“I understand.”

  “Do you? I speak now for your father. I speak as one calling from the grave. I hear my brother’s blood calling for vengeance. I hear your father saying, ‘My son, I lay this burden on you.’”

  Maddox scowled. He didn’t like others telling him what to do or forcing their opinions and ways on him.

  “Is there anything else, Uncle?”

  There was pause until Ural, said, “Is that not enough?”

  Maybe it was. “What will you do?” Maddox asked.

  “Remain at my post.”

  “I wish you well, sir.”

  “And I wish you happy hunting, nephew.”

  “Sure. Thanks. Goodbye.”

  With that, Maddox broke the connection and the conversation ended.

  -7-

  That night, starship time, Maddox lay in bed beside Meta with the lights out, having said goodnight to Jewel in the other cabin. He tossed back and forth.

  “What’s wrong?” Meta asked.

  Her voice surprised the captain, and he turned sharply. He thought she’d been sleeping.

  “Why did that startle you?” Meta asked.

  Maddox was silent.

  “Husband,” Meta said, putting a warm hand on his chest, “You haven’t come back all the way from the Heydell Cloud. You’ve been, I wouldn’t call it distant, but you’re restless. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure.” Maddox hedged because he didn’t care for self-analysis of this sort, although he knew Meta did. “I wonder how Dravek is doing.”

  “Your clone brother?”

  “These days, I just think of him as my brother.”

  “If Dravek is anything like you, I’m sure he’s doing fine.”

  “Maybe.”

  Meta ran her hand to his belly.

  Maddox grinned, rolled toward her, and put a hand on her hip. Meta felt good. He stroked her hip and then clasped her to him.

  They became intimate.

  Afterward, Maddox rolled back onto his side of the bed.

  “I love you,” Meta said.

  He faced her in the dark. “I love you.”

  “What’s troubling you? It’s more than your brother or not fully engaging again.”

  “I spoke to Ural, as you know…” Maddox told her most of what Ural had said.

  “How did an assault vessel from the Sovereign Hierarchy of Leviathan get all the way to the Library Planet?” Meta asked. “The Commonwealth lies between the two. Did the ship take that long of a detour?”

  “Good questions,” Maddox said. “The answer is, I don’t know. I’m beginning to suspect the Supreme Intelligence had a hand in the assault vessel’s arrival.”

  “Is that what has you so restless?”

  “No.”

  “Husband, something is gnawing at you. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

  He stared at her in the dark, imagined he could see her curls. Long ago, Meta used to be an assassin. She might understand. “I’m hunting Artaxerxes Par.”

  “He’s a New Man?”

  “An archduke of the Empire,” Maddox said.

  “He’s the Emperor’s friend?”

  “They’re companions in murder. They were both at the Library Planet the first time Victory was there. They both plotted my father’s death. Artaxerxes Par helped slay him.”

  Meta said nothing.

  “My father’s blood cries out from the ground. I hear it. Now, I’ve learned that Artaxerxes has secretly entered the Commonwealth. Even better, I know where.”

  “Your father’s blood cries out,” Meta said. “The phrase sounds symbolic maybe even judicial.”

  “It should. When Cain killed his brother Abel, God told Cain his brother’s blood cries out from the ground for vengeance.”

  “Is that where you heard it?” Meta asked.

  “I read the story again today.”

  “You read the account in Genesis just because?”

  Maddox was slow in answering. “No.”

  “Did Ural tell you that?”

  “Not the story of Cain and Abel.”

  “Ural said your father’s blood cries out?” Meta asked.

  “Yes.”

  Meta sighed. “You know Ural said that to goad you. He knows enough how you think, because it’s probably how he thinks.”

  “Maybe,” Maddox said, “or maybe it’s something I must do as a New Man.”

  “But you’re not a New Man. You’re my husband. You’re the captain of Star Watch’s greatest vessel.”

  “I can be all that and a New Man, as well.”

