He recalled a time, many missions ago, when a Juggernaut had caught the starship with a strong tractor beam. Victory had broken free but had been hurled into a null region afterward.

  Was this a null region? He dearly hoped not. Hadn’t Builders created null regions, tiny pocket universes? They had placed Destroyers with a Ska in the one he’d visited twice before.

  Maddox’s head bumped against his command chair as he swiveled around on his hands and knees. With a surge, he managed to grab the chair and worked up to his feet.

  He was badly shaking by that time, with sweat clinging to his cold flesh.

  Working around the chair, he collapsed on the seat. He almost fainted from the exertion. Maddox blinked stinging sweat out of his eyes. He didn’t have the strength to wipe his eyes just yet.

  He coughed, and that hurt the muscles of his chest.

  Finally, though, he attempted to peer through the red gloom around him. He saw people lying on the floor. The nearest had blood on their faces.

  Maddox clicked an armrest control, but nothing happened.

  He looked up at the main screen, but it was blank, showing nothing but the screen itself. He tried to assess if it was cold in here. If the ship had stopped working—

  No. It didn’t feel cold. He concentrated on his feet, trying to feel vibration through his boots that would indicate—

  The engine was working, because he felt the slight thrum or vibration of it through the bridge deck plates. Over time, a spaceman no longer noticed the constant but slight vibration. Now he did because he’d concentrated to feel it.

  Maddox had never been happier to feel that slight thrum.

  So whatever had happened and shut down other equipment hadn’t caused the main engine to stop. Did that mean the ship had velocity? If so, where were they drifting or what were they moving toward?

  It was time to find out, and for that, it would be easier if he had some help. He groaned as he pushed off his chair and staggered for the nearest person…

  Maddox quickly discovered that he couldn’t wake anyone on the bridge. What’s more, he found that everyone had crusted blood under their noses and sometimes under their eyes—in some instances, blood must had leaked from their eyes. He didn’t like that.

  But that wasn’t the point. They had crusted blood, but his had still been sticky.

  What did that indicate? Something, he was sure.

  Feeling stronger now, he walked to the hatch, but it didn’t open automatically as he reached it. He had to pry open a side panel and manually open the hatch with a rotating lever.

  He found that the corridor had the emergency red lighting, too. Hmm… Maddox went to Valerie’s comm board, tapping it. It didn’t work, though.

  He went to his command chair and opened a secret slot, taking out a blaster. He checked it. The blaster was dead. It had a cell, but the power cell must have drained of energy.

  Had the jump caused that? A normal jump wouldn’t have, but this hadn’t been a normal jump. And yet, if the act of jumping—or whatever it was they had done—had drained the blaster, the comm board, the main screen—why did he feel the engine thrumming?

  Maddox took a hand comm from his pocket and tried it. It was also dead.

  Ah. He dug into the secret compartment in his chair and withdrew his monofilament knife and scabbard. He hadn’t worn or used this for some time.

  The edge of the blade was one molecule thick with a unique substance that could cut anything as if it was butter. He attached the knife and scabbard to his belt.

  Now, it was time to start hunting and getting some answers.

  -40-

  He found unconscious crewmembers lying on various floors with crusted blood under their noses and sometimes under their eyes. Even by repeated shaking or lightly slapping their faces, he couldn’t wake any of them.

  He called for Galyan several more times, but never received an answer. It would seem that he was the only conscious person aboard Starship Victory.

  “Meta,” Maddox said. His wife might be conscious, as she had a superior metabolism, too, although not as efficient as his.

  Maddox didn’t run through the corridors because he didn’t feel strong enough. His head hurt, and his eyesight dimmed if he pushed himself too hard. He moved resolutely, however. None of the turbo-lifts worked. He had to use the emergency metal ladders to go up or down different levels.

  Soon, he used an emergency rotator to open his hatch. He found Meta lying on their bed. She was wearing her Star Watch uniform and had sluggish blood under her nose.

  “Meta,” he said, gently shaking her.

  Meta groaned.

  A fierce elation surged through Maddox. He could do many things on his own. He felt better, though, knowing that he wasn’t alone. It also pleased him that his woman was better than anyone else besides himself.

  For a variety of reasons, he’d chosen the right woman to be his wife.

  “Thank you, God,” he whispered.

  “Meta,” he said afterward, gently dabbing her nose and lips, wiping away the blood.

  She groaned once more and seemed to gain consciousness. “Maddox?” she whispered.

  “Take it easy,” he said. “There’s been an accident and it’s knocked out everyone but you and me.”

  She slurred words he didn’t understand, trying to ask questions. He told her a second time to take it easy. By slow degrees, Meta regained full consciousness.

  “Oh, Maddox,” she said, groping for and clinging to him.

  “There, there,” he said, patting her back as he held her. “We have to find out what happened.”

  “Yes,” she said. “But…if everything went dead why does the engine still work?”

  “We need to find out.”

  “Do we have weapons?”

  “The blasters went dead, too.”

  “What about your gun?”

