The Dragon Never Sleeps

— 62 —

WarAvocat feared he would have a minor mutiny on his hands if his move did not produce quick results. To hear OpsAvocat and ServAvocat fuss you would think VII Gemina would scatter into its component atoms shortly if it did not head for Starbase immediately. And that despite assurances from Gemina that the Guardship's wounds were neither deadly nor incapacitating.

There would be political consequences if the fugitive did not turn up. His reelection looked ever less certain. The cream of his support had been killed in that end space. The regrowth system would be a long time replacing them.

"Coming up on breakaway, WarAvocat."

"Very well." That bastard had better show.

"Breakaway."

Two seconds passed. "Holy shit. There he is."

What? Already? Impossible.

"Look at that bastard go!"

WarAvocat ran to where he could see it for himself, telling no one in particular, "He's got to have been running at the top of his red all the way. Why hasn't he blown his Q?"

"He's seen us, WarAvocat. He's turning."

WarAvocat scanned the motion vectors, range rates, relative velocities. The son of a bitch had a chance.

He gave orders quickly, moving VII Gemina not in pursuit but so as to cut off flight toward S. Satyrfaelia. Once the Voyager headed the other way it was dead. VII Gemina could overhaul it on the Web and run it till its master gave up.

Then the fireworks started.

The Voyager's Q went. The multimillion-degree fusion process erupted into the Voyager, obliterating everything inside before it reduced the more stubborn hull to stripped nuclei. Those inside the Voyager did not live long enough to realize what had happened.

Probe had time only to determine that there were five beings aboard, all apparently human.

Before the fire faded OpsAvocat asked, "Can we head for Starbase now?"

Lady Midnight fluttered into WarAvocat's mind. "It's your Guardship, OpsAvocat. Condition Yellow One. WarAvocat out."

Nothing left now but the chore of hunting down the villains behind the ambush.