupted over the voice circuits. "That's IT!"

"What's 'it,' Nik?" Brim asked, tearing his eyes from another dismal message passing through his display.

"'Power through truth,'" Ursis repeated in an urgent voice. I know how the ancient Gradygroats powered their space cannon."

"You what?" Wellington gasped.

"I understand the old Gradygroat space cannon," Ursis reiterated. "The secret's been right in front of us all along. We simply never looked at what lay directly beneath our noses.

Their motto! Think of the second line first: "The path of power lies through truth.' It's the key to everything."

"A key to you, maybe," Wellington stated flatly. "It's still gibberish to me."

"Visualize the main floor of the monastery," Ursis said, ignoring her sarcasm. "That gold cone of Truth that reflects the energy beam from the G-seed. If somebody removed it from the center of the floor, what would happen?"

"I... I think I remember you claiming something crazy like lifting the whole monastery into space at escape velocity, or something." Brim interjected.

"It's exactly what I said, Wilf," Ursis said evenly. "Take that reflecting cone away and the energy from the Kaptnor G-seed would flow directly from the Power lens into the floor. It would lift the monastery. I know it."

"But then what?" Wellington interjected. "How does that get power to the old space cannon?"

"Patience, Dora, my friend," Ursis said excitedly. That is the one part of which I have no proof. But do any of you remember the egg-shaped chapels built into each of the space forts-and how each of them is always oriented toward Hador?"

Brim nodded. "Yeah," he said with a grin. "I can still remember thinking that if the Gradygroats went to all that trouble, there had to be something worthwhile about their teachings. I actually thought of going back to the library someday to read about them. And maybe I still will-provided the xaxtdamned Leaguers don't blow it up first."

"If I am correct, Wyilf Ansor," Ursis declared, "you probably will never get the chance." He held up a slender finger. "That is where the first line of the Gradygroat motto comes into play: 'In destruction is resurrection.' Because when that monastery lifts off from City Mount Hill, it will be programmed to fly directly into the surface of Hador."

"Into the surface of Hador?" Wellington interjected suddenly. "Nikolai Yanuarievich Ursis, what have you been smoking in that foul Zempa pipe of yours?"

Ursis grinned and tamed in his seat. "Dora, my dear," he implored. "Listen for a moment.

We have very little time to act. I believe it was you who once said that it would take a power source the magnitude of a solar flare to run those cannon. Well, when the monastery-and its G-seed-crashes into the photosphere of Hador, a solar flare is precisely what you will have.

And, as the Gradygroats say, 'The path of power lies through truth.'"

"Great thundering Universe," Wellington exclaimed suddenly. "Of course. The energy from the flare will flow into the space forts through Power windows that always face Hador....

But then what? How will it get to the cannon?"

Ursis grinned. The Gradygroat gunners will first remove the Truth cones from the floors of their chapels. This will in turn uncover the crystal lens in the floor that opens into the fort's disk structure. The flare's energy will actually be distributed by those inner cones-the ones whose use we could not fathom when we inspected the disk structures. They work in the same manner as the central cone in the monastery. Where that one reflected the G-seed's energy to specific 'star' locations in the ceiling, these are shaped to direct individual beams through the windows under each cannon-and finally into the angled breech fittings on the weapons themselves."

Wellington only shook her head. "Universe, Nik," she whispered. "I think you're right-you've got to be right. We've seen everything but the guidance system in the monastery with our very eyes. And, right now, I'm willing to take that on faith." Then she put a hand to her helmet. "But how do we get all those Truth cones removed from way out here?"

"That is a problem," Ursis asserted with a frown. "Captain," he said, swiveling toward Collingswood, "you've been listening. Where would you start? We must at least get the monastery off the ground before it is damaged beyond its ability to fly-or the G-seed is released and by itself destroys Atalanta."

"I've been trying to think of something while you talked," Collingswood answered. "The Gradygroats ordered everybody out of the monastery early in the attack, so there's no one there to help." She shook her head. "I suppose we might try Operations in Atalanta. Perhaps they could send someone up the hill...." She called up the COMM center. "See if you can raise anybody in the OPS room back at the Fleet base."

Long cycles passed silently until a rating's voice reported that she had been unable to contact anyone. With the base under direct space attack, only immediate operational messages were getting through.

"Try again with a 'Captain's Priority Immediate,'" Collingswood suggested.

"Beggin' the Captain's pardon," the COMM room answered, "but that's the priority we had to use to get 'em to talk long enough so they'd turn us down."

"Pretty busy there, then, eh?" Collingswood asked.

"Aye, Captain. They sound very busy."

"Thank you, COMM," Collingswood said. "Any other ideas here on the bridge?"

After an interminable moment, Brim broke the silence. "How about that Intelligence unit on Atalanta that helped run the Payless operation? I'll bet they'd have someone to send."

"You're right," Collingswood said, nodding her head, "but I wouldn't have any idea how to get in touch with them. They always called us, if you remember." Then she paused. "Even if we could raise them," she continued after a few moments, "is there any reason to think that they would even believe us?"

"Borodov would believe us," Ursis interrupted quietly. "One finds it easy to forget that he is in the Intelligence Command, but he will also know how to contact the unit at Atalanta."

"Try it, Nik," Collingswood said tensely. "COMM room-see if you can get set up a scrambled two-way KA'PPA to Captain A.A. Borodov. Try the central research center in Avalon."

Only a few cycles passed until the COMM center announced, "We have him, Captain."

Moments later, the characters BORODOV HERE. BEST REGARDS AND GLAD YOU ARE ALIVE, flashed across Brim's COMM console.

"You'd better explain it to him, Nik," Collingswood said.

"Aye, Captain," Ursis replied. "I am ready." He touched his console. "COMM center, please send the following: 'Regards from Collingswood, Wellington, Brim, and Ursis. Ursis sends presently. Situation follows:...'" With that, he summarized their discoveries concerning the Gradgroat-Norchelite monastery, its orbital forts, and Collingswood's inability to contact Atalanta. "'Can you put us in touch with anybody at the base who might help?" he asked in conclusion.

Clearly, he had caught the older Bear flat-footed. Long moments passed before an answer passed across Brim's display. VOOT! Borodov began, then followed with a KA'PPA socket address. THESE PEOPLE WILL HELP, he concluded. DELAY TEN CYCLES BEFORE CONTACTING. I SHALL PERSONALLY TRANSMIT YOUR AUTHENTICATION.

The short interval passed like ten years. Then KA'PPA rings glimmered out from Defiant's mast. Almost immediately, a reply flashed across Brim's display. REGARDS TO

PAYLESS COLLEAGUES. ATALANTA UNDER EXTREME HEAVY ATTACK.

DISPATCHING TWO TEAMS BY SEPARATE ROUTES TO MONASTERY WITH

PORTABLE KA'PPAS. WILL CONTACT DEFIANT ON ARRIVAL. EXPECT HEAVY

BOMBARDMENT WILL HAMPER SPEED. WHERE DO YOU BERSERKERS COME UP

WTTH ASSIGNMENTS LIKE THESE?

