The past few hours slid off Keith. The humiliation of riding on the captain’s shoulder, of flagging energy—Keith shook his head. No more of that, man. This was how a real man fought, behind the controls of a space fighter, jinking and jiving, using skills with the twitch of his fingers and his mind. He was the best at this, the very best, and he was going to prove it by bringing these louts back to Victory.

  The entire fighter shook, and there was a clang, a jerk and Keith saw the last stage fall off the rocket and away from them and fall back toward the smoggy planet.

  “We’ve achieved low orbit, gentlemen,” Keith said with pride in his voice, as if reaching this point in the mission was all due to his efforts.

  Weightlessness hit them. Keith could feel his butt lift the slightest bit from his crash-seat, although the restraints held him down. He turned to Maddox. “How’s Riker doing?”

  Maddox turned to the old sucker. “He’s breathing. Sergeant, can you hear me?”

  Riker didn’t reply.

  Maddox looked up. “Do you see Victory?”

  Keith arched his eyebrows, wanting to say, “Are you kidding me, mate?” They’d barely reached low orbit, and the radar screen sat in front of Maddox. Why didn’t the captain get to work instead of expecting the ace fighter jock to do everything for him?

  “The radar screen is in front of you, sir,” Keith said instead.

  “Ah,” Maddox said. “So it is.” He began to tap it and play with it. Those look like launches,” he said.

  Keith leaned over so he could look at the radar screen. “I’d say so: three of them.”

  “Are they missiles?”

  Keith glanced at the captain, and he must have had a smirk on his face.

  “Lieutenant…” But Maddox let the word drift away, although he stared at Keith.

  Keith cleared his throat, twisted to the radar screen again and studied it closely. He reached over and clicked a switch. There was a shift and the radar images turned red.

  “I’m thinking they’re fighters like us, sir.”

  Maddox squinted at Keith.

  “Call it a premonition,” Keith said. “I think you know a thing or two about that, eh?”

  “Glad to see you’re back,” Maddox said.

  Keith gave him an abrupt nod. “I’m back, sir, and I’m pissed off at the poor treatment we received planet-side. Now, if you’ll give me a second, I’ll figure out our options.”

  Maddox folded his arms across his chest.

  Keith pulled back to his panel, studying it, testing a switch here and a button there. “I’d say we have fuel for a ten-minute space burn. These rocket fighters weren’t meant to last long up here. Of course, I doubt they burned up all that fuel in one continuous use. I can maneuver or…” Keith didn’t finish the thought.

  “Go on,” Maddox said, “or do what?”

  “Head out farther from the planet, sir, hoping that Victory or a maybe a Fusion ship is nearby to pick us up.”

  “Or Grutch,” Maddox said.

  “That’s another possibility,” Keith admitted.

  “Take a look at those blips again,” Maddox said. “Recheck their status.”

  “Will do,” Keith said, as he leaned over again. “Uh-oh, I think I had it wrong before. I think those are missiles.”

  “Nuclear tipped?” asked Maddox.

  “If not that, then hunter-killers, satellite killers, maybe, or maybe rocket-fighter killers like us.”

  “Where’s the comm around here?” asked Maddox.

  Keith looked around and finally twisted in his seat and searched with his eyes where Riker sat. “I’d say that’s it, sir.” He pointed by Riker.

  “Right,” Maddox said. He leaned over and began to test the comm. The thing soon whirred into life as it activated.

  “This looks like a microphone,” Maddox said. He clicked it and said, “This is Captain Maddox. We’re in the rocket fighter leaving orbital space. Several hunter-killer missiles are heading for us. If you can lend a hand, we would appreciate that.”

  Seconds ticked by.

  “Victory must still be near Vulcan,” Keith said. “I’ll turn us around and try some long-distance firing with the cannon.”

  Just then, the comm crackled and a tinny voice asked, “Is that you, sir?”

  “Galyan,” Maddox said into the microphone. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Galyan said. “We have spotted your rocket. We are coming to intercept. If you could continue outward, that would help.”

  Keith laughed with glee.