  “Right,” he said, moving to a trunk, opening it and taking out a service pistol. He strapped the holster to his side, took out the gun and screwed on the sound suppressor. That made the barrel longer, but a silencer might prove important for a number of reasons.

  “I have this,” Meta said, showing him a wicked-looking knife with a long blade and brass knuckles attached to the handle.

  “Is there anything to eat?” he asked.

  Meta had a few supplies stashed away. They ate some protein bars and chugged water from plastic bottles.

  “My headache is fading,” Meta said.

  Maddox nodded. His was too. Their superior metabolism was probably why they were conscious and no one else was, but they had to keep their interior engines running by giving them food. Maybe their bodies were burning up calories even faster than normal—for whatever reason. Did that indicate that they were in some realm other than normal space? Maddox wasn’t sure he liked the idea.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s see if we can figure out why the engine is still running.”

  -41-

  It was tedious work moving through the red-lit corridors and climbing down emergency access-ways. Finally, though, they reached the engine-level deck. Maddox’s stomach rumbled and he felt inordinately hungry. When asked, Meta agreed that she was hungry, too.

  “Why is our metabolism running so much faster than normal?” he asked.

  Meta frowned at him. “I don’t know.”

  “Several reasons come to mind,” he said. “Different physics or—”

  “Gas,” Meta said. “It’s gas.”

  Maddox had noticed her sniffing the air. He now did likewise and shook his head.

  “You don’t smell it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “It’s faint, but it’s there. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

  Maddox tried again but couldn’t detect anything different. Was Meta’s sense of smell sharper than his? He didn’t see why that should be the case, but he supposed it might be possible.

  “Gas could indicate a leak but more likely someone pumping a nearly odorless gas through the ship,” he said.

  “That would obviously indicate intruders,” she said.

  Maddox drew his long-barreled gun. Meta did the same with her knuckle-duster blade. Together, they went through one corridor after another, nearing the main engine chamber. They could definitely hear the engine thrumming.

  “Wait,” Maddox whispered. He looked back at his wife. “Did you hear that?”

  “A scuffle?” she asked.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  He stared into her eyes and finally nodded. Meta was a deadly fighter. Not only was she stronger than average, but had quicker reflexes than most due to her 2-G heritage.

  Maddox moved like a great jungle cat stalking its prey, his senses straining, particularly his ears. He heard more scuffling ahead and a click. Then something banged against a bulkhead.

  He stopped.

  “What is it?” Meta whispered.

  “Gravity,” he said. “I should have realized before now, but it’s weird that the grav-plates are operational.”

  “Oh,” Meta said. “That’s right. What does it mean?”

  “I’m beginning to think it means someone turned on the engines and turned on the grav-plates.”

  “Wouldn’t we have been floating for a while then before that?”

  “That’s just it,” Maddox said. “No one was slumped unconscious in their chairs. Now we know why. Before the grav-plates came back on, everyone must have been floating in zero gravity, so they drifted to various places and ended up on the deck or wherever they happened to fall.”

  Maddox’s eyes narrowed, and he continued advancing through the corridor. He heard more sounds, including a crackling some radios might have made.

  His sense of outrage grew, as it felt as if boarders were inside Victory. But if the chrome-colored androids had boarded the starship, wouldn’t they have started killing people or gathering them into one place, at least?

  Not if everyone was unconscious and the androids were going to destroy the ship afterward.

  Why would androids turn on the engine and grav-plates then? And what were the androids doing in the engine room?

  With even greater care, Maddox approached a bend in the corridor. He came up even with it and slowly peered around the corner.

  There was an open hatch twenty meters away. He saw brighter light through the hatch and a momentary shadow—a humanoid shadow.

  “Right,” he whispered.

  Maddox dashed around the corner and rushed toward the hatch. He heard bangs and clangs from within the other chamber. Androids were in the main engine room. His gun likely wouldn’t do much damage to them, but his monofilament knife could slice and dice android metal as easily as it could cut paper.

  A rising intensity filled him. Androids had boarded the starship. Androids had likely pumped in a secret gas to keep everyone down. This was his chance to save his people—he couldn’t screw up or his people would all die.

  Maddox threw his back against the bulkhead beside the hatch. A second later, Meta did likewise beside him.

  He glanced at her pig-sticker, the knuckle-duster-blade combination. It wasn’t going to do jack against androids. But having it would boost her morale, as at least she held a weapon.

  Maddox leaned toward the hatch and peered through. He looked just in time to see motion, an android moving behind a relay stanchion.

  Just how many androids were in the engine room?

  Maddox darted through the hatch into the spacious chamber, moving fast toward the relay stanchions. Farther in were giant cylinders thrumming with raw power.

  Meta rushed after him.

  There were more noises, including the sound of someone unseen banging metal against metal.

  Maddox’s grip tightened around his gun. Could he shoot out android eyes? He reached the last relay stanchion and peered around it.

  Two androids moved behind a big block cycler several meters wide and three meters tall.

  Maddox swore softly under his breath. Where were the androids going? He looked back at Meta.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, too wound up to speak.

  “Go,” he said.