  “You’re not one of those arrogant snobs,” Meta said with heat. “You’re far better and nobler than a New Man.”

  “Fine, I’m not a New Man.”

  “But…”

  Maddox’s gut twisted. Here it was. Would he use the information or ignore it?

  “You’re hesitating,” Meta said. “You’re not sure. Is that what’s troubling you?”

  That crystalized it for Maddox. “Tomorrow, I’ll give orders to head for Cestus IV.”

  “We’re presently heading for the refugee planet of the Adoks.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “You promised Galyan you would try to reunite the living Adoks with him.”

  “I did.”

  “The Lord High Admiral wants you to pick up the trail there and punish those who kidnapped you last time. Surely, those orders hold precedence over your blood crying out against Artaxerxes Par.”

  “Wrong,” Maddox said. “My blood doesn’t call out from the ground. My father’s blood does. Oran must be avenged, and here’s the rare opportunity for me to achieve it.”

  “Dearest, I know you’re one of the foremost strategists in Star Watch. You’re also the di-far. You can change the course of history, lifting it from one path and setting it onto another. Surely, the living are more important than the dead.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Not maybe. Besides, you must follow the orders from High Command.”

  “Maybe,” Maddox said again.

  “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Just what I said,” Maddox said. “I can hear the cry of my father. Because he died, my mother soon died as well. She echoes his cry. They urge me to avenge them. There’s a secondary reason as well. Artaxerxes runs an underground trade in human flesh. Here’s a chance to sever it at the source.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Maddox told his wife the rest of the message, about the Empire’s abduction operation.

  “This is serious,” Meta said. “We have to help those women somehow. But what you’re planning might start a war with the New Men.”

  “I will not let the Empire kidnap young Commonwealth women against their will. Because of it, the New Men are the ones tempting fate, courting war by abducting our citizens.”

  “The kidnapping is wrong. You’re right about that. You are also the di-far. If that is what your conscience is telling you…”

  Maddox laughed harshly. “I’m not calling it conscience. It’s an obligation to my parents, to my heritage, to who I am. I must kill Artaxerxes Par.”

  “You mean murder him.”

  Stubbornness twisted Maddox’s face, although Meta didn’t see it in the dark.

  She likely sensed it, though, for she grew quiet, finally saying, “You’re going to do this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No matter what happens?” she asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “By ‘maybe’ you mean ‘totally’. You’ve learned to hedge your answers in your absence. What happened to the man I once knew who said exactly what he would do?”

  Maddox reached out held her again. “Have I ever truly done that?”

  “Not always, no, but usually.”

  “Tomorrow,” Maddox said, “I’ll give the orders to change course.”

  “Why not tonight, if it’s that important?”

  “I want to sleep on it. It is a big decision.”

  “The Lord High Admiral gave you orders to go to the Adoks.”

  “Because he thought that’s what I wanted.”

  “Does it matter why? Orders are orders, are they not?”

  “Are they?” asked Maddox, with heat.

  Meta said no more.

  Maddox also remained silent, though he nearly spoke several times.

  Finally, however, they both fell asleep.

  -8-

  The next morning, after Maddox and Meta ate a hearty breakfast, the captain called certain personnel to the conference chamber. It had been a long time since there had been a conference aboard Victory.

  Soon, the others filed in. By custom, the captain sat at the head of the table. Next to him was Meta. Beside her was Lieutenant Commander Valerie Noonan, an athletic, brunette-haired lady.

  Valerie had commanded Victory for the last two and a half years during Maddox’s absence. Strangely, the crew was more accustomed to her these days than Maddox. However, Valerie had graciously welcomed the captain back. Valerie had even saluted him when she’d entered the conference chamber before taking her seat beside Meta.

  Lieutenant Keith Maker was sitting next to Valerie. It did not appear as if they were dating. Their relationship was a complicated on-again, off-again affair. Keith was shorter than Valerie, although not by much. He was a Scotsman with the touch of an accent, and claimed to be the best pilot in Star Watch.

