“What’s your suggestion?”

  Gloria nodded vigorously. “I only have one. We can’t—shouldn’t—make a deal with him. We don’t know enough about him to make a calculated choice. Better the devil we know than the devil we don’t.”

  Jon eyed her, wondering if Cronus could eavesdrop on their conversations. If Cronus could, this was the ideal time to trick the dark spawn.

  “If Cronus is what you say,” Jon told her, “then we absolutely must make a deal with him. He’s too powerful for us. We don’t understand him, right? Let the AIs destroy him. Oh, maybe that won’t happen in this system, but eventually. I doubt even Cronus can stand against the AI Dominion. Let the two big powers fight and weaken each other. In the meantime, the Confederation will grow.”

  “No,” Gloria said, as she turned pale. “You’re not understanding me, not really.”

  I understand better than you think, he said in his mind.

  “Sir,” a portly scientist said. “We have a preliminary finding.”

  Both Jon and Gloria turned to the man. He had a computer slate in his hands. The scientist tapped the slate, frowned at what he read and then looked up in embarrassment.

  “What you found, sir, was basic organic matter, a gooey substance that we might as well call protoplasm.”

  “Why did it take your people so long to figure that out?” Gloria asked. “If it’s protoplasm, you should have known almost right away.”

  “Uh…” the scientist said. “The ‘slime,’ for want of a better term, kept mutating or shifting into other substances. That gave off heat or energy. Finally, the energy wound down, leaving the basic protoplasm.”

  Jon rubbed his chin.

  “What do you make out of that?” Gloria asked.

  “I’m unsure…” the scientist hedged.

  “No, you’re not,” Gloria said shrewdly. “You don’t want to say.”

  The scientist rubbed his mouth before nodding. “The heat or energy had a transmuting power. I know that sounds like hokum, but that’s the fact of the matter. I suspect that Cronus—as the Commander called him—used basic substance and transmuted it to a form he could manipulate.”

  “What basic substance did he use?” Jon asked.

  “A human body would be my guess,” the scientist said. “That’s why it reverted back to its type, cellular protoplasm.”

  “You believe what you’re saying?” Gloria asked.

  “That is my supposition,” the scientist said, beginning to sound huffy.

  “Huh,” Jon said, dumbfounded by the report.

  “This substantiates my theory,” Gloria told him. “Cronus is something from outside our universe, using powers we don’t understand.”

  “All the more reason to make a deal with him,” Jon said slowly.

  “No!” Gloria exclaimed. “All the more reason to make sure he never leaves the void to enter our time and space.”

  “Gloria,” Jon said, smiling as though she was simpleminded. “You’re three hundred and sixty degrees wrong.”

  She frowned. “Don’t you mean one hundred and eighty degrees?”

  Jon stared at her just a second too long before he said, “Oh, yes. You’re right.”

  She blinked several times, and understanding seemed to shine in her eyes. “Oh,” she said.

  “You understand, then?” he asked.

  “Yes. You must destroy him, Jon.”

  “You understand nothing,” he said without heat. “Next time I see him, I’m going to tell Cronus that we’re ready to help.”

  He didn’t say aloud to Gloria—he hoped he didn’t need to now—but his goal was to “help” Cronus with the Enoy null-splitter. Jon wanted to get close enough to destroy the thing and flee the void, forever trapping Cronus in it. Afterward, they would deal with the Main as best as they could.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Gloria said.

  Jon nodded, silently agreeing.

  ***

  Several hours later, Jon had an epiphany. It came from Gloria’s observation about old Earth legends. How did one deal with supernatural creatures? The legends said there were various expedients. Cronus might use the slime humanoid again inside the Nathan Graham. Cronus might use the creature aggressively. He needed a way to thwart that.

  Jon sat at a computer terminal, reading about various old Earth legends. He wondered if some of the legendary ways of dealing with such beings might work. It was worth a try. He hurried to a tech lab, wanting to arm himself with one of the possible methods.

