The scream of the proximity alarm awoke Wilburn from his dream of the cloud-tipped

mountains of home. He slapped the panic switch to regain control from the automatics and tried to make sense of the display. Maybe it was another chunk of debris, he hoped.

The jumbled returns from the long scan gave no indication of what was coming, only that there were more than one and they were distributed within a 100,000-kilometer cube. Even when he boosted the gain he still couldn’t resolve the returns into anything that made sense.

Well, that wouldn’t matter for long. At the rate the objects were closing they’d soon be in visual range. He unlimbered the scope and adjusted it for max range. There, that bright fuzzy spot must be the target cluster. He kept the scope fixed on the spot.

“Holy mother of God.” He could hardly believe his eyes, as the image grew swiftly larger. The cluster appeared to be shattered icebergs, all sharp edges and random shapes. But they couldn’t possibly be icebergs, not out in deep space. Those sharp ridges must have scattered the signal. No wonder he couldn’t make sense of the scans. What could they be?

“Encountered some anomalous objects,” he encoded into the neutrino burst message pad. “Will transmit a visual.” He thought for a minute and then added, “Appear to be ice shards.”

Message sent, he prepared to image the advancing objects. Strange, they looked a lot closer than he’d initially thought. A quick check of the scan confirmed it. They were accelerating, which meant they were under power—under control!

Realizing the importance of his sighting, he fumbled with the imager, aimed it at the largest shard, and took a long exposure. Even though the objects appeared to be glowing he wanted to capture as much light as possible.

The strangest thing about the resulting image was a blurry area at the lower edge, as if something had passed between him and the larger object during the exposure time.

Wilburn just had time to glance out the port to see what it might have been when the universe exploded around him. He floated among the wreckage of his ship, unfeeling of the ice forming in his veins, of the gases rushing from every orifice of his body, unseeing with his frozen eyes as the shards passed him by.

Commander Simon Clay, the senior Fleet officer on board, checked the readouts from Pride’s watch stations and made a notation in the log. Nothing to report, he wrote, as completely expected. Nothing ever happened on these training flights.

The flight profile was always the same: They’d take a series of safe, half-light milliblinks out from Dzhou and run a straight survey sweep for three days. At the end of the survey they’d go through twenty barely noticeable, but more risky microblink jumps to run a second survey sweep. At the end, with only Fleet crew at the control positions, the ship would make a couple of risky, combat-standard blinks towards home.

Those last jumps would be hard on the fresh Dzhou crew, but they’d have to learn to get used to it. Nobody ever died from blink syndrome, although many found themselves wishing otherwise for a few hours afterwards.

For the umpteenth time he wondered if this was what he spent all those years preparing for: to support the Dzhou colonists’ pretensions of glory? Was it worth it to have to suck up to rich popinjays like “Captain” Win Ha, who had gotten command of the ship through political connections and influence? It certainly wasn’t his military knowledge or command ability; he’d amply demonstrated his failures in both areas.

Simon gritted his teeth. Sadly, the answers were yes and yes. The Fleet simply couldn’t afford to keep Pride—or any of Fleet’s other warships—in service unless the colony clients supported them. The end of the war had turned the Fleet into a bunch of damned mercenaries, begging for scraps from the colonies they once defeated or defended.

It hadn’t been like this during the dust-up, when the Fleet was the only force capable of keeping the colonies’ pitiful collection of warships from ripping into one another. Back then the Fleet had brought the civil war to a close, subdued the ambitious, and protected the uninvolved. Back then, nobody objected to the cost. Back then the Fleet was respected, honored, treated with the deference men and women willing to die had earned.

It was a shame that a good ship like Pride had fallen on such hard times. There should have been a better end to her, perhaps an honorable death in combat. She was a good ship; responsive to the helm, agile in motion, and strong enough to take multiple blinks without harming her structural integrity.

He’d joined the Fleet close to the end of the war, seen a battle or two—which was no more than sitting around imagining a distant blip turning into a cloud of debris while hoping they had not predicted your own track with equal accuracy. No dogfights, no close seventeenth-century-style encounters. No hand-to-hand combat. It was all long-range death and destruction. In the few years he’d fought he’d never seen the faces of those he killed. Never touched the bodies.

“Sir!” the Rating at the scanner exclaimed. He was a good kid, somewhat excitable, but disciplined enough on watch to overcome that characteristic. “I have a target.”

“Confirm,” Simon snapped back. There shouldn’t be anything out here, so far away from the path of incoming ships. Had to be an anomalous piece of junk or some drifting war relic.

“Moving at 1000 kps, sir,” scan reported. “Bearing true on our track.”

That was strange. The odds against two objects intersecting in deep space had to be astronomical.

“I’ve got confirmation,” visual chimed in. Simon switched to that display and saw a point of light. The time between its first appearance on the deep scans and visual sighting had been a matter of minutes.

If it was a hunk of rock he’d better get the ship out of its way, Simon realized. Well, no time to spin the drives up to microblink out of the way. “Rotate ship thirty degrees and pulse docking engines one quarter.” The warning klaxon sounded to alert everyone that the ship was maneuvering.

The stars slowly rotated as the gyros and steering jets turned the great ship. “Target closing fast,” scan and visual reported simultaneously.

We’re moving too damn slow, Simon thought. The dancing spot of light on visual had resolved into a bright, jagged object. “Fire engines half.” Even though Pride had rotated only fifteen degrees, that burst should push them out of the thing’s path.

“Object turning to match,” scan yelled. “It’s under power!”

Crap, that meant it wasn’t just a piece of ancient wreckage. “Vector?”

“Should intersect in 200 seconds, sir.”

Simon thumbed his headset to the command channel. “Captain Win Ha to the bridge. Possible hostile incoming.”

He turned his attention back to the object. “Signals?”