Collingswood smiled sympathetically. "COMM room," she ordered, "you will please transmit the following: 'Idle fingers are the evil playthings of Voot-we have only your best interests at heart.'" Then she nodded. "Follow that with 'Good luck and Universe speed your steps, brave friends.'" Afterward, she looked around the bridge. "My colleagues," she said, "I believe we may just have a miracle on our hands."

Chapter 10

THE MIRACLE

Morning watch changed to Brightness watch and still no word arrived from either monastery team, although Atalanta's Intelligence Unit was in almost constant contact with Defiant's COMM room. Brim had long since turned the controls over to Aram and was relaxing at his console leading every message that came through. During that time, the savage battle for Haelic continued apace-and from eyewitness reports, it was now quite doubtful that the Imperials could hold out until Onrad arrived. Much of Atalanta city was already in flames and the Fleet Base was under almost constant attack. Anti-space batteries ringing the area were making Anak's task as difficult as possible, but inexorably these fortified emplacements were being demolished one by one. When the Evening watch began and still neither team had been heard from, Collingswood appeared on the bridge. Brim watched her slump dejectedly into her console.

"Things look bad for the monastery teams," she said after a few moments. "Neither has called Joel for three metacycles now, and from the reports, I gather that many of the city streets are little more than long ravines of fire-although the Leaguers at least seem to be ignoring the monastery. Atalanta's latest bulletin describes the air as so full of smoke and dust that visibility is no more than a quarter of a c'lenyt." She shook her head. "The Center is sending two more teams out into that inferno, and I am of a mind to stop them. I realize that the issue is of historic importance, but risk is one thing-predestined suicide is quite another."

Brim nodded as he scanned the starscape for the ten millionth time that watch, then checked his proximity indicators. All clear. He was listening for Collingswood's decision when his COMM console suddenly came alive with KA'PPA text: TEAM B REPORTING

FROM MAIN ENTRANCE G-N MONASTERY. NO ONE IN SIGHT. CAMPUS

ABANDONED. REQUEST INSTRUCTIONS TO COMPLETE MISSION. REGRET DELAY.

NECESSARY TO PROCEED ON FOOT-ALL APPROACH BRIDGES/ROADS

DESTROYED. MANY OF TEAM B WOUNDED. TEAM A APPARENTLY WIPED OUT IN

BOMBARDMENT LAST METACYCLE. MONASTERY ONLY SLIGHTLY DAMAGED. MEL

SENDS.

"One of the teams got through," Collingswood uttered excitedly. "Nik, it's your show now."

Ursis dictated a string of instructions that described and located the, gold cone, then recommended its removal by destruction of its base-in spite of the room's spectacular beauty. Incidental damage was of little consequence. He ended with a warning: "At all times," he admonished, "avoid personal contact with the high-energy beam from the ceiling.

Also, the cone should be removed by remote control if possible. Consequences of these actions are unpredictable, but suggest you find solid cover at considerable distance from the main campus before accomplishing actual removal operations. May the Lady Fate look after you and your party, Mel. Ursis sends."

Within cycles, the team began a monologue of its progress: CONE LOCATED. USING

M-87 BLAST PIKE WTTH REMOTE TRIGGER FOR REMOVAL. LADY FATE NOWHERE

ABOUT-TOO DANGEROUS DURING RAID. THANKS ANYWAY.... MEL.

"Yea gods," Wellington quipped nervously. "No wonder it took them so long to get there on foot; M-87s are big-and heavy."

"They did go prepared, though," Collingswood said in an awe-filled voice. She shook her head. "It must have been like walking through one long, continuous explosion."

M-87 IN PLACE WITH REMOTE FIRING UNIT. LEAVING NOW TO TAKE COVER. ANY

FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS? MEL.

"No farther instructions-from Ursis," the Bear dictated quietly.

The Defiants waited in silence for nearly three quarters of a metacycle before the next message arrived. From his brief experience during the bender raid-and the Carescrian attacks early in the war in which he'd lost his entire family-Brim could easily conjure the sort of vicious inferno Mel and his team had to endure: searing flame, radiation, and absolutely hellish concussion. He shook his head slowly in admiration. If he presumed they were merely office workers instead of trained soldiers, that somehow doubled-tripled-the heroic nature of their mission.

At last, a series of KA'PPA characters began to flow across his screen. TEAM B

REPORTING FROM SHELTERED LOCATION APPROXIMATELY 1.5 C'LENYTS FROM

MONASTERY. M-87 ACTIVATED APPROX. 4 CYCLES AGO-CONE REMOVAL

DEFINITE. ENERGY BEAM APPEARS TO BE MELTING LARGE HOLE THROUGH

CENTER OF FLOOR. NO VISIBLE RESULTS OUTSIDE YET. HAVE WE NEGLECTED

SOMETHING? PLEASE ADVISE, MEL SENDS.

Brim froze. Had Ursis and Wellington guessed incorrectly?

"What's wrong?" Collingswood asked in a tense voice.

Ursis hesitated a moment, his head bent in thought. "Nothing-I suspect-has gone wrong, Captain," he said presently. "The monastery is a massive structure that will provide extraordinary inertia to overcome before it finally moves." He glanced at his message display. "We should see a different sort of message in a few... Aha!"

Brim glanced into his own display just as a new KA'PPA message flashed into being.

DISREGARD LAST MESSAGE CONCERNING G-N MONASTERY. NEW

CIRCUMSTANCES APPLY: VAST CLOUDS Of SMOKE AND DEBRIS NOW RISING

AROUND BASE.

"It begins," Ursis growled. "COMM room, please dictate, to Mel; 'Request narration as long as possible-Ursis sends."

"Aye, Lieutenant," the COMM room answered. Moments later, the COMM panel began to display: RING OF FLAME ERUPTS AROUND BASE OF MONASTERY. DEEP ROLLING

THUNDER IN AIR-CAN FEEL MORE THAN HEAR. WOW! MEL SENDS.

Ursis nodded. "That," he said, "is a predictable beginning. We should receive a wealth of information soon-if our friend Mel can send rapidly enough to describe it all."

Brim watched the monitor closely. As Ursis predicted, the next message came on the very heels of the first.

ENTIRE TOP OF MONASTERY CRAG GLOWS ROD HOT LIKE CRUSTING LAVA.

CAMPUS BURNS EVERYWHERE. TOWERING SMOKE AND FLAMES COVER MAIN

BUILDING COMPLETELY. NOISE INCREDIBLE! SKY FILLED WITH CRAZED BIRDS, BLOWING LEAVES, AND DUST. OAK TREES SHAKE LIKE WILLOWS-MEL.

By now, everyone on the bridge had clearly tuned into the message socket, for the voice circuits quickly picked up with a murmur of voices and whispered exclamations.

"Lord-can you imagine that?"

"The size of that thing. Is it blowing up?"

"More like 'lifting off,' I think."

"Great Farkel's eyelash-who'd ever think the Gradygroats could..."

" Silence!" Collingswood rebuked, "all of you. This is a ship of war, not a theater."