  “We’re on our way,” Maddox said. “Is everything all right over there?”

  “We have faced a mishap or two, but we are ready to act.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Maddox said. “Now hurry up, if you please. We don’t want to cut this too closely.”

  -67-

  The Morag mercenary had been eavesdropping on Victory for some time while still maintaining a watch on the planet. It troubled him that Galyan presently ran the starship. This new development—Grutch’s gelatinous bulk quivered as his eyestalks drew back and lowered. The tentacles all but disappeared.

  According to a radio message, Captain Maddox claimed to be in the runaway missile that used its remaining fuel to build up velocity as it left Remus. The owners of Remus now launched—Grutch’s eyestalks lengthened as the eyeballs on the end concentrated on one screen apiece. The shells fired from the “space-fighter” had struck the earlier launched hunter-killers, destroying them. It was quality work with such primitive weaponry. If he’d heard correctly, Lieutenant Keith Maker had achieved this feat of marksmanship.

  Now, however, nineteen missiles sped up from Remus, hurtling after the capsule holding Captain Maddox.

  What did that mean for his bars of tellurium?

  The alien presence on Remus—Grutch did not think humans ran the planet anymore—hated Captain Maddox. They wished him dead. Why would the aliens dislike the captain so much that they would expend so much effort and weaponry? Perhaps more importantly for Grutch’s sake, would the missiles reach Maddox’s capsule in time?

  Victory already hurried to intercept them.

  Grutch itched to make his move. He debated teleporting to the primitive capsule and extracting Maddox from it. Then, he could be on his way. He would leave this bleary nebula and its strange practices. Something didn’t seem right, however, and Grutch wasn’t certain—

  An alarm rang in the control chamber.

  Grutch whipped about to scan—Victory was warming up its disrupter cannon. Why should his alarm blare because of that?

  Grutch warbled in fear. Victory had target lock on his stealth ship. That should be impossible. He had far superior technology—No, no, Grutch told himself. That is the wrong thought.

  It must be Galyan. The Adok AI holoimage had attacked him once before. Likely, the AI holoimage had learned a great deal in that one moment. No wonder events had moved against him lately. This was all Galyan’s fault.

  Grutch activated emergency teleportation. The enemy disrupter cannon built up energy—tentacles flailed about the control chamber as Grutch deployed all kinds of defensive measures. His craft spewed gel, launched decoy emitters and strained to reach teleportation capacity.

  On the double-oval starship, a yellow ray reached out, burning into the deployed gel, exploding various emitters and reaching for the hull of the stealth ship.

  At that moment, the stealth ship teleported, and the ray burned through the area where the Morag vessel had just been.

  Grutch’s ship reappeared five million kilometers from its last position.

  The pink-gray mass of Grutch sweated fear stain. It was a revolting stench, and it helped the mercenary move faster than usual. He checked his screens, his analyzers, the hull and other ship functions.

  An oozing substance now poured from Grutch. It was relief wash, and it cleaned him from the fear stain and brought him back to his usual calm.

  That had been far too close. Grutch had lived much longer than any Methuselah Man, and he planned to live longer yet. How had this nearness to death come about?

  Grutch yearned to go to the Mud Room and bath and relax. He needed to contemplate the Maddox Grab. His sponsors offered a great sum. But what good was any of that to him dead? Should he return to his sponsors and demand a greater sum?

  The idea appealed to Grutch. The sponsors had seemed to offer him a great deal, but now he was no longer sure. Maybe in retrospect it had been a miserable sum. Could he bargain with them to increase the payment?

  That had a few drawbacks, of course. He had journeyed quite far without payment. To have acted all this time without profit was galling. Such a thing did not appeal to Grutch. Yet, Galyan was vile and wickedly clever. Worse, he could not eavesdrop on the AI holoimage’s thoughts.

  This was becoming a dangerous mission indeed. If he left now, eventually those on Victory would drop their guard against him. That would make a kidnapping later—for much more payment—worthwhile.

  Grutch watched his screens.