“No SIFF, sir. No response to ping.” comm watch reported instantly. Damn, that meant hostile for sure. Every ship was supposed to carry the identification-friend-or-foe beacon. “What’s on visual?”

“Looks like a, well, an iceberg, sir.” The Rating was obviously having trouble believing it herself.

“An iceberg?” Simon had to admit it did look that way as the enlarged display flashed onto his screen.

Win Ha’s voice cut into his thoughts. “What the devil is going on up there, Simon? Is this another of your damned Fleet exercises?”

The need for continual and repeated drills had been a bone of contention between them since Win Ha came on board. He simply didn’t seem to grasp the need for constant training that could spell the difference between life and death in an engagement. He was glad that Win Ha had remembered to use his headset. Pride’s Captain had not been too conscientious about such things in the past.

“Captain. I believe the object is . . .” He hesitated, not quite believing what he was about to say himself. “It’s an iceberg”

“An iceberg? Damn, this is another one of your stupid drills, then. All right, don’t do anything until I get there.” There was no mistaking the disbelief in the Captain’s voice.

“Object still maintaining bearing on us, sir—intersect in eighty seconds, sir.”

Where the hell was Win Ha? He should have been on the bridge by now. Suddenly Simon felt the full weight of responsibility. It was up to him to respond, to act.

“Arm weapons,” he ordered and prayed the colonist crew had been maintaining the equipment properly. “All track the object.”

No sooner was the order given than gunnery sounded the alarm, alerting everyone on shipboard to go to battle stations. Simon felt the pressure change as, throughout the ship, blast doors were slamming across the corridors, sealing the ship’s compartments into independent, survivable units.

“Damn it, Simon, what the hell are you doing up there? Why are we going to battle status?” Win Ha shouted. “Wait for me to get there.” Where the devil was he? He should have been in his rack, a few steps away.

“Signal on all frequencies. Flash the work lights on the hull,” he ordered, recalling safety protocols drilled into him in military school and reinforced in the war.

“Still closing, rate decreasing, sir,” scanner reported. “Turning parallel to our track, five clicks ahead.”

Simon watched the object take its position. It was close enough to see every detail. And what he saw wasn’t believable.

In all the years of exploration mankind had found no sign of intelligent life—no lost civilizations, no emerging intelligence, no evidence that offered humanity companionship against the long night.

Until now.

Up close the object looked like a chunk of ice—jagged in all directions. Try as he might, Simon could find no symmetry, no order to the structure. Instead it looked like a broken shard.

There was no indication of what propelled it—no observable drive tubes, no sail, nothing recognizable. There was a glow to the object, as if it were lit from within. The fore peaks glowed a barely noticeable pale red while those aft were tinted a faint blue.

Were those weapons and engines respectively, he wondered? “Are we recording?”

“Aye, sir, since we acquired the target,” visuals reported.

“Captain Win Ha, where are you now?”

“Aft 15, Bee, down five, bulkhead, uh, 15B20,” Win Ha replied. There was the grating sound of a hatchway slamming shut behind him. 15B20 was clear at the other end of the ship, near the boat docks, Simon realized. What had Win Ha been doing back there?

“I believe we have an alien vessel, sir,” he said, not quite believing it himself. He tried to recall the first contact protocols and drew a blank.

“Commander!” Simultaneous shouts from visual and weapons drove all else from his mind. He glanced at the visuals and went cold. The alien ship was turning while maintaining its position. The rosy peaks were now glowing a bright red.

They’re powering up their weapons, Simon thought. “Fire a warning,” he ordered and felt the ship shudder as the big repulsor fired. “Engines full!” They had to get away from it.

An instant later a starburst appeared near the trailing edge of the alien ship.

“What was that? Did you fire a weapon?” Win Ha screamed. “I told you not to . . .” Whatever he was going to say next was lost as the alien suddenly accelerated.

Simon didn’t wait for confirmation from scan or visuals. “Fire at will,” he shouted. “Fire at will!”

But the command was already too late. The alien had accelerated so quickly that the heavy weapons couldn’t be brought to bear. Simon felt the impact shake the ship as the alien struck and, an instant later, watched the command board go to red as reports flooded the comm lines. Alarms started ringing. “Fire aft,” came a report. “Hull breached at Aft 13, topside,” another chimed in.

“Damage control on line.” That command silenced the cries. From this point on the information pouring in from a dozen different stations near the impact zone would be handled by DC. Simon glanced at the visuals. The port viewer showed junk and—was that a body?—streaming from the side.

“Any other targets?” he asked, wondering if she could withstand another encounter.

“None detected,” Scanner replied. The quaver in his voice indicated that he wasn’t completely confident in the reliability of his equipment. Not after seeing the alien’s closing rate.

He thumbed Boats. “Chief, dispatch boats to retrieve anybody who went spaceside. That’s first priority. Then survey the damage and collect whatever you can find. There has to be something left of that thing we can salvage. Maybe even a survivor. Collect everything you can find.”

“Aye, sir,” the Chief replied.

Simon didn’t have to issue orders for damage control. Thanks to the drills, everybody on Pride knew what had to be done. He’d trained them well.

Gunnery spoke. “Sir, shall we maintain fire control, sir?” Simon nodded and a moment later sent a second order. “Third watch to the bridge.”

Win Ha burst onto the bridge, all indignation and bluster and, close on his heels, Commander Theresa Perry. “I’ll have your ass for firing weapons without my authorization, Commander. I told you . . .”

Simon was distracted momentarily. Why was Teri with him? She was supposed to be in her rack, getting her rest, not running around with the Dzhou Captain, screwing something else up.

As the third watch tumbled sleepily onto the bridge, Simon greeted Hank Sterns, his cabin mate. Lieutenant Sterns was a few years his junior and had no war experience. “Hank, we need to begin recovery operations.”