"Aye, Captain."

"Aye, sorry."

The messages from Mel continued to arrive at short intervals: MAJOR EARTHQUAKE

BEGINS. CANNOT STAND UPRIGHT. BUILDINGS COLLAPSE WHILE LAVA FLOWS

FROM HILLTOP CRAG LIKE CANDLE WAX. COLUMN OF SMOKE AND DEBRIS TOPS

10 THOUSAND IRALS. LEAGUER SHIPS INVESTIGATE, BUT KEEP PRUDENT

DISTANCE. NOISE UNBEARABLE-MEL.

TOP OF CRAG JUST DETONATED. TREMENDOUS CONCUSSION. SUDDEN WAVE

OF HEAT HITS WITH PHYSICAL FORCE. EARTHQUAKE AND INCREDIBLE NOISE

CONTINUE. CONDITION OF MONASTERY UNKNOWN: MUST ASSUME TOTAL

DESTRUCTION-MEL.

BELAY LAST MESSAGE E@NTIRE MONASTERY RISING VERTICALLY

THROUGH(&(&^ SMOKE LIKE OLDD CHEMICAL ROCKET. LOW-FRBQ. VIBRATION

FROM EARTHQUAKE ^^%PREVENTS CONCE?NTRATION..NOISE TERRRRIBL.

+++SHELTER CAVED IN-GONE. BATTLE SUIT MEEEELTING. HEAT IS...

"COMM Room," Collingswood complained tensely, "the last message was garbled-and we didn't get all of it."

"The last message was received in a garbled condition," COMM replied, "and the last characters received were: 'Heat is." I'm afraid that's all there is."

"I see," Collingswood said over the now-quiet voice circuits. "Thank you, COMM. I was afraid of that."

Brim knew in his heart that it was the last communication from Mel. He checked his instruments idly, Aram continued at the helm. What next? Even while the KA'PPA dialogue had taken place, messages about Haelic's worsening situation continued to pour across another portion of his COMM display. He shook his head and brooded about Claudia in the middle of the perfect hell that Atalanta base must have become. If she were even alive still.

Grinding his teeth in angry frustration, he absently glanced through the Hyperscreens into the vast starscape ahead. Would there even be an Atalanta when they arrived at Hador? And if there was, whose flag would it fly? While he ruminated despondently, a new message filled his COMM panel: ALL CONTACT LOST WITH TEAM B. ONE TEAM-A SURVIVOR

LOCATED: MAY LIVE. MONASTERY LAUNCH APPARENTLY SUCCESSFUL IN ALL

RESPECTS. LOCAL TRACKING STATIONS PREDICT IMPACT ON HADOR IN 3.5

METACYCLES. LEAGUERS AVOIDING IT. CAN WE BE OF FURTHER HELP? JOEL

SENDS.

In spite of the sacrifice, Brim felt his spirits rise a little. Any chance against the Leaguers was better than none at all.

"Great thundering Universe," Wellington suddenly exclaimed through the muted uproar that had started up on the voice channel again. "Now that the thing really is on its way toward Hador, we've got to do something about contacting the Gradygroat gunners. They'll need to remove the cones in their orbital chapels before the flare begins. Otherwise..."

"I wonder if this Joel person at the Intelligence office might know," Collingswood speculated. "They're supposed to keep track of that sort of minutiae, aren't they?"

"Doesn't cost anything to ask," Wellington answered. "And I seriously doubt if their circuits are overloaded with intelligence-data requests right now."

"Nik, you'll be the one who explains it to the Gradygroats, if we get through," Collingswood asserted.

Ursis took a deep breath. "I think I am ready, Captain," he said stoically, "even for Gradygroat gunners."

"COMM," Collingswood ordered, "send this to the Intelligence people: 'Can you help us contact the Gradgroat-Norchelite orbital forts?'"

Only after considerable delay did an affirmative answer arrive. To Brim's surprise, be discovered that none of the orbital forts was equipped with KA'PPA gear-The Order no longer operated its own deep-space starships, so they communicated by ordinary LightSpeed radio link. Ultimately, the situation resulted in long and very cumbersome, two-legged communications. One leg-via KA'PPA-was between Collingswood and Joel in the Intelligence office. The other, between Joel and the Gradgroat-Norchelites, was via radio-and just setting it up required considerably more than a metacycle of careful haggling among Gradygroat Administrators. Barely two more remained before the monastery's impact when contact was finally made with the Chief Gunner of orbital fort number one.

At this point, a weary Nikolas Ursis took over again-demonstrating beyond a doubt why he had been so singularly successful as a professor at Zhiv'ot's Dityasburg Institute on Sodeskaya. When necessary, he could draw on an infinite supply of patience, and the Chief Friar required nearly a metacycle of delicate persuasion before he reluctantly agreed to

"desecrate" the chapel of his fort. "Knowledge may have its limits," the Bear observed afterward, shaking his great furry head, "but not so with ignorance."

The second fort, however, was far easier to deal with. Fortunately, Ursis had the presence of mind to enlist the first Chief Friar when he began his talks with the next. In turn, these two helped convince the Chief Friar of fort number three. By the time Ursis and his four Chief Friars completed negotiations with fort number five, the Gradygroats decided-in the interests of a highly volatile time frame-to contact the remainder of the forts themselves.

Following that, no more was heard from the Friars for nearly three-quarters of a metacycle-at least according to Brim's timepiece. By his own reckoning, he had personally watched every click and cycle that passed. Slowly....

At last, however, the critical message arrived-scant cycles before the monastery's calculated plunge into Hador: GRADYGROATS F-I-N-A-L-L-Y REPORT All ORBITAL

FORTS READY TO FIRE WHEN POWER AVAILABLE. LITTLE WONDER THE

XAXTDAMNED POOLS FORGOT HOW TO WORK THEIR RIDICULOUS CANNON! JOEL

SENDS.

At approximately Morning:3:50 on Defiant's ninth day oat from Atalanta, the colossal Gradgroat-Norchelite monastery-more than 1700 irals long with an estimated weight of three hundred ninety thousand millstons-impacted the star Hador at a velocity of nearly 0.46

LightSpeed. In the last nanoclicks of its existence, the whole prodigious energy charge of its Kaptnor G-seed was released in a single, monumental explosion. On the instant, a gigantic prominence of pure, glowing energy looped violently upward from the star's surface in a writhing fabric of crimson and yellow brilliance that extended merely half a million c'lenyts out into space-toward Haelic and its waiting orbital forts. The rolling waves of particles it released began to wash over the orbital forts a little more than a metacycle later, and at Brightness:0:26 the Norchelite space cannon spoke for the first time in nearly a millennium....

GREAT GODS OF PELLETIER! Joel reported in a long message from Atalanta, THE

GRADYGROATS ARE FIRING EVEN AS I TRANSMIT. FLASHES BURN THROUGH THE

PALL OF DRIFTING SMOKE LIKE GREAT WHITE FLARES. AMAZING! ONE HOPES

THE CRAZY FRIARS DO SOME GOOD AFTER ALL THIS. BY THE BYE, A RESCUE

PARTY HAS LOCATED TEAM A ABOUT 1.3 C'LENYTS FROM THE RUINED

MONASTERY GROUNDS. ALL DEAD-JOEL SENDS.