  Victory beamed the Remus missile mass with neutron and disruptor cannons. Masses of missiles were destroyed one after another.

  Maddox in his tiny missile-ship—look at that. Another fold-fighter appeared. Did the starship possess more than one of the wonderfully clever craft?

  I have underestimated Maddox and his people.

  At that moment, Grutch almost decided to leave and re-bargain later with his sponsors. They clearly hated Maddox and Star Watch. He was sure he could make his sponsors pay through the orifice for Maddox.

  Still, Grutch wanted to watch developments for just a while longer. These odd aliens on the planet—knowing them, learning about them, could be worth future wealth.

  Therefore, Grutch began moving about the stealth ship. It was time to implement greater safety measures. Then, he would keep his distance, keep his sensor rays from Victory and await developments, as he was sure something interesting was about to happen soon.

  -68-

  Maddox, Riker and Keith made it to Victory. Marines rushed Riker to medical, where they began immediate heart surgery.

  “You barely made it back in time,” the chief medical officer told Maddox later. “I’m surprised Riker held out this long. He suffered a heart attack out there, and another was ready to strike.”

  “Will he be okay?” asked Maddox.

  “Thank goodness it wasn’t a stroke. His heart stopped, but it restarted. We can do plenty now. As I said, it’s a miracle he made it, but he did.”

  Upon leaving medical, Maddox leaned his forehead against a corridor bulkhead and whispered, “Thank you, God. I owe you one, I surely do. I’m very grateful that You let Riker live.”

  Maddox rejoined Meta shortly after that. She told him what had happened on the bridge with Valerie, and how the Lieutenant Commander was demanding release from the holding cell that Meta had put her in.

  “I’d better talk to her,” Maddox said.

  “We need to do something about the lumps on her forehead. I think the poor cosmetic…whatever you want to call it, is bothering her and adding to her misery.”

  Maddox nodded, and he grinned at his wife. “I appreciate your quick action on the bridge, and delegating command to Galyan was brilliant. It likely saved everyone, including us on the planet. I doubt anyone else would have done what you did and so decisively.”

  Meta brightened. “I knew there was a reason I joined the mission. Leaving Jewel was hard. I’m not sure I could do it again. But before we left Earth, I realized there would be a moment when only I could fix the situation. Isn’t that strange?”

  Maddox grunted an affirmative.

  “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me. I had a Maddox moment, a powerful premonition of what was to come.”

  Maddox smiled at his wife.

  “To think it happened on the bridge with Valerie.” Meta shook her head. “How odd I should have felt something like that beforehand. Well, now I want to get home. Jewel is—”

  “One thing at a time,” Maddox said, interrupting. “I have a ton on my plate, and it’s all vying for my attention. You saved us. It was perfect, and I’m proud of how you handled it. Now, though, I need to deal with Valerie.”

  Meta was frowning.

  “I promise we’ll discuss Jewel later. For now, though, we have to stay focused on the present and figure out the Unity: how it affects others like Valerie and how to deal with it directly.”

  Meta nodded sharply: obviously unhappy with the diversion.

  Maddox hardly noticed as he scrunched his brow in thought, and as they moved down a corridor toward the brig.

  “I find it interesting that I met Garth and Valerie met Diana Varus,” Maddox said. “That wasn’t a coincidence. Let me put that in the positive. The Unity planned it. So, what does that imply?” Maddox rubbed his chin. “The cerebraters and Unity telepathy are likely both more powerful than we realize. If not for Balron and the Erill energy I possess—”

  “Darling,” Meta said, sharply, as she wrapped her hands around his left arm. “Do you ever think that someday your luck will run out?”

  Maddox blinked, thrown out of his thought about the Unity and its telepathic powers. He glanced at his wife. “We’ve been over that. I have a job to do, and I do it.”

  “There must be a limit to your luck.”

  Maddox shook his head. He disliked this kind of talk. He needed to concentrate on the Unity and its goal. Still, he could see the warning signs on Meta’s face. He wanted to avoid this talk, however, so he said, “I needed you on the bridge with Valerie.”