“Let the crew handle that,” Win Ha interrupted. “I want to know what happened. Why didn’t you wait for me? I am the Captain of this ship!”

Hank saluted and removed Simon’s key. “Sir, I relieve you.” He then keyed himself into the log.

Win Ha spoke again. “Damn right you are relieved. Teri, er, Commander Perry will take over damage control.”

“Sorry, sir, but Perry doesn’t know Pride as I do. Besides, she’ll need to help Sterns.” Then Simon was off the bridge and racing down the corridor toward the impact zone.

“You are confined to quarters,” Win Ha shouted. “You can’t disobey me like this!”

The center passageway lights on C deck flickered as Simon passed through the first set of hatches. “You’ll have to go back, sir,” a Rating, First Class said as he struggled to get his mask on. “We’ve got a fire in this section.” Simon could smell the ozone. Electrical, he thought as he retreated. He reported the event to damage control as he tried to find another route.

The outer passageway appeared to be clear of damage. It was a swarming mass of men trying to get to the damaged sections with their gear. Three Ratings and a swearing Chief-Third were struggling to free a hatch that had somehow jumped out of its track. The muscles on the men’s shoulders and arms stood out from the strain but the hatch would not budge.

Just at that moment a crewman in cook’s garb ran up with a huge metal pipe and inserted it into the bottom of the hatch. Everyone grabbed the edge of the hatch as the cook pried it straight. Finally, with a scream of tortured metal, the hatch came free.

The Chief was the first through. “Get a med kit,” he yelled over his shoulder. Simon saw a wounded man lying on the deck. In seconds medics pushed by and started treating him. Simon stepped back to let a well-disciplined salvage trio rush by with their breathing gear and cutting torches. He followed, continuing to report everything he saw in a steady monotone back to DC.

The damage looked worse the closer he got to where he thought the object had hit. The deck at this point looked as if it had been pushed up at an odd angle and several of the hatches were swinging free of their restraints. The deck was littered with an assortment of clothing and other loose items.

Damage control reported that compartment fourteen was the primary damage area. From all they could tell it had lost pressure within seconds of the impact. Simon checked the bulkhead—12C42—which meant that the damage extended across two compartments and deep into the center passageway.

Simon swore. To have damage this far from the impact meant the object had hit hard enough to warp the entire structure.

How many men had died in the impacted section he couldn’t determine. As he recalled, the section contained sleeping quarters, storage holds, and some command and control modules. He’d find out which later.

“What about twelve?” he demanded.

“Lost pressure, sir,” came the reply. Simon increased his pace.

He was gratified to see that there was no panic among the crew, even among the Dzhou crew. Well, maybe some of them were veterans, he thought. But although all of them appeared to be dazed, they continued to perform their drills, just as they were trained.

“Get your damned jujube asses over here and help get these panels out of the way,” a Chief in a filthy, torn one-piece, but with a Chief’s hat firmly on his head, ordered. Simon winced. Win Ha was hell on anyone who used that term.

“How goes it, Chief Forbes?” Simon asked, reading the nametag through the grime.

“We need medical help for the injured, some cutting tools, and at least one fire suppression Rating, sir. Aside from that, stay out of my way so I can get my men out of there.” He pointed to the bulkhead of section twelve.

Simon stepped back. He’d been around long enough to know when to accept orders from a Chief. This was no time for military formality. He repeated the Chief’s request to damage control. “Help’s on its way,” he said when he received confirmation.

At the far end of the section a Rating with a torch was enlarging a hole beside the hatchway. A group of men with a pressure tank and emergency equipment were patiently standing by. As soon as the glowing panels hit the deck his helpers tossed them out of the way into a nearby sleeping compartment.

“Need to enlarge this so we can get the pressure gear through, sir. There’s a slow leak and we’ve got to get around the jammed blast door,” one of them informed him as he waited for the next panel to fall.

This had to be the leaking section. He quickly ran through the assignment list and realized that twelve was the section assigned to the Fleet marines. Assuming they were all in bed at the time, there might be twenty marines trapped in there. “Estimated time?” he asked.

“Don’t know, sir. All I was told was to cut a big enough hole here.” The Rate with the torch wiped his brow as his helpers moved another red-hot section aside. “Probably another five minutes.”

Simon dropped down one deck and continued to work his way aft. All about him the crew were purposefully going about the business of recovery—trying either to rescue their shipmates, or to repair the damage done by the impact.

He recognized Signet Bam Sutra, the young Dzhou engineering officer, directing a work party. They were sealing a temporary emergency lock to a bulkhead. Inside the lock another crewman in full vacuum gear was cutting the outline of a man-sized hole.

“Glad to see you, sir,” Bam said. “What the hell happened? Are we under attack?” Simon could see the panic lurking behind the young officer’s eyes.

“Not any more, Signet. We’re safe now. What’s going on here?”

Bam checked his wrist pad. “Whatever we hit must have warped the hell out of the structure. Both the blast door and emergency hatches are jammed. I’m cutting through here so we can get around the blocked section.”

“How soon do you think you can get to our marines?”

Bam looked startled. “Marines? Damn, don’t tell me they were all in quarters. Never mind, let me speed things up a bit.”

Bam shouted for his work crew to line up at the emergency lock as the torch wielder continued cutting away at the bulkhead. Simon noticed that only half of the waiting crew had their helmets sealed. Things could get very nasty when they broke through.

There was a loud explosion and then a horrible whistling noise that steadily grew louder. “Breach!” someone shouted. Instantly every one of Bam’s crew sealed their helmets. The entire cut section had given way. Of the torchbearer there was no sign. The inner door of the lock had slammed shut immediately.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” The Chief pushed his men into the lock, slammed the hatch, and dogged it shut. In seconds all of his crew had opened the inner door and disappeared into the hole. The whistling continued until Bam sprayed the edges of the lock with some more sealant.