  -6-

  While in the void and behind his reality field, Cronus’s human-sized simulacrum turned off the Phantasm Inducer in a cell deep in his great bulk of material being.

  He had used the tiny sludge of slime in the Nathan Graham’s lab as a conduit to listen to Hawkins and his wife argue about strategy. The scientist could not know, but the energy he had spoken about had burned off from the sludge in order to allow the words to reach the Phantasm Inducer here.

  The inducer really was a fantastic Enoy tool. Before listening to Hawkins talk to his wife, Cronus had been certain the man would plan a double-cross. Now, he realized Hawkins was going to keep his word—more fool him—as Cronus certainly planned to double-cross Hawkins and his people. Cronus needed to consume the human life-energy in order to help him create enough hot plasma to use against the AI Main.

  Hawkins would bring the Nathan Graham back into the void in order to help him “fix” the null-splitter. There was nothing wrong with the Dandelion’s null-splitter, of course. That was a ploy. Cronus believed he’d need at least two null-splitters to create a large enough reality rip for him to squeeze through into their reality.

  It was time to talk to Hawkins again and give him the final instructions. Then, he would await the human-crewed vessel to reenter the void. Wouldn’t they be surprised as he tore the ship apart and began devouring all of them?

  The simulacrum smacked its mouth for Cronus. He was going to feast on limitless things again, on cringing creatures with that beautiful life essence that made them so tasty and useful. He could hardly wait. After he ate heartily and turned most of the life energy to hot plasma, he would be ready to teach Main 54 and his siege-ships a thing or two about dominance.

  -7-

  Jon was sound asleep in bed with Gloria beside him this time. He had a strange dream. There was something outside the window of his house. This house was on the top of a mountain, on a windy planet. The gusts were stronger and longer, the wind whistling through chinks somewhere. The wind wanted inside the house.

  In the dream, Jon paced up stairs, down corridors and watched as the walls shook and the wind screamed louder outside. In the dream, Jon muttered. He didn’t like this place. Next time, he would not build on a mountaintop.

  He stopped suddenly and listened to the howling wind. Windows shook at the shrieking force. He could almost make sense of the sounds, as if they were words directed at him.

  That was crazy. Who had ever heard of a talking storm? Abruptly, the howling quit.

  Jon cocked his head in the dream. Was the storm over? He did not think so. In fact—he heard a distant shout. It was feminine, very sweet, and it shrieked his name. An earthquake struck. The house shook—

  Aboard the Nathan Graham, in his chamber, Jon muttered in his sleep. His eyelids fluttered. The lights came on and someone was shaking him and screaming his name. Jon sat up. Gloria was beside him, shaking him. Her eyes were wide with fear as she peered past him. Jon looked where she did.

  Jon shouted a curse and sat up, reaching for the handgun hanging beside his bed in a holster. A black puddle of slime moved across the floor. As he watched, the puddle grew upward into a slimy green humanoid, one that lacked eyes.

  “Cronus,” Jon said, trying to spit the sleep from his mouth.

  A mouth appeared in the green humanoid face. It smiled obscenely “Hello, Hawkins,” the thing said. “Having sweet dreams?”

  Jon scowled. “Were you the wind in my nightmare?”

  “You’re not telepathic in the slightest,” the simulacrum said. “I wanted to use your dreams to help guide you, but alas…” The thing shrugged brawny green shoulders.

  Jon held the holstered revolver, not yet drawing it. Gloria was behind him, clutching his shoulders, pressing her breasts against his back.

  “Is this a bad time, then?” the simulacrum asked.

  Jon didn’t answer.

  “We need to get to work, Hawkins,” the thing said. “I want out of the void. Will you help me as you promised?”

  “I said I would.”

  “You did. Now, it’s time to prove it.”

  “Fine,” Jon said. “If you’ll leave—”

  “Well,” the thing interrupted. “That’s another reason I’m here. I studied what you said in the science lab. Then I studied it again, more carefully.”

  “Excuse me?” asked Jon.

