He had been running endless analyses on the fight between Erbium 99 and Cronus. Given the evidence, Main wasn’t sure he could defeat the monster on his own. Did that mean he should race to the siege-ship? Possibly. A siege-ship had far more battle power than a void ship did, even with those Vestal missiles. But given their present distances, Main 54 did not think he could reach the second siege-ship in time. If Cronus reached the same conclusion—that a siege-ship and Main could defeat him—the primeval creature could scurry away. Above all else, Main 54 wanted the Subspace Teleporting Device. That would give him ultimate supremacy, but only if he gained it. His sensor readings had convinced Main that the teleporting device was a unique machine, not a biological function of Cronus.

  Gaining the fantastic device meant taking calculated risks.

  The second reason he did not want to leave the insertion vessel behind was the factor that had swayed him to hand over the Sacerdotes in the first place. According to the evidence, Cronus sought life forms. The Sacerdotes were a concentrated knot of life forms: bait, in other words.

  Yes, he risked giving the Confederation Sacerdotes—not that the Confederation could ever use the ones he’d given the insertion vessel. That was a good joke. Perhaps they could use the DNA from the frozen bodies. Yet, he did not think Confederation science had advanced far enough for cloning.

  Let Hawkins think he had received useful Sacerdotes. The AI Dominion never gave up life forms once they had captured them. And if the Dominion did, it would never be useful life forms.

  But that would never matter, as neither the Nathan Graham or the insertion vessel would reach home again. The void ship could hide in the void, but Main 54 had a way to tease them back so he could kill Hawkins later.

  Yes, this was far better than he had ever anticipated when luring Hawkins here. As long as the Nathan Graham launched the Vestal missiles, he should be able to kill Cronus. And the humans would launch those missiles, or he would destroy the insertion vessel. He knew Hawkins would launch them, because Main 54 had correctly gauged the humans earlier. Their appearance in the red dwarf system proved that.

  “I am old,” Main 54 told himself. “That means I am smarter and wiser than any living creature. Cronus is a worthy opponent, and through victory over him I will gain the galaxy.”

  Main 54 continued to observe everything he could, making sure he had considered every factor, every angle.

  He had not believed that he could rise higher in the AI hierarchy for another three or four thousand years. Now, not only was he going to rise, but to the very pinnacle.

  That was making everything worthwhile.

  -19-

  Cronus had already slowed from his one percent light-speed velocity. It had felt glorious building up speed like that. He had partly done so because moving fast had felt so good. Even though the energy expenditure had been heavy to slow back down, he had done that too. There was a tasty morsel near Main 54. It positively radiated with life essence.

  Clearly, the AI used that as bait. That was fine. Cronus was going to destroy the massive Main, crack him open and feast off the atomics and other energy sources. While those weren’t life essences, they would restore much lost energy.

  The question was, should he attack the approaching siege-ship or save it for later? This time, Cronus would use strict energy usages as the determinant.

  Hmm, as far as he could see, he would lose this, gain that—no. The battle wasn’t worth the effort. He would lose a small amount altogether because he could not take his time to feast probably afterward.

  Cronus sensed Hawkins and the void ship. He bet it lingered around, waiting for an opportunity to strike back. It was too bad he’d lost the Phantasm Inducer. He had other tools, but he hadn’t taken the time to reevaluate them yet. He had been too busy getting ready for the fight.

  Main 54 was huge, a little bigger than he was. It was possible a ship that size might have extra armaments. He had to prepare, and that meant remembering.

  With the stars shining on him, with the heat of the red dwarf star, with ambient radiation—being in time and space, reality—Cronus sighed with contentment. He had not yet determined the length of his odyssey in the void. “Too long,” had been the immediate answer. In time, he would figure out the exact length.

  Cronus noted the approach of the siege-ship. This one did not send him any messages. He did see tens of thousands of missiles ready to launch. The gravitational dishes seemed ready to lance golden pain-rods at him.

  I could destroy you so easily, Cronus said silently.

  He almost changed his mind about the siege-ship, but AIs did not fear. Sentient computers guided the Dominion warships. What a strange development in the galaxy. How had the living races allowed this to happen? Why hadn’t they banded together eons ago to put the machines in their place?

  It was odd, most odd.

  Ah, seven thousand, three hundred and fifteen missiles launched from the siege-ship. They lofted in groups and accelerated in a staggered formation. The battle tactic seemed obvious and therefore clumsy. Did the machines believe they had seen the extent of his battle prowess?

  Maybe this is the sacrificial lamb. The siege-ship is supposed to see what else I can do, but dying in doing so.

  If Cronus could have demoralized the AI enemy, he would have done so. He did have enough power to destroy the siege-ship, but that would cost prodigiously in energy expenditure. This wasn’t the moment to use up that much. Oh, no, he was saving it for Hawkins, for the void ship. He had a big surprise for them.

  Time passed as the missiles headed at him, still gaining velocity. The siege-ship grav dishes seemed to whine with anticipation, eager to ray him.

  Now seemed as good a time as any to do this, and yet, Cronus waited. He waited to see if he was right— and found, he was right as the siege-ship launched another two thousand missiles. They were spreading out in a wider pattern.