“No pressure inside. Poor bastards,” Bam muttered. Whether he meant his crew or the lost marines, Simon wasn’t sure.

“Damage control is ordering pressure barriers,” Simon told him. “Should be here soon.”

“Ask them to get a hull crew out as well,” Bam said as he pulled on his own vacuum suit. “Right now I have to get in there and see what needs fixing.” Then he turned and, with the Chief and another work crew, climbed through the lock.

Simon wondered if the young Signet would be able to bear up after seeing what combat damage and rapid decompression did to the bodies that were certain to be inside. Simon was pretty certain that none of those in the section would have survived the initial impact. Marines were tough, but not tough enough for this.

All Boatsman Han Tomis wanted to do was to put his hands on the controls of Hotsy, his boat. He loved hearing the disconnect bolts releasing his craft from its berth at Pride’s side and feeling her fly free.

Flying was the most wonderful thing he had ever done in his life. Out there among the stars he was one with the boat. His arms and legs were the tiny exhausts that moved the boat, his eyes the sensors that gave him spherical vision. He was an angel, a bird, a being so free of the mundane universe that his body felt like some clumsy puppet in comparison. In flying he felt happiness, he was fulfilled. He felt joy.

But, instead of flying free, he and Boats crewman Ming Ho were hooking their boat’s heavy panel covers into place, just as the Chief had ordered. Ho was fastening the bottoms to the clips while Han worked on the tops. Maneuvering the thick covers was hard work, especially since both of them had to wear the stupid safety gear. Han hated the awkward breathing gear that chafed his neck even more than the tight pressure suit that made movement awkward. But Boats Chief Willums was as tight on following regulations as he was on spit-shining the freaking decks of his precious boats.

It was so dumb to have to wear this safety gear when the boat was firmly secured in its berth. The access passageway was only three meters away, more than close enough to get out easily in case of an accident. He could clear the doorframe in two seconds—three maximum!

His arms felt like lead from moving the stupid padded covers in zero gee and his back was starting to tense up as well. Ming Ho seemed to be chugging right along, bless her little jujube heart. She seemed tireless, never complaining, never protesting, accepting every detail the Boats Chief handed out with equanimity. The perfect little crewman, wasn’t she?

The boat vibrated, startling him from his thoughts. “Did you feel that?”

Ming Ho tilted her head to the side. “Ship’s maneuvering.” Now that she mentioned it, he had heard the alarm ringing in the passageway, but had paid it little attention. There was always something happening.

The boat shook from a sudden sharp pulse. Han knew what that meant. “They fired the big gun. What the hell—”

Before he could complete the sentence the boat jerked sideways by a fierce jolt that rattled every loose part of the boat.

“We hit something,” Ming Ho announced as she hand walked along the net to the hatch. She did not seem alarmed at all.

Han, on the other hand, felt a bolt of pure panic. Pride was eight, maybe nine lights out from Dzhou. If anything happened to the ship there would be no way to get back. Oh, lord, why had he ever joined the Fleet?

“All boats, all boats.” The Chief’s shout over the comm brought him back from the edge of panic. “Launch all boats. Search and recover. Search and recover.”

“Shit!” Han drove himself toward the controls. Ming Ho had the hatch sealed before he was firmly anchored into the pilot’s console. With a flick of his wrist he blew the bolts that held Hotsy tight to the hull. A twist of the stick gave the side thrusters a quick squirt to clear the side of the ship.

He glanced along Pride’s side as Hotsy drifted away. The other two boats were still in place, meaning he’d gotten away first. “This is Six, Chief. We’re away. What are we searching for?”

The Boats Chief answered immediately. “Get around to the dorsal side, Tomis. Keep the channel open and tell me what you see.”

Han shrugged. “All right Chief. Well, things look pretty normal so far. I see Five starting to pull away. I’m passing over Four now and can see Three and . . .”

“What is it, Han?” The Chief yelled. “What’s the matter?”

Han made a choking sound as he fought to stay calm. “It’s a marine! A marine just floated by me, only he was all bloated and bloody and didn’t have legs and . . . Oh sweet Jesus, here’s another one! Chief, there’s a lot of shit floating around out here.”

“Ignore the bodies, Han. Tell me about Pride. Tell me what you see.”

Han took a deep breath and tried to ignore the carnage around him. “Looks like there’s a big dent, no, it’s a fucking hole in the hull! There’s all kinds of stuff coming from it, shiny and glittery in my lights. I can hear it hitting the hull, like sleet, only it couldn’t be because you can’t have ice in a vacuum can you, and—”

“Calm down, Tomis!” The Boat Chief’s bark drove everything else from Han’s mind. “Concentrate on doing your job.”

Han realized he’d been babbling. “Right, just do your job of search and recover,” he said to himself over and over.

“Put this on,” Ming Ho was floating behind him with the outer shell of his pressure suit in her hand. Hers was already on. She needed only to seal her helmet before she’d be ready to work in a vacuum.

Han snapped the shell around him and clamped his helmet tight to the ring coupling. “Comm check,” he said to make sure their intercom was working.

“Check,” Ming replied and gave him thumbs up as she popped the blower to evacuate the boat. She clipped her safety line to the deck. When the pressure light went out she opened the wide cargo hatch in the boat’s side and leaned out.

“Port side, dorsal, down twelve meters,” she directed and Han shifted the ship sideways and down with a practiced flick of the controls.

“Got it. Ahead slow.” He didn’t know what Ming Ho was pulling into the cargo bay and didn’t care. All he was doing now was following her terse commands and keeping an eye out for anything that might interest the Chief. He kept trying hard not to think of the bodies, but it didn’t work.

The debris cloud seemed to taper off behind Pride, stretching as far as he could see, glittering in his lights. Whatever they’d hit was probably far behind by now.