  “I analyzed what you told your wife, about having to help me because I’m too powerful to resist. The second time I listened to a recording, I realized something was off. Finally, it dawned on me. You were speaking for my benefit. I should have seen it sooner, but I hadn’t expected that level of deception from you. In some fashion, you deduced I could eavesdrop on you. I suspect you want to destroy my null-splitter so I can’t get out of the void. Am I wrong about that?”

  “What’s your point?” Jon snapped.

  “You won’t answer my question, I see. Very well. I need insurance now. And you know what I’ll take as insurance?”

  Jon squinted at the thing, and then he knew. Cronus wanted Gloria. Could the humanoid take Gloria with it when it shrank back into the blackness on the floor? Or would that kill his wife and Cronus would merely tell him he had her captive and could win her back if he was good?

  “That’s it,” Jon said. He began sliding off the bed.

  “Please,” Gloria whimpered. “Stay here, Jon. Don’t leave me.”

  He used his free hand and patted one of hers. “It’s okay,” he told her. “I have a plan.”

  Naked, standing on the floor, with the back of his thighs pressed against the bed, Jon drew his gun and aimed it at the green thing.

  “Playing the hero?” the simulacrum asked.

  “I advise you to leave.”

  “Or what?” the thing asked. “You can’t do anything to me.”

  “You were never going to save humans for last, were you?”

  “Uh…no,” the simulacrum said. “You, meaning all of you, your crew, will be grist for the mill, feeding me so I can make hot plasma.”

  “To destroy Main 54?” asked Jon.

  “And his sprinkling of siege-ships,” the simulacrum added.

  “It won’t work,” Jon said.

  “I know what you’re doing. People must be coming with some kind of power units. Gloria, come here.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Gloria Hawkins,” the simulacrum demanded. “You’re coming with me—”

  Jon aimed the revolver and started firing. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  Each shot tore massive holes in the simulacrum. The outer edges of those holes burned as if on fire. Even more strangely, the simulacrum began melting, forming a bigger puddle of slime on the floor.

  “What’s happening?” the simulacrum shouted. “Bullets shouldn’t be able to do this to me.”

  “Goodbye, Cronus,” Jon said.

  The eyeless thing seemed to regard Jon, even as the thing melted more. Most of the substance drained into the dark hole at its feet.

  “How is this happening?” shouted Cronus.

  “My advice,” Jon said, “is to stay where you are. You can’t beat us, certainly not me. I’ve defeated or gotten the better of you each time. It won’t be any different if you come through onto this side. Do you understand?”

  “Hawkins!” the simulacrum shouted, shaking its thinning arms. “This is impossible.”

  “Yep,” Jon said. “That’s me, the maker of the impossible. Listen, Cronus. If you come onto this side, you’re history. If that isn’t plain enough, I’ll kill you.”

  Cronus roared, but now the puddle of green slime sucked into the black hole. That devoured what remained to the simulacrum until it vanished in a black puff of smoke. At that point, the black dot shrank into itself and disappeared with a wink.

  Jon trembled as he set down his gun. His knees no longer worked, so he sat on the edge of the bed, shaking, surprised that his plan had worked.

  “Jon,” Gloria said, crawling to him, sitting beside him and gripping his torso. There were tears in his eyes.

  Someone pounded on the outer hatch.

  “Enter,” Jon shouted.

  The hatch slid aside and armed marines piled into the room.

  “You all right, sir?” the chief asked.

  “Get a tech crew,” Jon said. “Tell them to take the slime to the lab. They mustn’t touch it, though.”

  “You heard him, Jones,” the chief told a marine. “Bring some techs back with equipment.”

  The named marine ran out of the room.

  “Say, Sarge,” a different marine said. “There are bullets in the wall.”

  The sergeant glanced at Jon.

  “Dig them out,” Jon said.

  “You heard him,” the sergeant said.

  The marine dug out the slugs, and he held them in his left hand, showing the sergeant.

  “What’s wrong?” the sergeant asked.

  “Look at the slugs, sir,” the marine said. “They’re silver.”