  Maddox had never found a reason to challenge the claim.

  At the other end of the table from Maddox sat Professor Ludendorff. The Methuselah Man had thick white hair and wore his customary gold chain around his tanned throat. One too many buttons was undone on his shirt, revealing curly white chest hair. He had the same distinct older-man’s handsome look as always.

  Ludendorff had been particularly intrigued by Maddox’s explanation of the crystal Eye of Helion and the teleport bomb they’d used while on Gath in the Heydell Cloud to destroy Leviathan assault vessels.

  Galyan, unlike the others, didn’t sit but floated on the other side of the table from Keith. Next to him was Andros Crank, the Chief Technician of Victory. Andros was a short, stout Kai Kaus, one of ten thousand that Maddox had long ago freed from a Builder Dyson Sphere.

  Lastly, closest to Maddox on this side, was the once-old Sergeant Riker. Chronologically, Riker hadn’t changed, but he was much younger in appearance and medically, and more athletic than before. He was shorter than Maddox, tough looking, and no longer sported a bionic eye, arm, or leg. Having experienced a physical transformation in a different dimension, the change into youthfulness had become permanent. With his younger physique came the urges of youth. Riker hadn’t managed to resist them all. His change presented an interesting philosophical or metaphysical point.

  Maddox initiated the meeting. “You’re here,” he began, “to be informed about a change in plans.”

  Valerie, it seemed, was the least pleased by the announcement. She didn’t outwardly groan, but she did frown.

  In contrast, Galyan stared intently at Maddox. Victory was on its way to the refugee planet of the Adoks. More than anything, Galyan wished to be reunited with his people, the living Adoks. Unfortunately, the living Adoks deeply mistrusted and even feared holoimage, deified, computer-run AIs like Galyan due to past traumas. Almost brought to the brink of extinction in a faraway star system by such deified AIs, the living Adoks’ apprehensions were deeply rooted.

  “Did you say a change in course, sir?” Galyan asked.

  “That’s right,” Maddox said.

  “Did the Lord High Admiral call and give you the new heading? Was that what the message was about yesterday?”

  “It was not,” Maddox said.

  “What message?” Valerie asked.

  Maddox stood abruptly with his fingertips resting on the table as he scanned each of them. “I received news from my uncle, Golden Ural, who, as you know, is on the Library Planet. Ural has obtained critical information regarding the New Men and an insidious operation where they kidnap women from the Commonwealth, funneling the women into the New Men Empire. No doubt, the women are becoming breeding stock so the New Men may out-produce the Commonwealth in terms of sheer numbers of people.”

  “Sir,” Galyan said, “the Lord High Admiral did not give you orders for this change of course?”

  “He did not,” Maddox said, with an edge to his voice. He disliked others questioning his decisions, especially now, after his absence of two and a half years. Still, he made an exception for Galyan. “While the Lord High Admiral did not, I’m taking full responsibility for our change in course.”

  “Sir,” Valerie said, perhaps a bit hastily, drawing all eyes onto her, “were we not supposed to find out what happened to the starship two and half years ago, and if the Adoks had a hand in your kidnapping?”

  Despite multiple attempts to understand the mysterious jump Victory had taken when using a Laumer Point the Adoks had insisted Victory use to reach their planet—two and a half years ago—no one knew what exactly had happened then. The Adoks denied any knowledge of the mystery. The jump had transported Victory to a void. In this void, the Morag Grutch—a B.E.M., a bug-eyed monster with many tentacles instead of hands and feet—had teleported onto the bridge, abducted the captain, and later handed him over to unknown forces, possibly Spacers. Eventually, Maddox found himself captive in the Scutum-Centaurus Spiral Arm, under the control of Leviathan Soldiers. If not for his clone brother…

  Pushing the thought aside, Maddox nodded to Valerie. Her question had brought this about.