Brim shook his head silently. With Defiant running on autohelm, his mind quickly reverted to thoughts of Claudia. Was she still alive? Dead? Worse-was she injured somewhere beyond the reach of rescuers? He shuddered, powerless to satisfy any of his anxieties-or forget them.

Not long afterward, reports began to arrive concerning an abrupt swing in the tide of battle. Even a near miss by one of the Gradygroat cannon was enough to severely cripple a battle ship-and after literal centuries perfecting their tactics, the Gradygroat gunners were superlative. Within a metacycle, the Leaguers found themselves falling back to regroup, and for the first time in two days. Brim began to receive bulletins describing Atalanta's sides as CLEAR OF ENEMY STARSHIPS.

During the next half-day, Kabul Anak sacrificed a major portion of his fleet in a vain attempt to overpower the Gradygroat forts. He ordered ship after ship-then squadron after squadron-against the deadly gunners and their prodigious space cannon. All forms of attack failed-even benders. The network of space forts was virtually impregnable. Attempts to saturate any single node invited instant devastation from at least three others-and the Leaguers had lost far too many of their powerful ships to even hope that they might saturate as many as four.

During the Evening watch-precisely at Evening: 1:21-the van of Prince Onrad's onrushing Task Force 16 encountered the first of Anak's disorganized squadrons, disabling two battleships, Posen and Ikat, while destroying the last of Anak's light cruisers. By Evening:2:0, the two fleets were joined in pitched battle, but this time, Anak fought at considerable disadvantage. His starships had been in ceaseless mayhem for nearly three days while Onrad's were relatively fresh after their headlong-and unopposed-dash across space. Soon, reports began to arrive in Defiant's COMM room regarding destruction of the League battleships Parang, Padom-Ta, and Debusin- all to the powerful disruptors of Erat Plutron's fast battleships. Then Indang fell to the superior firepower of Vice Admiral (the Hon.) Jacob Sturdee's old Conqueror. Kabul Anak found himself temporarily out of the battle when his great Rengas was crippled by three direct torpedo strikes in her steering units. He transferred his flag by destroyer to the smaller battleship Mondor, but his messages of command dwindled sharply after the incident-Collingswood guessed that the Leaguer Admiral was either gravely wounded or perhaps dead. Clearly, he was no longer in effective command, for the overall performance of the League Fleet rapidly deteriorated from that juncture.

The carnage continued through the Night watch with many more of the League's greatest ships destroyed or sufficiently damaged to put them out of action permanently. Then, toward morning, a second major change in the battle became apparent-as if the enemy ships had given up and were now maneuvering primarily for the purpose of safety. At the beginning of the Morning watch, every Leaguer ship suddenly-and simultaneously-broke off action and headed back at high speed across the galaxy toward Tarrott, each on a different trajectory.

Before the victorious Imperials could regroup for a chase, Onrad wisely broadcast orders terminating all efforts to chase the fleeing Leaguers. OUR MISSION HAS BEEN

ACCOMPLISHED BEYOND OUR WILDEST DREAMS, IMPERIALS, he Ka'PPAed. PAST

THIS POINT, COURAGE BECOMES FOLLY. DO NOT PURSUE THESE LEAGUERS ANY

FARTHER!...

The battle for Haelic was over.

Two mornings later, Hador had grown to a huge-still lopsided-ball off to starboard and Haelic's disk now filled Defiant's forward Hyperscreens as Brim set up the ship for landing-a difficult task with as much drifting wreckage as presently fouled the orbits above the planet. It was no time to be careless with approach procedures.

For the last nine watches or so, the message channels had carried little else but congratulatory messages for Wellington and Ursis from all over the empire-including long, personal notes from Greyffin IV himself. It was clear that the two Blue Cape officers had become heroes of the day-perhaps the century-for their discoveries leading to activation of the Gradygroat space cannon.

Shortly after the cruiser slowed through approach velocity, a grinning Calhoun leaned over Brim's recliner. "We're aboot to pick up an escort soon, laddie," he said with a smile. "I thought I'd let you know so it wouldn't be so much of a surprise."

Brim arced an eyebrow.

Calhoun chuckled. "Wellington and Ursis have been elevated to the status of gods ahead on Haelic," be said. "The two of them did sort of save the Empire, when you get right down to it. At any rate, the Admiralty's thrown open a big part of the base at Atalanta to the public, and it sounds to me as if most of the city is already there waiting for Defiant to land-or more correctly, waiting for our two colleagues. So they've laid on an honor guard to escort us down. I think you'll see some interesting ships when they arrive." He clapped Brim on the shoulder and was off, back through the bridge toward the companionway.

Brim shrugged. What did all that mean? He queried Haelic's Planetary Center and got the weather report for Atalanta-marginal: a light breeze off the bay, smoke and haze to ten thousand feet, and limited visibility. Then, following checkin for a landing at the base, he had just started his descent to a synchronous marker buoy when Waldo suddenly reached across the consoles and touched his forearm.

"Wilf," she said, pointing through the Hyperscreens, "I dunk I've spotted our honor guard-Universe!"

Brim followed her finger, then made a rapid intake of air. Ahead and slightly to nadir-silhouetted in stark relief against the bright surface of the planet-were two pairs of stately capital ships, in perfect finger-four formation and on the same general bearing as Defiant. The mammoth vessels looked as if they were practicing for an old-fashioned Fleet review around Avalon. Brim's present rate of descent would soon carry him forward of the lead ship in the center formation.

"Fleet CL.921, here, Haelic Center," he said, "descending through approach level two two three zero at two nine zero zero velocity; heading zero one zero spinward. Present vector will intersect with four large warships that appear to be-" he squinted into the distance"-the four Queens," he reported a little breathlessly. "Please advise."

"Planetary Control here," a voice drawled in a strong Vogordion accent. "Maintain present flight parameters and contact Queen Elidean, on two one nine five five."

Frowning, Brim shrugged to Waldo-who shrugged back and scratched her head.

"Maintaining present flight parameters. Will contact Queen Elidean, two one nine five five."

He paused and brought the Queen's identifier to his display while the Chairman changed frequencies. "CL.921 to BB.119: descending through approach level two two one five at two nine zero zero velocity; heading zero one zero spinward. Have been advised to maintain flight parametars that will intersect close ahead of your bow."

"CL.921," a soft female voice aboard Queen Elidean answered presently, "those orders are correct." As she spoke, the second pair of battleships moved abreast of the first two, forming a chevron with its center missing. "Admiral Plutron requests you bring Defiant into point position. We note that you have significant damage to your starboard underpan. Does that pose any particular problems?"

"BB.119," Brim responded, "all control systems appear to be intact-we have checked as closely as possible. No problems anticipated. Will appreciate notification if you see anything when we pass."

