“How do you know, old chap, that the ship is even capable of interstellar travel? We certainly haven’t tried to take her anywhere.”

  “Stalling is a way of wasting time. I told you that I don’t like that.” Praxedes waved expansively. “This vessel wasn’t built and buried here to move luggage or individuals from Earth to Europa. Monitors on Earth recorded its passage from over the Atlantic Ocean to its present position. Knowing the time of transit allows us to calculate relative velocity. It had to have traveled through tachyspace, however briefly. You must’ve realized that too.”

  “A trip from Earth to moon, you only should eat something soon that gives you chronic diarrhea, is pretty different from making a transstellar jump.” Gelmann glared up at her captor. “What if whatever this ship uses for a drive can’t manage the distance?”

  Praxedes gestured casually with the gun he carried. “Easy enough to find out. Give the order.”

  Heath smiled cheerily. “What if we decline to do so, you filthy rotten son-of-a-bitch?”

  Bassan clipped the holojector to his belt and removed from a pouch the mate to the electric shock device Ashili had used to threaten Gelmann. “I don’t like to use this. There’s usually a lot of noise. Me, I like peace and quiet.” He advanced on Heath.

  “No!” Everyone turned to Iranaputra.

  Bassan halted and glanced at his superior. Praxedes considered the smaller man. With his slim build and delicate features he looked like a perfectly molded miniature model of a much larger individual. Perhaps things would go faster if they directed their questions and demands to him instead of to the more formal Heath.

  Ignoring the threatening whispers of his companions, Iranaputra rose and approached the Autothor. “Evaluate the distances between star systems represented there.” He pointed to the hovering holomag.

  “Done,” said the Autothor a moment later. Argolo looked up briefly from where she was watching over Hawkins and Shimoda to whistle appreciation for the Autothor’s speed.

  “Are you capable of making such a journey through tachyspace?”

  “Really, old boy!” Heath’s outrage was no less palpable than that of Gelmann or Shimoda. Ignoring the drama being played out behind him, Hawkins just kept mooning morosely at Aristarchus.

  “Calculating.” Less than two minutes passed. “Yes. There would be no problem making the journey.”

  “There, you see?” Praxedes nodded approvingly to Iranaputra, then grinned down at Heath and Gelmann. “No reason to make this any more difficult than necessary.” To illustrate his good intentions he raised the muzzle of his weapon, though he didn’t deactivate it.

  “We’ll have a pleasant trip to Reconcavo and turn over the artifact to the research staff that’s already been assembled there. Then you’ll be put on a commercial flight heading back toward Earth, where you can resume your respective retirements devoid of any worries.” The commando lied fluidly and without compunction. “The people of Earth, citizens and retirees and tourists alike, long ago quit troubling themselves with galactic politics. Keep that in mind and you’ll have an easy, relaxed time of it.” When they failed to respond, he added encouragingly, “Why do you care what happens to this artifact anyway? It’s not your property and it’s not your responsibility.”

  “I know.” With great ceremony Heath removed his old monocle from a pocket and inserted it carefully in his left eye. “But something in me grates at the thought of turning it over to the likes of you. I don’t like you, you see.”

  “That’s okay.” Praxedes took no offense. “You don’t have to like me. Just cooperate and you can hate my guts all you wish.” He nodded to Bassan, who stepped forward, holding the ominous little electrical device before him.

  “There is no need for that, sir.” Iranaputra rushed to hover protectively over Mina Gelmann.

  Heath glared up at him. “Victor, old chap, if any one socioeconomic body gains control of this ship, it will upset the balance of power among the leagues.”

  “That is not my concern or yours, Wes.”

  “Listen to your friend,” Praxedes advised. “He talks sense.”

  The two men eyed one another a moment longer.

  “Go ahead … Colonel.” Iranaputra smiled reassuringly at his old friend. “‘Tarry not, messenger. Let him who knows give the order.’ Kalidasa, Third Chapter.”

