Maverick

Prologue. Aranimas

He sat before the horseshoe-shaped control console, like a hungry spider sitting in the middle of its web. Taut, alert, watching and waiting with an almost feral intensity; nearly immobile, except for his eyes.

The eyes: Two black, glittering beads set in bulging turrets of wrinkled skin on opposite sides of his large, hairless head. The eyes moved independently in quick, lizard-like jerks, darting across the massed video displays and instrument readouts, taking it all in.

Watching.

One eye locked in on the image of a small, starfish-like creature. His other eye tracked across and joined it as the video display split-screened to show the starfish on one side and the inky black of space on the other. A small ice asteroid drifted into view, and a pair of ominous-looking rails smoothly rose to track it.

He moved. An arm so gaunt and elongated, with carpal bones so long it gave the appearance of having two elbows, more unfolded than reached out to touch a small stud beneath the image of the starfish.

The grim, lipless mouth opened; the voice was high and reedy. “Denofah. Praxil mastica. ” The rails flared brightly. An instant later the asteroid was gone, replaced by a swiftly dissipating cloud of incandescent gas.

The mouth twitched slightly at the corners, in an expression that may have been a grim smile. He pressed the stud again. “Rijat. ” The screen showing the starfish and the weapon went blank.

An indicator light at the far right end of the console began blinking. Swiveling one eye to the screen just above the indicator, he reached across and pressed another stud. The image that appeared was that of a younger member of his own species.

“Forrgive the intrrusion, Masterr,” the young one said in heavily accented Galactic, with a piping trill on the “r” sounds. “But your orrders were to reporrt any K-band interferrence instantly. ”

Both eyes locked on the image, and he swiveled his chair around so that he was facing the viewscreen. “Did it match the patterrn? Were you able to get a dirrectional fix?”

“Master Aranimas, it still matches the patterrn. Rrobots using hyperspace keys to teleport; there must be thousands of them. We have both a directional fix and an estimated distance. ”

“Excellent! Give me the coordinates; I’ll relay them to the navigator. ” While the young one was reading off the numbers, Aranimas swiveled his left eye onto another screen and pressed another stud. “Helm! Prepare for hyperspace jump in five hazodes. ” Another screen, another stud. “Navigator! Lay in the fastest course possible to take us to these coordinates. ” He repeated the numbers the young one had given him.

When the orders were all given and the screens all blank, he sat back in his chair, entwined his long, bony fingers, and allowed himself a thin smile. “Wolruf, you traitor, I have you now. And Derec, you meddlesome boy, I’ll have your robots, your teleport keys, and your head in my trophy case. ” He reached forward and thumbed a button, and the starfish reappeared on a screen. “Deh feh opt spa, nexori. Derec. ”

The starfish seemed quite excited at the prospect.