"CL.921: Will notify," the voice of the Queen promised. "When you are in position, continue normal landing procedures. The tower will vector you over the city, into a shallow turn to port around City Mount Hill, and then a long, straight-in final approach. We will follow."

"CL.921," Brim responded, "we thank you, Queen." Then he swung around in his seat to Calhoun, who had just seated himself at his console. "Voot's been busy again," he said, shaking his head.

"Bastard never steeps." Calhoun chuckled, his face green with reflected light while he adjusted a display.

"You'd better get the people in their seats early," Brim warned. "We really don't know what she'll be like without E turret under the starboard belly pan."

"Good idea, laddie," the elder Carescrian agreed, taking his silver whistle from his breast pocket.

Scant cycles afterward-with alarms ringing in his ears-Brim sent Defiant charging between the two pairs of immense battleships: collections of massive armored casemates, fearful disruptors, stacked bridges, and lofty KA'PPA towers. "Half speed, all generators, Nik," he ordered, "it looks a little close from here."

"Half speed," Ursis acknowledged.

It was a ticklish time for Brim: too little speed and he'd make an utter fool of himself-the Fleet placed a high value on risk-taking. Too fast, however, and he ran the chance of collision-plus a ruinous court-martial. He grinned. If he could come alongside a transfer ship in a Carescrian ore barge at 0.87 LightSpeed-often during severe gravity disturbances in areas full of space holes-then he presently had little to worry about.

All four battleships had clearly been involved in serious action. Their disruptors were mottled from the terrific heat of repeated firing, and extensive areas of radiation burn discolored their dented and patched hulls. Ganriel was minus her entire C turret while Queen Elidean's bridge had lost all its Hyperscreens. Nevertheless, the fierce-looking ships were clearly operational: every bit as dangerous as they looked. Brim felt his chest swell as he pulled into position and continued his original descent. He was part of their fleet, too-and proud of it.

As they drew near Atalanta, the atmosphere became charged with ragged layers of thick smoke and haze at many different levels-like some fantastic system of floating islands, Brim thought. By the time they reached approach altitude, Hador was lost in a thick overcast above, and the remaining Universe had turned to a uniform gray.

"Fleet CL.921," the tower commanded, "turn port around City Mount Hill to heading zero five three and reduce speed one nine zero."

"Fleet CL.921 turning City Mount to zero five three at one nine zero," Brim repeated.

Behind him, the four massive battleships followed his gentle turn in perfect formation-completely unperturbed by any crosswinds. Bow on, they presented squared-off silhouettes with pairs of super-firing turrets centered on each of four surfaces and the top deck surmounted by a frowning bridge and KA'PPA tower.

Below on the ground, damage to Atalanta begged description. The great Norchelite crag atop City Mount Hill was now a shallow crater lined with obsidian glass that had dribbled and crystallized along the outside like an overfilled bowl. Brim shook his bead sadly as the Gradgroat-Norchelite words echoed in his mind: "In destruction is resurrection..."

Resurrection from this kind of destruction was going to take a long, long time.

Downhill from this area of total destruction, the once-beautiful city was now a patchwork of burned-out, cratered deserts amid portions that appeared to be relatively untouched-although Brim was hard-pressed to locate any section of town that had been spared at least some devastation. Great fires still burned in many places, sending towering columns of sooty smoke into the sky. He shuddered. The landscape was literally strewn with wrecks. One monstrous hulk-probably a battleship from the size of its burned-out skeleton-had crashed into a neighborhood of large estates taking at least a thousand dwellings in its final detonation. Another starship-this one clearly a Gorn-Hoff cruiser-perched almost vertically in the center of the city's huge J.C. West Memorial Coliseum. Still another had attempted a crash landing along a wide avenue, replacing the pavement by a deep trench that continued nearly a c'lenyt to a huge depression ringed by an area in which no one stone appeared to remain upon another. He took a deep breath and tried to purge Claudia's lovely face from his mind's eye. How anyone could have survived such a searing, radiating holocaust...

At last on her assigned heading of one two five, Defiant started out over the austral end of the base toward the bay. Destruction appeared to be even worse here-if that was possible. The great seawall had been breached in a dozen places, and much of the gravity-pool area lay beneath the waters of the bay. Masts and half-submerged hulls rose from the shallows like beached sea monsters from some child's story, although the flooding had at least extinguished the tremendous fires that must have started from the wrecked ships.

"Fleet CL.921 is five c'lenyts from the outer marker," the tower reported. "Turn port heading zero zero five-localizer is at or above one thousand five hundred; you are cleared for landing vector three seven one."

"CL.921 turning zero zero five to localizer at fifteen hundred, cleared for vector three seven one-thank you, ma'am," Brim answered. The battleships were keeping formation behind him as if they were attached to Defiant's stern by cables.

Little more man a cycle later, Waldo reported capture of the localizer and glideslope beams. Then Brim began his final letdown. Far ahead and to port, two long piers jutted out into the bay from the mouth of the Grand Canal. He frowned. He didn't remember anything like those when he'd taken off-and they certainly hadn't been constructed during the battle!

He squinted as he peered into the distance-they were two lines of starships! Then, he was at the outer marker beacon, and there was little time to consider anything but the helm until Defiant was down and taxiing on her gravity gradient.

"CL.921: use port taxiway channel three one and proceed directly to escort at Grand Canal entrance," the tower instructed.

Another escort? Clearly, Brim considered, this was serious business! "CL.921 to port three one and Grand canal escort," he repeated, swiveling in his recliner to check the battleships-they had stopped.

Behind him, Collingswood ordered Wellington and Ursis to the main hatch. "You may want to freshen up a bit on the way," she cautioned. "I think you are both in for a hero's welcome you won't soon forget."

"Go to it, Dora," Brim whispered as Wellington slipped out of her recliner.

"I think I'd rather face Triannic's whole fleet," the weapons expert replied with a grimace,

"except I guess there's not much of it left, now, is there?"

Brim kissed his clustered fingertips when Ursis glanced his way.

The Bear raised his eyes to the heavens. As a rule, he avoided large gatherings-and from the descriptions of the one waiting to start in Atalanta, "large" was not an adequate term.

Brim turned off the landing vector between two orange buoys painted with the numerals

"31," then lined up on a progression of similar markers that extended... He could scarcely believe his eyes. Channel 31 led directly into the mouth of the base's main canal, between the two long lines of starships he had seen from the air-all visibly survivors of the battle for Hador-Haelic.

As Defiant passed with her great banner snapping in the wind, the decks of each warship were packed with wildly cheering Blue Capes-many of whom were clearly wounded.

Brim had never seen such a collection in his life. Destroyers, cruisers, battlecruisers, battleships-every fighting vessel that had managed to return from the conflict. Many were grievously damaged-missing whole turrets and sections of their superstructures. Others seemed hardly touched by the battle except for their mottled disruptors. But no matter now grim the damage, their crews were on deck to cheer for Wellington and Ursis-and some to weep.