  Heath shook his head as he climbed to his feet. “You and your bottomless font of ancient nonsense.” He sighed tiredly. “I guess there is neither glory nor despair in a strategic retreat.” His long legs carried him past Shimoda and Hawkins until he was standing next to the slowly bobbing Autothor.

  “Old ship: Have you been listening to this discussion?” The commandos’ hands tightened on their weapons.

  “I have.”

  “Do you understand what these visitors want?”

  “I do.”

  Heath glanced over to Gelmann, who had cast her eyes downward. He spoke to the patient Autothor. “Then I hereby direct you to comply with their request. Activate your drive and take us to the system they have indicated.” As Praxedes relaxed, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that just now.”

  Praxedes tensed anew. Heath blinked and looked confused. Even Hawkins perked up.

  Bassan gestured threateningly with his weapon and Heath obediently tried again. “I’m giving you a direct order. You’ve always responded to our directives before.”

  “I am aware of that. But I really cannot comply with this particular request at this time.”

  “When would you be able to comply?”

  “I cannot tell you that either.”

  His expression less than conciliatory, Bassan hefted the compact shocker and again approached Mina Gelmann. She flinched as he pressed it to her forehead, just above the left orbit.

  “This is some kind of a trick. I don’t like being tricked.” He eyed his superior expectantly.

  “I don’t want to play anymore,” growled Praxedes. “No more games.”

  Iranaputra started forward until Argolo turned her gun in his direction. “It is not a trick. You have been watching all the time. When could we have done anything to fool you?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care.” Bassan could sense the old woman beginning to tremble beneath him.

  Iranaputra noticed it too. For the first time a word he had never imagined in relation to her popped into his mind: frail. She was frail. They were all of them after all frail: frail and old.

  What am I doing here? he found himself wondering. I should be at the Village, watching vids and eating soft foods.

  Heath had the presence of mind to stall desperately. “Maybe your damnable associate is responsible. Difficult as it is to believe, perhaps she has had a crisis of conscience and has chosen to intervene.”

  “Ashili?” Praxedes chuckled softly. “Not likely.”

  Heath clung to the notion. “Maybe she’s affected the ship’s programming somehow. Of course, you could ask her, but she’s not here, is she? She hasn’t come back.”

  Iranaputra picked up the refrain. “Maybe she has decided she does not wish to associate with you anymore.”

  Praxedes’ grin faded. “Shut up. Both of you. Ashili’s perfectly executed a difficult assignment. She’s going through normal post-conclusive syndrome. I’m the one who told her to take a walk to calm herself down. She’s sorting out her thoughts, that’s all.” His eyes flicked toward the entrance to the great room. “She’ll be back momentarily.

  “Besides, the ship responds only to the five of you. She assured me of that.”

  “What if something’s changed, old maggot?” Now Heath was the one doing the smiling.

  Praxedes hesitated, then addressed the Autothor. “What about it, ship? Has that changed? Or do you still only respond to directives from these five?”

  “That has not changed,” the floating blue ellipse replied.

  “Ah.” Praxedes relaxed afresh. “You see? Wherever Ashili is, she’s not affecting the situation here.” Once more he gestured with his weapon. “Ask it again.”

  Heath complied. The Autothor’s response was unchanged.

  Bassan released Gelmann’s head. “There is a problem here, sir, but I don’t think it’s one of deception on the prisoners’ part.”

  “Agreed.” Praxedes spoke to Heath. “Probe. Ask it why it can’t comply.”

  Heath shrugged. “Ask it yourself. As long as it’s not an order, it should respond to you.”

  Praxedes nodded, turned to the blue ellipse. “Is there a problem with your drive?”

  “No. Ship’s propulsive systems are fully operational.”

  “Then why can’t you comply with his request?” He gestured in Heath’s direction.

  “Because other requisite actions have assumed precedence.”