  He hurried from the stanchion, heading fast for the cycler block. Beyond that were huge sealed cylinders containing the heart of the antimatter engines. He might have felt hunger pangs, but his gut twisted in anticipation of the coming fight. He strove to maintain his fabled calm. So much rode on his shoulders. Unless he could subdue these androids—

  Maddox reached the cycler, slid along its warm throbbing sides and whirled around, raising his gun.

  Two androids walked toward a huge cylinder. Then it struck Maddox. Those two weren’t androids. Those were two small humanoid beings wearing bulky gray-colored spacesuits. Earlier, he had seen what he’d expected to see, not what was there. Then, another shock struck him. Part of the suit was for a prehensile tail that swished back and forth on each alien. Each alien—about the height of a ten-year-old boy—pushed what must have been a grav-sled. Certain starship parts were on the sleds, including an unmoving Batrun.

  Maddox looked back at Meta. She was staring at the aliens and didn’t seem to realize that he was looking at her.

  Maddox debated firing the gun and shooting one of the looters. Maybe he should shoot both of them in the back of their helmets. They had boarded his starship. That made them pirates.

  Instead of shooting them, Maddox lurched forward, walking fast toward them. Something must have given him away because one of the aliens released his grav-sled and turned around.

  The creature jerked in what must have been surprise. Behind the clear visor of the forward protruding helmet was the visage of a boy-sized squirrel, complete with a squirrel-like snout and whiskers. The black eyes held intelligence, though.

  The snout opened, and the alien must have spoken. The other alien released his grav-sled and also turned around. He, too, jerked in astonishment.

  By this time, Maddox had almost reached them. He motioned with this gun, indicating that they raise their hands.

  For a second, both squirrel-like humanoid aliens froze. Then one of them reached with amazing speed for what appeared to be a weapon belted at his side. He grabbed it and began drawing.

  Without hesitation Maddox fired, puncturing the suit where a human’s heart would have been. The small humanoid released his weapon and toppled backward onto the floor.

  The other alien thrust his suited hands into the air as high as they would go and began shaking.

  Maddox walked closer yet, wondering if he should kill them both. Who were they? He’d never heard of aliens like this.

  The supposedly heart-shot alien sat up slowly. A self-applying patch had already sealed the spacesuit hole, although the alien behind the clear visor looked stricken.

  The wounded alien did something, causing the clear, slightly protruding visor to open. “Please,” the alien said in awfully stilted English. “Don’t kill us. We surrender.”

  Maddox nodded, dumbfounded that he could understand them. Were they a secret science experiment, an attempt to turn animals into sentient beings?

  “Who are you?” the alien asked. “How are you able to subsist in the grok-contaminated air?”

  At that point, Meta collapsed.

  Maddox spun around to see three more suited aliens standing behind a fallen Meta. One of them held a long-barreled weapon that had been aimed at Meta. That weapon now moved to aim at him.

  Maddox dodged, and something flew past him as the weapon made a phut-sound. The captain rolled, and he rolled against the shot alien that had spoken to him.

  That one had grabbed the original weapon he’d first drawn from his belt. Maddox knocked the weapon out of the gloved hand and saw a blur of something that indicated another fired dart.

  Then Maddox scrambled behind the first alien, using him as a shield against the shooter. At the same time, he put the open barrel of his gun against the back of the alien’s helmet.

  “If they don’t drop their weapons,” Maddox said, “I’m going to kill you. Are you ready to die?”

  The alien made wild chittering noises, presumably at the others.

  A moment later, the other aliens dropped their long-barreled dart guns.

  “Deal?” the first alien said. “Do we have a deal?”

  “What deal?” Maddox asked.

  “You are right,” the alien said, already sounding calmer. “It is time for you and me to dicker.”

  -42-

  Maddox debated with himself. He was outnumbered, with no one to help him. Already, the aliens that had disarmed themselves by pitching their long-barreled dart guns onto the floor were slowly edging backward. Soon, they would undoubtedly bolt and get reinforcements.

  “Tell them to halt,” Maddox said, “or I’ll kill you.”

  “No, no,” the one he held said. “That won’t help you. I’m expendable. Surely, you realize that.”

  “Wrong,” Maddox said. “You told them to disarm and they did. You’re obviously the leader.”

  The furry alien said nothing to that.

  “Hurry,” Maddox said, pushing his gun barrel against the helmet, shoving the alien’s head forward. “I’m eager to kill you, so very eager.”

  “Now, now,” the alien said. “Don’t be hasty. You would die, too, then.”

  “Good-bye,” Maddox said flatly.

  Once again, the alien he held hostage made loud chittering noises.

  Those that were slowly backing away stopped.

  “Better?” the alien asked.

  “What’s your name?”

  “We are the Okos, a noble race of—”

  “What’s your name as an individual?”

  “Why do you want to know?” the alien asked, sounding hesitant.

  “I grow weary of this. I am alone—”

  “All alone,” the alien agreed. “Let me help you. Let me end this weariness—”

  “Stop,” Maddox said, beginning to divine something of these squirrel-faced aliens. “I have a bomb attached to my suit. The weariness I feel means I am hating life. You caused this. I shall detonate and take all of you to oblivion with me.”