When they came to the mourn of the canal, the ancient stone seawalls on both sides were similarly crowded by literally thousands of civilians who cheered and waved wildly when the cruiser passed. Many ended up falling into the water. Brim found himself wondering about Claudia for the millionth time that morning while docking parties wearing huge protective mittens spread out over Defiant's decks uncovering optical cleats and opening hatches where additional mooring gear was stowed. He'd soon know if his beautiful Atalantian friend had survived the battle for her beloved city-or if she had not....

Defiant's assigned gravity pool was in a special compound adjacent to the headquarters complex. He'd suspected they'd use it when he first saw the waiting throngs. Otherwise, Wellington and Ursis faced the eminently real peril of being trampled by the very people who had come to cheer them. While he eased the cruiser through a set of canal gates and onto the pool, he could see a great expanse of faces and waving arms outside the compound's stout fence. He scanned the nearer crowd of dignitaries-all holding their ears against the noise-as he braked the starship to a final halt in a cloud of dust and blowing soot. No sign of Claudia. But then, she wasn't all that tall, he remembered-she'd easily been swallowed by the crowd when he'd met her train. "Finished with generators." He called to Gamble at the systems console.

"Aye, Lieutenant Brim," Gamble answered, "finished with generators." He passed his hands over a sequence of tiny colored lights on his overhead panel and the rumble of the generators immediately abated-to the clear relief of the welcoming committee. As a brow extended from the lip of the pool to connect with Defiant's main hatch, the throng pushed immediately to the entrance-except for the diminutive figure of a woman with long, brown hair who remained in place and continued to wave toward the bridge.

Brim's spirit soared like a rocket. Claudia! And not a single bandage. He waved back through the Hyperscreens, and she blew him a kiss. He felt his heart thumping in his chest as the wind lifted her skirts. Universe! She was beautiful even at a distance. Then the changeover from local gravity-and his extreme nausea-brought him back to reality as if he'd been smacked by a brick.

In due time, he watched Wellington and Ursis make their way across the brow while he powered off Defiant's flight systems. The two Blue Capes were met at the landward end by Prince Onrad, Lord Beorn Wyrood, a still-limping Admiral Penda, and whole collections of officers whose least rank still read "Admiral." Then, while the high-echelon assemblage crowded into a veritable parade of limousine skimmers, he secured his helm and prepared to exit the bridge. Before he could leave his console, however, Claudia was at his side with a concerned look on her face.

After they shared a long kiss, she drew back for a moment and looked him directly in the eye. "Someone in the base infirmary was calling your name when they brought her in," she said, "the lone survivor of the monastery teams. She's one brave lady, Wilf."

"Calling my name?"

"Are there other Wilf Brims around here?" Claudia asked with a little laugh. "I certainly haven't met them."

Brim frowned. "Must be somebody I met during Payless," he conjectured. "I don't know many people in the Intelligence office here."

Claudia smiled gently. "Her name's LaKarn, Wilf- Princess Margot Effer'wyck-LaKarn. I don't think she wants anybody to know who she really is, but I recognized her face as soon as they cleaned her up. Her wedding was broadcast not so long ago." She tilted her head slightly and smiled a little sadly. "I have the feeling that maybe you two were, shall we say,

'good friends' at one time." She closed her eyes for a moment. "She's beautiful, Wilf." She said. "No wonder you..."

Wilf took her hands-somehow it all made a sort of preposterous sense. "Can you take me to her?" he asked.

"That's why I'm here," Claudia said, placing a kiss on his cheek. "What are friends for, after all?"

Inside the crowded infirmary, Claudia led Brim through a maze of antiseptic-drenched halls to a rare private room in a small wing. She stopped at the door and took his arm. "Yon won't need me in there," she said.

Brim looked into her eyes for a long moment. "How can I thank you?" he asked.

Claudia smiled with her eyes. "I'll find a way," she said quietly. Then she kissed him and started down the corridor. "We'll talk about it sooner than you think," she called over her shoulder. Then she was gone.

Brim took a deep breath of too-clean air and walked hesitantly into the tiny room. The healing machine's hatch was open and... his heart suddenly pounded all out of control. There could be no mistaking that gorgeous face-even though much of her lovely body was shrouded by the healing machine's amoebalike apparatus and her hair was covered by a softly glowing cloth.

As he stood over the open hatch, her eyes opened and blinked sleepily. "Wilf..." she whispered as her face broke into a smile.

"What in the name of Voot are you doing here?" he asked, reaching gently into the machine to touch her cheek. "I thought you were back on Avalon...."

She hesitated a moment as if testing her capacity to speak. "I had to share this time of danger with you, Wilf," she whispered. "Otherwise, I could never look you in the eye."

Half blinded by tears, Brim leaned into the chamber and they kissed-for a long, long time....

"But who brought you here?' he asked when his heart returned to something approximating normal.

Margot's eyes twinkled for a moment, and she giggled weakly. "Cousin Onrad smuggled me here on Resolve," she explained. "He needed a bit of persuasion, of course-but under all that bluster, he's rather a darling pussycat. And it wasn't as if I couldn't find plenty to do when I arrived."

Brim shook his head. "Like trying to launch a monastery," he said with a feeling of awe,

"in the middle of the most devastating bombardment ever-anywhere."

She smiled and frowned. "I suppose it was sort of a chancy thing to do," she said quietly, gazing around at the edges of the healing machine. "But then, I didn't make it anyway...."

"Success is no measure of heroism," Brim quoted from a nearly forgotten textbook.

She smiled. "If it makes me a hero to you, I shall be well satisfied, Wilf. Otherwise, no one must know I have even been here."

"B-but..."

Margot giggled again. "Greyffin and Rogan both think I am home-in Effer-'indisposed,'"

she said with a grin. "Won't they have a fit when they learn I'm not preggers."

"That's what you told them?"

"Best excuse I could think of," Margot declared with a little blush, "Lately, Rogan's been doing everything he can to produce that heir Greyffin wants so badly."

"I, ah, see..." Brim said. All of a sudden, it was a lot easier to think about Claudia. "Why didn't you get in touch with me?" he asked.

"Well," she said, looking up into his eyes, "after you sent my ring back, I didn't really know if you'd talk to me. And you hadn't answered your mail since the party...."

Brim thought for a moment-took a deep breath-and then related his conversation with LaKarn beside the gravity pool. "Rogan claimed he could love you," he said in conclusion.

"And after what I put you through that night, it just seemed to be the best thing I could do for your life."

Margot smiled and shook her head sadly. "I am far too much in love with you, Wilf," she said, "for that to make any sense. And I can't hide it from Rogan, try as I might. He quickly tired of the game and went back to his other loves. It's better all the way around...." Then she peered into his face and frowned. "You do still love me, don't you?" she asked.

"I never stopped loving you," Brim answered, "not for one moment."

Margot closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered quietly, '"Life might change, but it may fly not; Hope might vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;/ Love repulsed-but it returneth!'"

After that, they simply gazed into each other's eyes.