  Gloria’s fingers tightened against Jon’s flesh. “Silver bullets?” she whispered.

  “Cronus comes from a dark mythos,” Jon whispered back. “I read that some supernatural creatures hate silver. Now, we see why. It was a long shot, but it worked.”

  “You made him mad doing that,” she said.

  Jon nodded. He hoped Cronus was mad, steaming mad. The Supreme Commander was counting on it.

  -8-

  In the void, the planetary-sized monster known as Cronus seethed with fury and indignity. Not only had Hawkins realized that silver had unique properties against Phantasm Induced creatures, but the man had swiftly employed the knowledge to devastating use.

  The silver destruction of the simulacrum there had shorted the Phantasm Inducer here. Cronus did not understand the inducer’s science, and he did not have time to torture Kree into explaining it. She was near cessation. Thus, Cronus did not dare torture her further. He didn’t trust her to tell him the truth otherwise, so what was the point in asking her?

  How had Hawkins known about silver’s effects? Cronus hadn’t known it. The man must be a genius.

  It didn’t matter. He’d never needed Hawkins’ help in the first place. He also had enough stored energy to do what needed doing on the other side. Extra, devoured life essence would have made things easier—

  “I don’t care,” Cronus rumbled. He needed nothing from humans but their grisly deaths! After destroying the AIs in the red dwarf star system, he was going to hunt in the Confederation. He was going to devour all the aliens there, including the freakish Kames group-thinkers.

  Knowing the future soothed some of Cronus’s rage. He envisioned billions of life forms begging and pleading with him. Such thought vibrations would feel glorious and build his appetite into that of old. Then, he would feast and grow supreme again. He would grow until he had such strength that he could challenge the AI Dominion in a way they could not conceive.

  “Ah…” Cronus felt much better thinking about all that. Now, a little concentration, a bit of pain as he squeezed through to the other side—

  “Time to begin,” Cronus said.

  Through force of will, he formed several simulacrums. The slimy humanoids marched through the Dandelion of Enoy, which was parked on his outer surface, on a non-green patch area. He had all kinds of tech toys gathered throughout his long life, a veritable junkyard of items.

  The simulacrums reached a modified control area inside the Dandelion and began readying the null-splitter. That meant powering up the asteroid ship’s quantum-pi engine.

  Cronus reasoned out a few steps, and the process quickened. The simulacrums continued to monitor the situation—

  Using his wonderful senses, he witnessed the bizarre power of the null-splitter reaching out. The power took hold of the fabric of something that not even Cronus understood. Lines of power appeared. They were hard to study for long—like a human staring at the Sun. The power tore open the fabric of time and space, making a way of escape from the dreadful void.

  “Bigger,” Cronus said.

  Inside the Dandelion of Enoy, his simulacrums stood in a row at the controls, tapping, twisting and demanding more power from the quantum-pi engine and null-splitter.

  The glowing lines in the void grew, creating a greater opening into time and space.

  Cronus sensed maximum power from the Dandelion’s engine and null-splitter. That was not a big hole, certainly not big enough for a planet-sized creature to squeeze through. Who did they think he was? The reality rip was plenty wide for a three-hundred-diameter void ship. But—

  Cronus made savage and fast calculations. The Dandelion could not create a larger reality rip. Cronus knew he wasn’t going to be getting the Nathan Graham’s null-splitter any time soon. Either he could squeeze through the rip or he could not. That brought another problem. How long would the rip remain there? The quantum-pi engine was already straining. If the rip closed while he was halfway through, say, it would chop him in half, killing him.

  Cronus wanted to think this through, but that kind of time was up. If he waited, he might have to shut off the quantum-pi engine. He might have already damaged it…this might be his only chance—

  With an inarticulate cry, the planet-sized creature hurled himself at the tiny reality rip. As he moved, the planet-sized thing began to twist and elongate. The act seemed lewd and perverted, but he thrust an elongated and thinned portion of himself through the reality rip and started squeezing the rest of his bulk out of the void into time and space.