  “My authority to change course,” Maddox said, pointing to a folder he’d set on the table, “comes from this.” He opened the folder, lifting a document with impressive and colorful seals of state. “This is the Planetary Plenipotentiary writ I received from the Commonwealth Parliament in Stockholm before we left for the planet Kregen several years ago. The Prime Minister himself authorized this. The writ grants me the authority to make any decisions I deem necessary and make it binding to the Commonwealth.”

  Valerie cleared her throat and shook her head.

  “You question my writ of authority?” Maddox asked.

  “Sir, I don’t doubt the writ’s existence or that you possess authority outside the Commonwealth, in the Beyond. I’ve read a copy of it. The writ grants you broad authority, and is only valid when you’re outside the boundaries of the Commonwealth.”

  “That is incorrect,” Maddox said. “The writ is valid whenever I see fit.”

  “I hate to disagree with you,” Valerie said. “But the writ clearly states that your authority to act is exclusive to regions outside the Commonwealth. Also, you possess the authority of a task fleet admiral outside the Commonwealth. That implies you lack such authority inside the Commonwealth, where we presently find ourselves.”

  “I see,” Maddox said, “you’re a space lawyer then?”

  “No, sir, it is not that at all. It’s just…”

  “Please, Lieutenant Commander, speak your mind,” Maddox said. “This is a conference meeting, and I’ve called you here to discuss this.”

  “Is that true, sir?” Valerie asked. “Did you not have us attend in order to tell us and to have us fall into line, as we have done in the past?”

  “Is that what you have done in the past, Lieutenant Commander?”

  “Sir,” Valerie said, “I’m not questioning your authority.”

  “It seems like you are.”

  “I’m questioning this decision, that you have the power to make it while we’re in the Commonwealth and we under direct orders from the Lord High Admiral.”

  Maddox clasped his hands behind his back. It felt strange being back in a starship. He’d missed it, and now he was here. As had happened in the past, Valerie Noonan was giving him trouble. He did not like it, not in the slightest. It was almost on the tip of his tongue to say, “Well, you know what, Lieutenant Commander? You can board the Tarrypin and go. Leave, as you’re no longer welcome aboard my starship.” Maddox barely held that in check.

  From where Meta sat, she looked at him with alarm.

  Maddox may have been gone two and a half years, but his wife knew him intimately. Could she see his temper building?

  Meta touched his nearest hand.

  That jerked Maddox from his thoughts.

  Meta removed her hand, as the touch had achieved its purpose.

  Maddox inhaled. “Lieutenant Commander, you’re welcome to lodge a protest. If you truly care to, you may even call the Lord High Admiral on the Long-Range Builder Comm device. Either way, this ship is changing course.”

  “Sir,” Galyan said, “you promised you would help me reunite with the Adoks.”

  “I did promise that,” Maddox said. “And I tried, Galyan. It cost me two and a half years from my wife and daughter.”

  “I am sorry for that,” Galyan said. “I would do anything to bridge that separation. I, more than anyone, know what it is like to be away from those you love.”

  “I don’t dispute that,” Maddox said, “and I don’t dispute your earnestness to reunite with the Adoks—”

  “Please, sir, keep your promise,” Galyan said, interrupting.

  “Now see here, Galyan, I have more than one promise to keep in my life.”

  “This has to do with a different promise?” Galyan asked.

  The others looked at Maddox intently.

  “It does,” Maddox said.

  “May I ask what the promise is?” Galyan asked.

  “Yes, you may ask,” Maddox said.

  Silence lengthened.

  Galyan blinked several times, possibly analyzing the captain’s behavior. “I see, sir. I may ask, but you may not necessarily answer.”

  “That is correct,” Maddox said.

  “Is that not a bit rude, sir?” asked Galyan.

  Maddox felt a flush of anger course through him. Using his steely will and logic, he intercepted the rage, quelling it. It was like a game of ping-pong playing out in his mind or perhaps in his heart.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, I’m the captain. I run the starship. I expect obedience from each of you. You may ask questions; I will answer as I can. You may lodge protests as you wish. Galyan, that goes for you as well.”