Eventually, a medical officer entered the room, nodded absently, then studied the readouts at the foot of Marget's machine. The small, heavyset woman-a Captain-had a round face, a button nose, and thin, serious lips. She was clearly suffering from considerable fatigue, but she was smartly dressed in a fresh uniform with shined boots. A professional if Brim had ever seen one. When she peered into the healing machine she seemed to brighten. "You are much improved this watch, Your Highness," she said, "and you look it."

She laughed grimly. "For a while there, you had us worried." Then she looked up. "I assume you are Wilf Brim, Lieutenant?"

"A-aye, Captain," Brim stammered in surprise.

"Prince Onrad left orders to expect you-he said you would know the Princess's true identity. Evidently, he spoke to a friend of yours from the base here. I mink he said her name was 'Claudia'...."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Brim asserted-nothing else seemed appropriate.

"Well," the medical officer continued, "at this juncture, it appears that the Princess will probably recover completely-after a great deal of rest." She pronounced the last few words looking emphatically down into Margot's face. "Prince Onrad has ordered her aboard Resolve within the next metacycle for the journey to Avalon," she continued to Brim. Then she smiled. "He said that I should expect you to accompany her to the ship's sick bay."

Brim nodded. "Probably that would be easier than trying to talk me out of it, Captain," he said.

Aboard Resolve, Brim found a message from Collingswood, summoning him to her cabin, "...when you get back to Defiant." He chuckled ironically to himself. Everyone seemed to know where he was.

Later, the irony returned to haunt him when his conversation with Margot was once more interrupted-this time by a much too familiar voice.

"Thought I might find you here, Brim," LaKarn snorted irritably from the doorway, "with my wayward wife." He strode to the opposite side of the healing machine and glared inside.

"Indisposed, eh, my blond beauty?" he demanded sarcastically. "Well, you may not be pregnant, but you've certainly got yourself indisposed this time-and you damn well deserve it!" He glared over at Brim. "Had you even the hint of a brain, Carescrian, you'd understand how xaxtdamned lucky you were that you didn't get to marry this one. She is magnificent in bed, as you well know," he grumbled, "but I think she has a secret death wish." He peered angrily back into the chamber. "It's that damned Onrad who brought you here. You've got the man wrapped around your little finger. The meddling hab'thall." He spit angrily into her face.

At that, Brim lost control. "For Voot's sake, LaKarn," he said, blindly starting around the end of the chamber, "let her alone. Can't you see what kind of shape she's in?" He grabbed the Baron by his lapels and shook him tike a terrier with a rat. "You quivering gratz hen," he thundered to his suddenly-and thoroughly-terrified rival, "if you weren't her husband, I'd cave in your ugly face!"

At that moment, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Reflexively, he smashed LaKarn against the wall, then instantly whirled at his new opponent from a crouch-only stopping himself from further mayhem when he saw who it was. "Your Highness," he gasped, looking up into the face of Prince Onrad.

"Let me take care of this, Wilf," the prince growled calmly, shutting the door and striding to where LaKarn slumped against the wall, face crimson with fright and anger. "All right, Baron," he said, "if you have something to say about me, then say it to my face."

Instantly, LaKarn lashed out at Onrad with a stream of invective so foul that it would do justice to a Varnadoan goal. Onrad parried with the words of a gentleman, and soon the two nobles were so completely absorbed that Margot and Brim were nearly forgotten. And, to the tatter's astonishment, it rapidly became clear that LaKarn was not a strong ally of the Empire by any means. In fact, if anything, it sounded as if the whole Torond officer class might be sympathetic to the cause of Nergol Triannic-against the wishes of their elderly Grand Duchess Honorotha, LaKarn's mother. After a few heated cycles, Onrad suddenly turned from his assailant to frown at Brim and then at the healing machine. He pursed his tips. "You two have more important things to do than listen to this drivel," he said. With that, be opened the door and glared at LaKarn. "Come on, black shirt," he growled, "we can continue this elsewhere."

Wrapping the ebony cloak around him, LaKarn stormed past Brim and stopped at the healing machine. "We shall continue this another time, my beauty," he growled, "have no fear about that." Abruptly he laughed. "Pity you'll have to keep those gorgeous legs together for your friend Brim this time," he added, "because once I get you home, I shall keep then spread until you produce." He looked triumphantly at Brim. "And you, Carescrian, can dream about that-every lonely night!" With those words, he strode through the door with Onrad close on his heels.

Suddenly, the only sounds in the room were the quiet burbling hum of Margot's healing machine and the all-pervading rumble of the battleship's generators. Brim looked tenderly into Margot's tear-streaked face. "Can you leave him?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "Before any of my own wishes or my happiness comes my duty to the Empire-this marriage keeps Rogan and his resources on Greyffin's side.

Otherwise-well, I think you got the gist of their argument."

Brim nodded, fighting back tears of emotion. Perhaps, he thought for a moment, this was really why be loved her so deeply. "We'll work it out," he said presently. Somehow, he would make that happen....

"This Claudia the doctor mentioned," Margot began with a little smile. "During my delirium, I remember vivid flashes of a most exquisite woman with long brown hair. Does that sound like her?"

"Yes," Brim answered softly. "A lot like her."

"Come closer," Margot said.

He bent into the healing machine until his face nearly touched hers.

"Is she good in bed, Wilf?" Margot whispered. 1

Brim swallowed, "Yes," he answered softly. "She is."

Margot closed her eyes. "Thank the Universe," she breathed. "Then our love may yet survive."

Suddenly, alarms rang in the corridor. "All hands to stations for liftoff! All hands to stations for liftoff!..." A knock on the door produced a voice. "Lieutenant Brim, time to go. Prince Onrad has laid on a staff skimmer for your use outside the main brow."

"Thanks," Brim called without opening it. Then he thrust his head inside the healing machine again, this time to share a long good-bye kiss. When they finished, both were a little breathless.

"Would you like my ring back?" she asked as he continued to cradle her cheek in his hand.

"I would gladly kill for that ring," he swore in surprise.

"You'll find it in the compartment at the head of the machine," Margot said, pointing with her eyes. "The medic said it was the only thing I had with me that didn't burn."

Brim shuddered while he reached into the little personal-effects compartment. Its only contents were a small, charred box. Inside were the ring and the carbonized remains of her handkerchief. "I shall never part with these again-so long as I live," he promised, fighting back tears that suddenly welled up in his eyes. Then the five-cycle alarm clattered outside the door. He pressed his lips to hers one more time, then ran for the battleship's main hatch.

He just made it.

Mighty thunder from Resolve's departure still echoed through the heavens when Brim stepped from the staff skimmer at Defiant's gravity pool. He immediately harried to Collingswood's cabin and knocked.

"Come in and take a seat for a moment," Collingswood called over the music wafting through her half-open door.

When Brim entered, she was at a work station in her usual place. This time, however, the oak desk was nearly bare, and she was dressed in her formal uniform. Moreover, as he took his seat, he noticed that the cabin was completely upset, with lockers empty and shelves bare. Off to one side of the room, Grimsby was busily packing space trunks.

Looking up from his work, the elderly steward winked at Brim, smiled mysteriously, then shuffled out of the cabin and closed the door.