Ming Ho continued calling out directions in a steady monotone. Han glanced back at one point and saw that the net in the hold was filling with torsos, legs and arms, some unidentifiable bloody pieces, and large chunks of the glittery stuff. He didn’t take a second look, not even when he heard Ming Ho retching. He almost lost his own breakfast at that point.

“Umpf!” Ho’s grunt took him by surprise. He glanced back to watch her wrestling a huge hunk through the hatch. It didn’t look like anything from Pride. Looked more like a large piece of ice.

After that there were more bodies, more glittery trash, and trash from Pride. After a while the scene outside started to become depressingly familiar and he was able to distance himself from it, able to fly through the grisly galaxy of debris like an angel. As ever, there was only the boat and himself.

But he felt no joy.

“I’ve shut down the ship’s propulsion systems,” Hank Sterns reported as Simon was waiting for the engineering officer’s report. “Captain Win Ha wants us to head back to Dzhou immediately.”

Simon couldn’t believe his ears. Pride was horribly, perhaps fatally crippled, they had boats scouring the area and men working outside on the hull. Nobody knew the full extent of the damage yet. “He’s insane. We don’t know if the pods were damaged, if the struts are out of alignment, if the hull will hold. Any attempt to move could destroy the ship and kill the crew!”

“I told him that, Simon. But he doesn’t believe me. Says all of us Fleet officers hang together, as if this were some sort of plot to usurp his authority.”

“That’s par for the course. Tell him that I, as senior Fleet officer aboard, have declared that we are at war. You got that, Lieutenant? I hereby declare we are in a combat situation and in grave danger and that means Pride reverts to Fleet control.”

“Effectively taking all of the Dzhou officers out of command,” Hank replied. Simon didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling in anticipation of telling Win Ha to piss off.

“Right. Log my order. I’ll take the grief.”

Bam Sutra kept one glove on the guide rope as he made his way through the damaged section. The vacuum gave the scene an unnatural clarity. Sparkling particles swirled in the light. In the distance he saw the faint glow from the crew who’d preceded him.

He reached the first pair of his crew. They were cutting away at a spot where the deck had been thrust up and backwards, toward the stern. The bulkhead had been crumpled against the top of the passageway. The jagged edges, where the base of the bulkhead had been torn loose from the deck plates, left a gap. He knelt and peered through.

At first he couldn’t make sense of what his light revealed. All he could see was twisted metal, broken piping, and loose insulation. He thought for a moment, trying to form a three-dimensional image of this part of the ship and, as soon as he did, the mess began to make sense.

He was looking down two levels, through the remains of the first deck below him. Only there was too much structure for that area, so whatever they hit must have pushed the outer part of the ship into this section. “Widen this hole and rig me a line,” he ordered. “I need to get in there.”

Minutes later he was clambering through the gap, trying to make his way to the outer hull through the twisted metal wreckage. As he was worming his way through a crushed section his headlamp picked up a smear of bright red ice. It was subliming into a pink mist as he watched. Curious, he thought.

Another push forward revealed the source of the smear. It was the remains of someone crushed by a heavy beam. Parts of the man’s entrails twisted grotesquely as they were bumped by the randomly moving debris. There was no head to the body, or arms, as far as he could tell. Perhaps they were at the other end of the smear.

Strangely he felt no emotional response to this sight. It was just another damaged part he had to get by to find out what had happened to his Pride.

Another four minutes and he could see stars. The hull, the nearly impenetrable armored hull of the Hellion Class ship, had a crack, a rip, a tear about twenty meters long and four across. On either side of the opening the hull had been deformed.

He estimated that the dent was about sixty meters long and thirty wide. The longest dimension ran from bow to stern and was deepest toward the stern. The impact must have hit a glancing blow to make that sort of scar. He’d hate to think of what would have happened had Pride hit it directly.

He thumbed his radio. “Damage control. This is Engineering. Contact my hull crew. Tell them to remove the dorsal cowling from one of the engines and bring it to the damaged part of section Twelve. Alert my welders to join them. We’re going to have to put a patch on the hole and seal it tight.”

As soon as he got an acknowledgement he keyed Forbes. “Chief. Get a crew down here with some sealant and  something we can stretch across a hole—about two hundred square meters should do it. We’ve got to rig a patch inside so we can pressurize this volume. Hell of a mess down here.”

“You all right, Signet? You sound kind of funny.”

“Believe me, Chief, there’s nothing funny about it.” He was about to tell the Chief about the body, but thought better of it. No sense getting him upset.

Then he began surveying the rest of the damage.

A few hours later Bam stumbled from the emergency air lock.

“I know the situation,” Simon said as Bam removed his helmet and gloves. “But I want a personal assessment.”

Had the Commander been sitting out here all that time, Bam wondered? No, he must have come down when he got word that he was coming back out. That was Clay, no wasted effort.

Bam wiped the sweat from his forehead. After five hours in the suit he was starting to worry that the three-shift punishment he’d assigned one of the Ratings a few hours earlier might have been too harsh.

“We’ve almost got the breach sealed, sir. Put a temporary inner seal over the hole. Covered it with a layer of quick-setting plastic and squirted sealant around the edges.

“My hull crew is welding a cover they rigged from an engine cowling onto the hull. That and the inside patch should let us restore pressure to the section. If it holds we’ll know we haven’t missed some other leaks. It’s pretty messed up in there, but . . .”

“Anything else?”

Bam thought. “As I reported, there’s lots of internal damage where the hull was pushed in. Mostly panels smashed against one another. A couple of structural members were torn loose and . . .”

Simon waited for the Signet to finish. “Go on.”

“I . . .” Bam began. “There was . . . I saw . . .” Then he bent over and was violently ill, throwing up on Commander Clay’s uniform. He started crying and couldn’t stop. All he could think of was that sorry-assed guy who’d been smashed to a pulp, decapitated, and gutted by the ship that was supposed to protect him.