  The commando nodded to himself. This he understood. “Very well. Will the delay in compliance be brief?”

  “Possibly.”

  “There, you see?” Praxedes regarded his fellow operatives. “There’s no problem here. How long a delay do you anticipate before you can comply with the request to move?”

  “At this moment I cannot give a specific time frame. It will depend on the outcome.”

  Iranaputra frowned. “The outcome? The outcome of what?”

  “Why, the forthcoming battle, of course.”

  “What battle?” Praxedes shifted uneasily. “What’s happening? Is one of the fleets approaching?”

  “You are preparing to fight,” Iranaputra declared decisively. “That is why you cannot move now.”

  “Affirmative. I am presently initiating a defensive posture. Defensive programming supersedes any and all peripheral directives.”

  “Who’s attacking?” Bassan looked nervous. “Which league?”

  “The approaching vessels from which I infer possible hostile intent are not nearby.” The deep turquoise blue of the Autothor was intense.

  “Must be the Eeck.” Argolo picked at her shirt. “Or maybe the Victorians. It would make sense for a latecomer to try a direct assault in an attempt to compensate for tardiness and ignorance.”

  “Doesn’t matter who it is.” Praxedes addressed the Autothor with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel. “You can handle them just like you did the Chakans, right?”

  “I am not positive. Though I am sensible of my power, I am still only one ship against an armada.”

  “How many ships in this hostile force?” Heath’s own curiosity had been aroused. “A hundred? Two?” That would represent the combined strength of the First Federals and the Keiretsu, he knew.

  There was a pause, then, “I apprehend more than a thousand.”

  Praxedes gaped at the turquoise ellipse, his companions, then the Autothor again. “No such fleet exists! There aren’t that many warships in existence.”

  “Incorrect observation,” the Autothor responded tersely. “There is something else of interest. Though the range is extreme and precise analysis difficult, I estimate that this represents only an advance scouting force. There is a tachyspace disturbance farther out which hints at the presence of a much larger main body.”

  “Scouting force.” Bassan was gazing dumbly at the drifting Blueness, all thoughts of interrogation forgotten. Under the weight of the Autothor’s words a great many things were forgotten.

  Hawkins sprang to his feet, something he hadn’t done in years. “Where’re they from? Who can put out a thousand ships as a scouting force?”

  “I’d think that intuitively obvious. What do you think I was built for?”

  Admiral Sobran of the First Federal Federation was standing as he stared intently. “Where are they now?” Before him the warlo image displayed distant stars among which swarmed hundreds of points of light, like a hive of electric bees.

  An analyst replied with figures, to which the admiral nodded slowly. The advancing formation was impressive for more than size. It hung together with almost mechanical precision.

  “Any attempts at communication?”

  Another officer responded. “Apparently there was a survey vessel run out from the Roosevelts that got close enough to take some visuals. The … aliens didn’t react. It’s assumed they were studying it as intently as it was studying them. They didn’t linger long in the vicinity.”

  “Not surprising.”

  “I’ve been analyzing the preliminary information, sir. These new intruders don’t look anything like the artifact presently in lunar orbit. Some of their ships are big, but the information indicates nothing approaching it in mass. They also differ greatly in appearance, both from the artifact and from human-built craft. According to the information provided by the survey vessel, they are constructed to dozens, maybe even hundreds, of different designs.” She swallowed. “Of course, there are a lot more of them.”

  “More aliens. Different aliens.” Sobran wished fervently he was back at his desk instead of drifting ignorantly halfway between the Earth and its moon trying to deal with an alien visitation of inconceivable magnitude. “A few days ago we were convinced there were no such things. Now all of a sudden we find out that the neighborhood’s crowded.”

  “They’re coming in fast, sir.” Another tech looked up from his station. “They’ve already passed a couple of independents.”

  “Any reaction?”

  “Didn’t stop to try and communicate, fight, or do anything at all. Didn’t even slow down. Unless they shift direction in tachy, they’re coming this way.”