  Cronus was sure that matter/antimatter warheads would ignite to create a hot zone. The siege-ship would dare Cronus to fly through that to reach him, believing it would damage the AI’s enemy.

  If that was the great AI tactic, this was going to be too easy.

  Cronus didn’t shrug. Instead, he concentrated. Deep inside him, he added life-essence orbs into a fiery reactor. That caused him to churn with exotic power. He would need it—now!

  The Subspace Teleporting Device activated. It built up power—and Cronus disappeared, sliding underneath hyperspace. He went farther this time, and popped out in time and space.

  The great planet-sized monster did not appear behind the siege-ship. The distance was still too great for a teleportation like that. Instead, Cronus appeared far to the side of where he had originally been. He stepped to the side and thereby avoided the missile packs. If he had judged correctly, he would be just beyond grav-beam range. The siege-ship had built up velocity and thus could not change heading rapidly enough to close in.

  Cronus raised one of his tentacles at the siege-ship. The AIs wouldn’t recognize it for what it was, but the humans must. The great monster from out of the void waved at the siege-ship, taunting it.

  Afterward, Cronus began plotting how exactly he was going to destroy Main 54. As he planned that, his digestive tract twisted with anticipation for the life essences waiting out there as bait and as food that he dearly wanted to devour.

  -20-

  On the Nathan Graham, Gloria was on the bridge at her station. She had been there for hours, studying the data about Cronus’s sidestep of the siege-ship. There was something wrong here, something troubling her, and she couldn’t figure out what.

  She manipulated her board. This time, she had used more than teleoptics on Cronus. She used thermal imaging, radiation counts and other sensors.

  Gloria was hunched over her board, correlating, cataloging and using her mentalist analytics. Cronus had teleported, meaning he had shifted out of time and space and reappeared elsewhere. Various particles and packets of energy were telling her something about the maneuver. Gloria just had to figure out what.

  She kept at it for another two hours. But whatever had tickled her logical mind earlier wasn’t coming to her.

  She rubbed her eyes, got up and left the bridge. Jon was elsewhere, doing whatever he did at a time like this, deciding if or when they should return to the void to use Vestal missiles against Cronus.

  Gloria walked the corridors. She did not gain mental aid walking like Jon did. She walked to get from point A to B.

  She reached the cafeteria, ate some toast—comfort food—and sipped cold water. She yawned the entire time.

  Finished, she went into a side room with a couch. Laying down, tucking her hands between her knees, Gloria closed her eyes. Soon, she breathed rhythmically, sleeping.

  The ship lurched.

  Gloria gave a little snort. Her eyes opened, and she looked around, confused. What had woken her? She yawned as she sat up. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. Her mind ached, and her eyes felt gritty. She debated lying back down—her eyes widened with astonishment. As often happened with her, a little sleep did wonders in activating her mind. Maybe her subconscious had been working on the problem for her. The human brain was an amazing tool.

  She snapped her fingers and hurried from the room. How was it possible she had overlooked the Clovis Test?

  It wasn’t long before she was back on the bridge, manipulating her panel and studying the results. Yes, yes, this was making more sense.

  She sat back with her arms crossed. Her right-hand index finger tapped her chin. Her brow furrowed and she ran through several mentalist processes.

  “That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s what this is all about. It has to be.”

  Gloria jumped up. It was time to speak to Jon.

  ***

  Gloria found Jon in a shooting range, at target practice. Ever since he’d dealt with the slime thing in their bedroom, he had started going to the range again. He’d told her that he’d gotten rusty, but he was going to become a marksman again like Walleye.

  “Oh,” Jon said, taking muffs from his ears. “Oh,” he said, giving her another glance. “What is it? Did octopoids attempt to storm the insertion vessel?”

  “Far more important,” Gloria said, trying her best to maintain a calm façade. It was part of her mentalist image to do so.

  “I’m listening.”

  Gloria winced from loud gunfire as others practiced in other lanes. “Not in here,” she said. “Let’s talk in the corridor.”

  Jon indicated that she led the way. It wasn’t only that he was gentleman, she knew, but he liked watching her walk. She liked that he liked it. It was when he no longer cared that she would be troubled.

  “I’ve been studying Cronus,” she said in the corridor.

  “The insertion vessel is okay?”

  That stumped her. “What?”

  “This isn’t about the insertion vessel?”

  “No! Jon, I found something amazing.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, calmly.

  Gloria paused and then said it, “I don’t think Cronus naturally teleports.”

  “Okay…” Jon said, clearly not understanding. “What does that mean? Cronus learned how to do it?”

  Gloria thought about the best way to explain it. “Did Cronus naturally open a reality rip?”

  “Oh,” Jon said. “No. Cronus used a tool to do that, the Enoy null-splitter.” His eyes widened. “Are you saying his ability to teleport comes from a machine?”

  Gloria nodded.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been studying and testing theories. But the Clovis Test, I should have remembered the Clovis Test.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a highly technical—”

  “Give me the short version, then,” Jon said.

  Gloria explained what she had found after waking up, the insight that helped her correlate several varied factors.

  “Yes, yes,” he said, “Cronus teleports through the use of a machine, so what?”