“What’s your assessment of the worthiness of the ship, Signet?” Clay demanded, ignoring the Signet’s obvious distress.

“I don’t know about the pods, sir,” Bam choked out as he wiped the puke from his chin. What the hell did Clay want him to say? They had to pressurize the section, get the bodies out of there, clean up the mess, and restore whatever vital systems might have been damaged. Just making a decent assessment was going to take hours, days maybe. He started to pull himself to his feet, slipping a little in a smear of vomit.

Simon looked at the Dzhou officer. He looked like hell, and probably felt worse, but he was the only man who could provide the answers Simon needed. “Get me what data you can in two hours, Signet. I want to know if Pride can get back home without killing us all.”

Simon was reviewing the damage control logs when Bam returned from his survey of the pods and struts. “You’ll be glad to know that we have four surviving marines,” he said to the young officer. “Turns out they were playing cards in the mess when we got hit.”

“That’s good news, sir,” Bam replied. He still couldn’t get the image of the dead man out of his head.

Simon shrugged. “Not really. Altogether thirty members of Pride’s complement are dead and at least an equal number have been injured.” He shrugged, trying not to think about that. Time enough later to grieve for them. “But that’s not important. I need to know what you found out. Is Pride in any condition to return to base?”

“The integrity of the ship’s hull is uncertain.” Bam replied. “According to what Scans reported, we must have hit the object at better than a thousand kilometers per second.” He still didn’t believe that number. There was no way Pride could have been moving that fast. “At that speed even a pebble could make a dent in Pride’s hull.”

“That thing was substantially larger than a pebble.”

Bam nodded. “Right. Based on the hull deformation and internal damage I figure that the object must have massed about five thousand tons. We’re damned lucky it didn’t take out one of the outriggers. Oh yes, there seems to be a lot of glass fragments floating around but we can’t figure out where they were coming from.”

“Pieces of the thing that attacked us, probably.” Simon handed Bam a fist-sized piece. “It looked like an iceberg, but glass would give it the same appearance.”

Bam turned the shard over in his hand. “An iceberg, sir?”

“Forget it. Just answer this—how much can we safely push Pride?”

Bam hesitated. “In my professional opinion, sir, Pride shouldn’t risk more than a microblink because of the damaged struts and the misaligned pods. The alignment is so bad we’ll have to make navigational fixes to be certain of where we emerge.

“Then there’s the hull. I wouldn’t trust the patch to take any more stress than it has to. Even then I’d keep my fingers crossed and make sure nobody was in that section.”

Simon swore. They were forty microblink jumps away from Dzhou. That many successive jumps meant even the most hardened crewman was going to get sick. By the time they got back to Dzhou he’d be lucky to have half the crew well enough to sit position. Forty jumps! The ship was going to reek of vomit and shit.

“I’ll want to inspect the repairs and the struts after each jump, sir,” Bam continued. “Best we keep the probability of failures as low as possible.” He didn’t look like he relished the job.

“Very well. That’s what we’ll do. But we’ll keep all the compartments sealed. Pride will remain on battle footing until we reach home.”

Win Ha did not look well when they entered Dzhou space and squawked for the tugs to take them in. “I am having you arrested,” he declared. His sallow skin tone spoke volumes of the toll repeated microblinks had taken on him. Win Ha had screamed for the bridge crew to speed their progress until sickness silenced him. “You have continued to thwart my command, delayed getting the injured crew back to proper medical care, and suborned my officers.”

Win Ha stepped aside as four burly crewmen surrounded Simon. “By your leave, sir,” one of them said as he slapped restraints on Simon’s wrists. “Please come with us.”

Simon followed. The bridge crew stood as they passed through. Hank Sterns saluted. Win Ha scowled.

There was a clank as the pilot’s boat attached itself to the Pride. A moment later the hatch opened and the Pilot stepped inside.

At that moment the four surviving Fleet marines stepped onto the bridge. All wore full armor and were armed. “We will escort our officer, if you please,” the squad’s sergeant said quietly.

Win Ha jerked. “You will not! This man is a prisoner on a Dzhou ship. He is under my command and will be tried in a military court for his insubordination.”

The sergeant listened intently. “I understand, sir, but my orders are to bring him home and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“This is outrageous. This is a violation of Dzhou sovereignty. I order you to get out of our way.”

Four weapons clicked to readiness. The bridge was completely silent. “I understand, sir. You’ll probably want to charge me for insubordination as well, but I’m escorting Commander Clay back to our base regardless.”

Win Ha turned to his men. “Well, are you going to let them do this?”

The nearest crewman stepped forward and tapped a marine on the chest with his finger. The marine batted the hand away.

“Well, looks like they beat us into submission, sir,” the crewman grinned. “Guess they’ll have to take Commander Clay after all.”

Simon watched the fascinating interplay of color as Win Ha’s face went from sallow green of nausea to the beet red of fury. He never knew the human face had such a broad spectral range.

The debriefing by Fleet intelligence was aggressive, thorough, and exhaustive. They had probed Simon’s every thought, his every reaction during the sequence of events culminating in the impact with the object.

Simon was certain that everyone on the bridge, from the Chief down to the ratings, was undergoing the same thorough interrogation. He hoped that none of them took offense. It would reflect badly on him were they less than professional about this dreadful incident.

The question Intel asked most often, and one that constantly preyed on his mind was this: Was the alien’s reaction due to fright at that warning burst or had its attack been a deliberate act of aggression?

No one seemed willing to suggest an answer.

There were piles of glass scattered around the lab when they escorted Simon into the room. From what he could see they appeared to have been sorted by size—two piles of smaller pieces on a tarp to the right, two piles of pebble-sized pieces next to them, and two piles of fist-sized pieces beyond that. On the left were three larger pieces, one the size of a man’s body, another somewhat longer and more slender, and a monstrous piece that looked far too large for Ming and Han to have pulled through their boat’s hatch.