With growing concern, Brim waited for Collingswood to speak. Suddenly, his eye caught a new captain's insignia on the left collar of her tunic. He grinned. "Congratulations, Captain, er... Captain," be stammered happily. "Looks like Grimsby's packing you for a celebration leave."

Collingswood looked up from her work station and smiled tiredly. "Thank you, Wilf," she said with a wistful took, "but I'm afraid it's not leave I'm packing for."

Brim frowned and started to speak, but Collingswood held up her hand. "A moment, Wilf," she said. "I shall go into all that soon enough. First, let me talk about you." With that, she handed him a small box she had placed on the comer of her desk. "Congratulations yourself, First Lieutenant Brim," she said as he gingerly lifted the lid. Inside was a set of insignia. "Unfortunately, they're brand new," she said. "I've given all my old ones away through the years. But this time at least, I get to make the presentation myself instead of KA'PPAing someone else to do it for me, as I was forced to do for your last promotion." She reached across the desk to shake his hand.

Brim was nearly speechless. "T-thank you, Captain," he stuttered. "I'm honored."

"It's not the only news I have for you, I'm afraid," she said, resuming her perch at the work station.

Brim braced himself-somehow, he had a feeling he'd already used up the month's good-news quota. White he watched, vivid colors began to cascade over her screen, then stopped. She frowned for a moment, nodded, then slowly and deliberately removed her glasses and cleaned them with a lacy, handkerchief. "I suppose I also ought to let you know,"

she said at length, "that you are being pushed out of the nest, so to speak."

Brim frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Captain?"

Collingswood lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It was a difficult decision for me, Wilf," she said, "but I could no longer in good conscience keep you under my thumb. You are therefore to report in the capacity of First Lieutenant to I.F.S. Thunderbolt, just completing a major rework at Gimmas Haefdon, You'll do well with her captain, Vern Engerstrom," she said, "and it's clear that you're ready for that sort of job-Number One."

Number One! Brim felt his heart begin to pound-for the thousandth time that day, it seemed. "But Captain..." he protested.

"No 'buts,' Wilf," Collingswood said firmly. "You've served Defiant well-and everyone concerned with her-but you can't be only a Helmsman all your life. You need to move on now and continue to grow. You leave for Gimmas tomorrow afternoon on S.S. Kersearge- while I embark next week for Avalon. You see, Wilf, I have a new job too-in the Admiralty."

Brim shook his head in utter shock. "B-but who can possibly take your place running Defiant?" he asked.

"The first Carescrian Captain in His Majesty's most Imperial Fleet, that's who,"

Collingswood answered with a smile. "A friend of yours named Calhoun-I thought you might approve. And he'll have Aram to help him out."

Brim grinned. "I approve," he said quietly.

With glistening eyes, Collingswood got to her feet and moved from behind the desk with her arms open. "I shall miss you, Wilf," she said hugging him tightly. Then, abruptly, she glanced at her timepiece and dismissed him with military brusqueness. "That will be all.

Lieutenant," she said crisply. "Your orders are in your message folder."

He bowed. "Thank you. Captain," he said, then turned and made for the door.

"Do well," Collingswood called after him. "Our paths will cross often, so I shall check on your progress with some frequency."

"Aye, Captain," Brim promised, still a little in shock, "I shall do my best."

On his way along the companionway, he met Admiral Plutron headed in the opposite direction. "Good evening, Admiral," he said. Plutron had put on a few pounds since their last encounter long ago on Gimmas Haefdon.

"Good evening. Lieutenant Brim," the gray-haired officer answered. "My congratulations on your promotion."

"Thank you, Admiral," Brim said as they passed, carefully smothering the smile that threatened to form on his face. Old Plutron was carrying two huge bottles of Logish Meem.

Clearly, he was heading for Collingswood's cabin and the demonstration she promised him days ago in space....

Sounds of reveling Bears drifted up from the wardroom on the next deck below as Brim reached his own cabin: "...To ice, to snow, to S-o-d-e-s-k-a-y-a we go! To ice, to snow, to S-o-d-e-s-k-a-y-a we go!..."

He grinned in anticipation. He planned to join that party as soon as he could freshen up-he had a great deal to celebrate himself.... He was rinsing his face when he heard a polite knock. Grabbing a towel, he opened the door. It was barbousse.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Brim," the big rating blurted out, hat in his hand. "I... um... heard about your new ship, Lieutenant," he said. "I want you to know that I already tried to get a transfer to her, but this time, they turned me down flat."

"Come in," Brim said, opening the door wider. "Sit down and tell me about it."

"Oh, I can't stay, Lieutenant," Barbousse said, handing Brim a small blue envelope. "I just dropped by to give you this message. But I wanted to make sure you knew that I tried to be with you on that new ship of yours."

"I'm honored that you even thought about it," Brim said. "But why do you suppose they turned you down?"

Barbousse shrugged. "Well, sir, Captain Collingswood's got me signed up for this new officers' school, an' I can't seem to get out of it."

"Officers' school?" Brim asked with excitement. "That's wonderful! Which one?"

"The Helmsman's Academy," Barbousse said, his face reddening. "I don't suppose I'll ever be a Wilf Brim or anything, but I'd sure be proud to serve in the right seat with you someday, Lieutenant."

Brim shook his head-nearly speechless with emotion. Then he put both hands on the man's broad shoulders. "You'll be a great helmsman, Utrillo," he said. "And I shall be proud to serve with you- always!"

Before Barbousse took his leave, he pointed to the blue envelope. "I suppose you'll want to be readin' that soon as you can," he suggested, "beggin the Lieutenant's pardon. Urn... it's from Miss Valemont. She left it with me about half a metacycle ago."

Eagerly, Brim tore open the light plastic envelope and extracted a letter in beautifully inked, old-fashioned script:

My windows here are all boarded up, friend-but the kitchen is still intact, and a victory celebration supper is on the stove. I shall fetch you at the start of the Evening watch, First Lieutenant Wilf Ansor Brim. -regrets only, Claudia.

A metacycle later, Brim watched the lights of a battered little skimmer bear down the road toward the end of the brow. He'd made his apologies to the Bears in the wardroom, and they appeared to understand. Some opportunities were simply too good to miss!

He shrugged. If his previous assignment to a T-class destroyer were any indication, this was likely to be the last peaceful evening he would spend for quite a long time-especially with the challenges he knew he would face as First Lieutenant. He smiled while he shifted the bottles of Logish Meem under his arm. Nobody he might encounter on the frozen planet of Gimmas Haefdon was likely to be anything like Claudia Valemont-and he meant to make the most of this last evening with her. For a while....

Table of Contents

Chapter 2, **PREPARATION**

Chapter 3, *CONVOY DUTY**

Chapter 4, **ATALANTA**

Chapter 5, **THE BENDER **

Chapter 6, **THE D-SHIP**

Chapter 7, **I.F.S. PRIZE**

Chapter 8, **ANTIQUARIES**

Chapter 9, **LEGACY**

Chapter 10, **THE MIRACLE**