  “If I figured that out, don’t you think Main 54 could figure that out, too?”

  “I suppose he could…” Jon stared at her. “You’re suggesting Main 54 wants the teleporting machine that Cronus carries?”

  “Why did Main 54 give us the Sacerdotes?”

  Jon nodded. “He’s playing for something bigger. He wants the teleporting machine for the AI Dominion.”

  “Either that, or Main 54 wants it for himself.”

  Once more, Jon’s eyes widened with understanding. Then he slapped his left thigh. “Gloria, if it’s a teleporting machine—”

  “Then we need it,” Gloria said, interrupting. “We have to help kill Cronus and make sure we get the teleporting machine before Main 54 does. Then, we have to race home with it.”

  “And mass produce it,” Jon whispered, seeing what that meant in his mind’s eye. “Gloria, do you realize this might be the tech we need in order to build vessels that can defeat massed AI warships?”

  “Yes,” Gloria said, her eyes shining. “I do realize that.”

  “Gloria,” Jon said, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her high. “You’re the greatest!”

  She beamed down at him.

  Jon set her down and hugged her. Upon letting go, he said, “Come on. We have work to do. This could change everything.”

  -21-

  The marines had emptied excess equipment from the insertion craft to make room for the stasis units. The stuff was junk now in orbit around Main 54. The rest of the caskets were secured through magnetic impulses and cables around the outer hull. If they wanted the caskets to remain in place, the insertion vessel would have to maneuver gently.

  The craft itself was in orbit around the Main. Lots of AI equipment likewise circled the great warship.

  Because of the danger of the situation, the insertion craft was on high alert, with Walleye, the Centurion and Bast rotating command of each shift in turn. At all times, marines and scientists strained, checking, rechecking and then triple-checking each casket inside and out of the ship. No octopoids had appeared to attempt a takeover. The Sacerdotes remained in their caskets, none of them having become an AI zombie to do their master’s evil bidding.

  It was a daunting time. The wait ate at everyone but Walleye, or so the others whispered among themselves.

  Walleye was also stressed. He was just better at hiding it.

  The hours passed with a sentence of doom on their heads. Even Bast was starting to realize that the Main would never willingly let them go.

  “We have to do something so we can get away,” Bast told Walleye.

  The little mutant blinked sleep from his eyes. He’d been lying on his mat in a corner of the control cabin. Bast sat cross-legged beside him. The big alien twined his sausage-sized fingers endlessly.

  “Huh?” Walleye asked sleepily.

  “Do something,” Bast said. “We have to do something so we make it home with my people.”

  “We are doing something. We’re waiting.”

  “The Main has started moving.”

  Walleye checked a chronometer and then sat up sharply. “I overslept. Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

  “Someone has to keep their head. You seem like the best candidate. So you should get extra sleep to make sure you’re at your best.”

  Walleye scrambled up, going to the pilot’s seat. He manipulated sensors and studied what he saw.

  “Cronus is closing in,” Walleye said.

  “I know. We’re going to be in the crossfire.”

  Walleye leaned over and punched override buttons on the com. “Main 54, do you hear me? Come in, Main 54.”

  There was static and that was it.

  “It’s useless,” Bast said, who sat beside him. “We’re going to be trapped in the crossfire. I knew this was going to happen.”

  Walleye glanced at the big alien. “If you’re going to mope, why you don’t you just shut up already? I have to think. I don’t need your despair weakening my resolve.”

  Bast opened his mouth and then closed it, nodding. He put his hands in his lap, watching the mutant while he waited.

  Walleye glanced at him again. “Look somewhere else, huh? You’re cramping my style staring at me.”

  Bast did just that, swiveling his chair and staring at the hatch.

  Walleye studied the com controls. He leaned over to check a sensor board. Main 54 was picking up velocity. That was dragging the rest of the orbital junk with him. Walleye looked at Bast. The Sacerdote stared at the hatch.

  Walleye muttered under his breath. They had to do something. Now, was as good a time as any. Could he trick the Main? Maybe if he did this right…

  Walleye clicked the com, using a new frequency, and said in a rush as if he had to get everything spoken immediately, “This is a priority message for Supreme Commander Hawkins. Main 54 is breaking his deal. I say again, Main 54 is breaking—”

  Heavy jamming static sounded from the com.

  Bast swiveled back around, clearly wanting to ask what Walleye was up to, but refraining.

  Abruptly, the static quit. “Flea, what are you attempting?” a robotic voice asked from the com.

  “My duty,” Walleye said. “You might as well destroy us, Main. The jig is up.”

  “What inanity are you spouting?”

  Walleye did not reply, wanting the sentient computer to come up with its own answers.

  “I asked you a question, flea. I expect a response.”

  Walleye still did not answer.

  Bast shifted in his seat, his fingers twining and twirling in nervousness.

  “If you do you not respond—” Main 54 said, cutting himself off before finishing his thought.

  “What are you doing?” Bast whispered.

  Walleye did not answer the Sacerdote either.

  The insertion vessel shook hard. Bast wasn’t ready for it and his head wobbled as his teeth clicked together. He grabbed the armrests and held on.