“These appear to be nothing more than glass fragments,” the Chief investigator explained. “Considerably more dense than any glass we could make. It’s nearly pure, which argues against natural formation, and trace elements in some of the smaller pieces appear to be homogeneously distributed.” He paused and wiped his glasses.

“We found that there are two types of material, which is why there are two piles of each size. One is about four times the density of the other. Curious, wouldn’t you say?”

He didn’t wait for Simon to answer. “From what we can tell from the interviews”—he glared at Simon as if blaming him for having the object strike the area where the data was stored—“the object was moving quite rapidly and struck the ship at an oblique angle.” He demonstrated with his two hands. From that Simon deduced that the man had been a combat pilot at one point—probably before he lost his legs.

“If it hit at that angle there would have been tremendous sheer forces at play. The leading lower portion would have been destroyed on contact with Pride’s hull, which probably absorbed the greatest force and penetrated the hull. That’s where the grit and dust came from, we suspect. As the object continued along it would have been ground up along the surface of contact—that’s what produced the larger pieces—until most of the impact energy was absorbed.”

That tied with the damage Simon had seen. The deformation of the hull decreased toward Pride’s stern. But where was this leading?

“We estimate that the total time of contact was fifty microseconds—maybe less. From what we model of the encounter, that would be insufficient time to completely destroy an object of that size and mass without completely destroying Pride as well. That means the object must have fractured. The larger pieces here,” he waved a hand toward the three chunks. “are probably parts of the object that were furthest from the impact zone—the top of the object, if you will.”

Simon nodded. “Which means we’ve got a ship out there to find the rest, the parts that might still be intact?”

“Yes. But so far we’ve found nothing. By the time you got Pride home the pieces would have been scattered across an enormous volume of space. Even if we somehow managed to luck into your precise location we still wouldn’t be able to find anything smaller than a ship’s boat unless we get very, very lucky. Which makes these the only samples we have to work with.”

Simon picked up a small flat shard and ran his finger along one face. It felt greasy, cold, and slick. The weight was not what he expected—as light as the construction plastic they used on board the ship.

“How could something this light do all that damage?” he wondered aloud.

“Light? Let me see that.”

While the examiner felt the shard, Simon picked up another. This one had more heft to it. “This is different.”

“We’ve found there are two kinds of glass. The heavier stuff is really dense and forms most of the smaller grits and dust. Since that formed along the impact zone we suspect it was the outer coating of the object. The lighter pieces probably represent the interior of the object. This piece, however”—he continued to rub the shard Simon had handed him—“seems to be a third type. Hmmm, we’ll have to examine this one closer.”

The rest of the meeting was perfunctory and a repetition of his intelligence briefing. Although they appeared attentive, Simon had the definite impression that they were more anxious to check the new type of glass than they were to hear his personal account of the encounter.

“You can go now, Simon,” Commander Nolan, the Intelligence head announced. “You’ve said nothing new recently so I think we’ve hit the limit on what we might learn from you.”

“You had everything a week ago, including the records.”

Nolan shrugged. “Yeah. Pity most of the records were destroyed by the impact. What’s left is in such poor shape that it doesn’t tell us anything that’s going to help the next guy who runs into these things.”

Simon came alert. “You said ‘these things.’ Were there others and why the hell weren’t we briefed?”

“I can’t say, Commander. But it stands to reason—where there’s one there’s bound to be more, don’t you think?”

So much for any hopes of getting a straight answer from Intelligence. “Can I get out of here and back to my quarters now?”

Nolan stood. “You’ll be under guard until the trial, Commander. Seems the Dzhou Navy has brought charges against you.”

That was a shock. “Charges? You can’t be serious.”

“Disregard of a direct order, unauthorized discharge of a weapons system, and reckless endangerment. I think they threw out the moppery and foppery charges.” Nolan grinned to show how seriously he considered the Dzhou allegations. “Don’t worry, Admiral Taylor’s a good man. He takes care of his own.”

Simon sincerely hoped so.

The funerals were depressing, long, and continual. Simon attended every one. As best he could he attended the Dzhou rites, but under an armed escort to keep the Dzhou military from getting their hands on him.

“We commit these souls to the ground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .” Simon knew the words by heart and was able to time the first notes of Taps to the microsecond. Even though he knew the ceremony by heart he still felt the tears roll down his cheeks when that first note sounded, no matter how much he tried to hold back. These men, these women, these people were members of his crew, people he’d sworn to guide and protect.

Was he responsible for their deaths? The thought that he might somehow have averted the disaster haunted him. Night after night he went over the entire scenario, from the first sighting to the impact, wondering what he might have done differently.

And with each funeral he wished he could have saved them.

Premier Tu’un stared at the other two men in the room. On one side of the table sat Senator Ma and Admiral Peng, head of the Dzhou Navy. Facing them was Senator Mn Ah of the conservative faction and Ma’s fiercest opponent, and General Sur, Chief of intelligence. At the far end of the table sat Schwen Wei, the Premier’s most trusted advisor.

“I find the entire incident outrageous,” Ma said in a low, even voice. “This damaged ship is an insult to our military force, our government, and our people. For too long we have suffered the Fleet’s disrespect.”

“I understand your anger, Ma, but I fail to see what this has to do with the alien vessel,” Senator Mn Ah said.

“Alleged alien vessel, Senator,” Admiral Peng corrected. “All we have is the Fleet’s report.”

General Sur leaned forward. “I understand none of the Dzhou crew were on the bridge during this encounter. Why is that?”

Admiral Peng looked down at the tabletop. “I understand that Captain Win Ha did not think it fitting that the Dzhou crew should have to stand second watch on a training mission.” He paused. “He now questions that decision.”