  Why am I not surprised? Sobran mused. “In light of any other information I think it reasonable to assume they’ve been drawn by that thing orbiting Luna. Whether to reinforce it or confront it we don’t know. I can’t imagine what it would need reinforcements for, and if there’s going to be a battle between alien ships, we might be better off evaluating the results from a more respectful distance.” This was Sobran’s way of formally announcing to any staff within range of his voice that he didn’t know what the hell was going on and wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

  “One thing I’d bet on.” Everyone turned to one of the specialists. “The artifact’s departure from Earth set off an alarm somewhere, though whether among its friends or enemies we have no way of knowing.”

  Sobran nodded. “We are the fleet of the FFF. Our responsibility lies with our own worlds.” He turned to his second-in-command. “Mr. Natwick, make preparations to return home.”

  “Uh, Admiral?” one of the techs ventured. “What about Earth? What about the Homeworld? They have no ships to defend themselves with.”

  Another tech spoke up. “Indications are that the multiple Keiretsu vessels are making preparations for tachyspace insertion.”

  Sobran grunted. Hiroshigi was no fool either. “I’m an admiral of the First Federal Federation. That leaves me little opportunity to indulge in expensive nostalgia. Earth will have to take care of itself.” He settled back in his command chair, reasonably pleased with his hasty but very necessary rationalization.

  On board the flagship of the Candomblean force there was similar apprehension. But having succeeded in placing operatives aboard the artifact, its commander was in a much more sensitive position. If he ordered a retreat, he risked losing the greatest technological prize since the invention of gunpowder.

  “Both the Federal and Keiretsu fleets are shifting out into tachyspace, sir,” reported a specialist.

  “Wonder if they know something we don’t?” murmured the scantily clad navigator next to him.

  “They’re panicking.” The commander looked thoughtful. “There’s no perceived reason for flight.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” The officer who commented wore a lopsided grin. “The high-speed approach of a thousand uncommunicative alien craft of undeclared intentions might be enough to make one want to hurry off elsewhere.”

  “We can’t pull out now.” The commander’s voice was steady. “We can’t abandon those brave operatives who have made their way aboard the artifact.”

  “Not to mention the commendations and promotions to be won,” someone whispered under their breath.

  “What if these new vessels exhibit hostile intent?” someone asked aloud.

  “Then we will be forced to retire,” the commander admitted. “In which case our operatives will be extremely well placed to observe, record, and comment on all subsequent activities. In that event I will personally lead a group sacrifice to ensure the safety of our people.”

  “That’ll be a real comfort to them,” a communications tech murmured.

  “Excuse me.” The commander leaned forward, toward an intelligence officer who waited patiently on his words. “There’s something else we’d better consider.

  “Our operatives were instructed to try and get the artifact to move to Reconcavo. If they succeed and this new alien force has come all this way to confront it, aren’t they liable to follow it there?”

  The commander blinked, considering. For a moment the faculty which always enabled him to come up with a ready response to any query had thoroughly deserted him.

  XIX

  A worried Ashili turned up a new corridor, trying to find a familiar landmark, any kind of landmark. She was not yet willing to concede that she was definitely lost; only that she’d temporarily misplaced her way.

  Immense chambers opened into the corridor. One on her left was alive with drifting pyramids and rhombohedrons of oscillating, lambent energy, each a different color. A triangular structure fashioned of frozen fire darted in her direction and she jerked backward, but it halted in the doorway, stopped cold by an invisible barrier. Taking a deep breath, she stumbled on.

  The composition of the floor beneath her feet began to change. Bending, she placed her palm on the vitreous material. It was smooth, cool to the touch, and alive with an internal rose-colored light. She had definitely not come this way before. Or perhaps she had, and her surroundings were metamorphosing as various ship functions continued to come online. If that was the case, it was going to be even harder to find her way back to the observation room. She strode grimly on.