  “We’ve been over that,” Meta said with an edge to her voice.

  Maddox sighed, and he controlled a sudden surge of anger. Dealing with his wife, even as part of the crew, was so much different from dealing with the others. Still, having his wife aboard had saved his life and maybe saved the entire starship and everyone aboard. Who would have had the nerve to relieve Valerie from command like that and then give it to Galyan?

  They reached the main brig hatch. “Uh,” Maddox said, as he disengaged his arm from Meta’s hold. “As much as I’d like to discuss my luck, as you put it, we have to use our time wisely. Events are crashing together at light speed. I need information from Valerie. To get it, I’d better speak to her alone.”

  Meta studied her husband and the cloud behind her eyes—perhaps she had another premonition. “What if the aliens use their power through Valerie to attack you while you’re alone?”

  Maddox smiled softly. “I think I can take care of myself versus the Lieutenant Commander—or the aliens.”

  “Don’t get cocky,” Meta warned. “You know that’s a New Man trait, don’t you? Overconfidence? One of their negative aspects.”

  Maddox stared at his wife before nodding. “You’re right. I’ll keep that in mind. Now, darling, I need to do this alone.”

  “Fine,” Meta said. “We can talk about this later.”

  Maddox wasn’t looking forward to that. In fact, he hoped to sidetrack his wife on the topic of Jewel and his line of work. He leaned near and kissed her, and he rubbed a shoulder. Then he turned to go.

  “Be careful,” Meta said. “The Unity is probably desperate now that you got away. Don’t get cocky just because it’s Valerie in there. We’re far from out of this.”

  Maddox nodded as he passed through the hatch, his mind focusing once again on the problem at hand.

  -69-

  Maddox decided to run this like a normal interrogation, and had the sergeant-at-arms bring Valerie into a small cell with a table and two chairs. The captain changed it up in one particular. He would have normally put a prisoner into the room first to let her sit and stew. Valerie was a different matter, not strictly a prisoner but one of their own possibly under alien domination.

  The hatch opened and two Marines ushered the Lieutenant Commander into the cell.

  Maddox stood from where he sat at the table and nodded at her. “Hello, Valerie.”

  “Why am I in the brig?” Valerie complained. “What did I do wrong?”

  Instead of answering, Maddox indicated the other chair.

  Valerie scowled at him. “Am I a prisoner then on Victory?”

  “Please,” Maddox said. “Let’s forgo any needless drama and get it over with. Sit and we can discuss it.”

  For a moment, it seemed, Valerie would become mulish as she screwed up her features. Abruptly, that smoothed away, and a nasty little smile showed on her lips. It was unlike her. She glanced at one of the Marines, smirking, and Maddox swore she sashayed to the chair seductively. That definitely wasn’t like the Valerie Noonan he knew.

  “Stay ready outside the hatch,” Maddox told the Marines.

  They acknowledged the order, retreating and shutting the hatch behind them.

  “Well, well, well,” Valerie said in a sultry way, as she ran her fingers through her long hair. “This is an interesting development, you and me alone in here. What are you going to do to me, hmm?”

  Maddox didn’t respond, although he put his hands on the small steel table as he studied her.

  Valerie smirked at him, and it didn’t seem like her but someone else.

  “You’re Diana Varus?” Maddox guessed.

  “What do you want with me, Captain?” Valerie purred.

  “To know your intentions, for one thing,” he said.

  “Really? Is that all?”

  “No, not all,” Maddox said. “Will you release Valerie when you get what you want?”

  Valerie’s lips parted as she laughed silently. “You think you’ve escaped us, but it isn’t true. We control the situation here.”

  Maddox leaned back as he considered the way she’d said that. This wasn’t Diana Varus, but the Unity speaking through Diana and then Valerie as conduits. Yes. The telepathic power was greater than he’d initially realized. But if their power was that great, why hadn’t the Unity acted more forcefully in the beginning? Perhaps there were limitations to their power and the way they marshaled it. The limitations—his escape and direct confrontation with them might have frightened them, and goaded them into gathering their greater telepathic might to forestall him.