Mn Ha smiled. He well knew the sort of discipline Peng brought to bear when someone caused him embarrassment.

General Sur cleared his throat. “There is the small matter of extensive damage to the ship, several lost lives, and the remains of the attacking vessel. I believe that could be considered evidence.”

Ma dismissed the words with a shrug. “A few shards of what might be a glassy piece of rock that might have been floating around for a million years.

“Based on the scrap of video we have it’s more likely that this hotheaded Fleet Commander ran the ship into it, then concocted this story about aliens.”

“So you deny the visual record?” General Sur asked.

“Given to us by Fleet Intelligence,” Ma replied. “It is possible that they doctored the visual and voice records from the interrogations before giving them to us. You do know our attempts to question the crew directly have been rebuffed?”

Premier Tu’un raised an eyebrow. “An interesting theory, Senator Ma, but tell me this: What possible motivation would Fleet have to inflict such damage on one of their own ships? Especially since they can barely afford to maintain them without our support?”

Ma pushed a sheet of paper down the table. “This is an extract of our contract with the Fleet. Give particular attention to the line I have marked.”

“Article 34, paragraph B.3.4.23. Ah, yes, I remember it well.”

Admiral Peng snorted. “This is no time for jokes, Tu’un.”

“‘. . . and exigencies that may override this agreement.’”

“Exactly.” Ma said with a wicked grin. “I believe Fleet has concocted this story of alien invasion to get out of their obligation to continue to train our forces in space maneuvers. I believe this is an attempt to try to break the contract. It is no secret that there have been serious disagreements between Fleet officers and ours.”

Peng nodded vigorously. “Serious disagreement is an understatement and it extends beyond the line. Admiral Taylor refuses to accept his subordinate role to me. In fact, he acts as if he is holds the real power.”

“Are you suggesting that Taylor’s people intend to use this incident to exert military power over us?” Mn Ah said. “Or to depart the system entirely?”

“Which would leave our forces without a space navy,” the Admiral said. “Leaving us defenseless, not only against other colonies, but against the Fleet itself.”

“A military coup,” Ma added. “It is possible.”

“Ridiculous,” Senator Mn Ah shouted. “Taylor has no such notions. He is an honorable man.”

Ma sneered. “Of course you would say that. It isn’t your army that’s suffering under his boot.” General Sur stiffened, but said nothing.

The Premier considered the sheet before laying it down. “I shall take this matter under consideration. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Senator. I imagine this will be the subject of floor debate when the council convenes.”

Ma smiled, Mn Ha glared, and the two military men kept their expressions guardedly neutral.

The Premier sighed. He did not need another floor argument that would continue the rift within the council. There were more important issues to be discussed—disaster relief for the equatorial region devastated by floods, maintenance of Olympia, the decomposing orbital laboratory, and amendments to the Rights of Man document that had founded this colony.

But he could not take sides. As Premier he had to maintain a balance between opposing points of view, had to remain neutral in case he had to cast the final, deciding vote. If he did not carefully guard that neutrality, Ma or Ah would replace him in a heartbeat.

After both parties had left the room the Premier looked at his advisor. “Well, Schwen Wei, do you seriously believe this alien is some sort of ruse?”

Schwen Wei leaned back in his chair. “Was there an alien artifact? Probably. Did it attack the ship or did the ship accelerate to smash into it? I favor the former and doubt the latter. As to whether Fleet doctored the evidence to protect themselves—most certainly.” He paused. “On the matter of breaking the contract I would state that highly unlikely.”

The Premier chuckled. “That’s what I like about you—always giving me a straight answer. But I agree with your assessments. The question now is what we shall do about it.”

Schwen Wei answered immediately. “I have sources within the Fleet who can find out the truth of the matter, but that will take time. It is my estimation that Ma and Peng want to use this incident to discredit the Fleet and gain support for their faction.

“In the short term I think Peng will insist on making an example of the Fleet officer who created the problem. He did, after all, disobey a direct order from Captain Win Ha—”

“Who we both know is Ma’s selection and a pompous ass.”

“And it is Ma who controls the funds for the Fleet,” Schwen Wei added thoughtfully. “One cannot easily argue against the purse. Peng believes that the Fleet will go to any lengths to protect its personnel and, by doing so, make themselves more vulnerable to offering concessions.

“Therefore we must do something to appease the Admiral’s honor, but without destroying the balance of power between Ma and Mn Ah.”

The Premier chuckled. “Always the strategist, aren’t you? Well, I’ll never play games with you, that’s for certain.”

“So I should activate my contacts in the Fleet?” Schwen Wei asked.

“I cannot tell you to do that,” Tu’un said. “But neither can I stop you. I am, after all, completely neutral in military matters.”

Admiral Taylor couldn’t believe his ears. Instead of bringing all of their resources to bear on protecting themselves, the Dzhou Navy insisted on persecuting Commander Clay for doing his duty. Crap, they should be awarding him a medal instead!

“We insist that Commander Clay be given over to us so that we may try him,” the immaculately uniformed Dzhou Lawyer-Captain insisted when he delivered Captain Win Ha’s charges. He was a small man, barely chest high to Taylor. He had a thick shock of blonde hair that must have taken hours to set into those complex waves and curls, Taylor thought as he brushed his own close-cropped head.

“I will accept the charges,” Taylor said slowly as he glanced at the official document. “But I’m afraid that the Commander must be tried under the Fleet Code of Military Justice. He is a Fleet officer.”

“And he was on a Dzhou warship,” the lawyer shot back, making his curls jiggle. “Under the command of an authorized Dzhou Captain. That means that he falls under Dzhou laws, Dzhou codes, and the Dzhou justice system.”

Taylor had no doubts about the sort of “trial” the young Commander would face were the Dzhou to get their hands on him. “I shouldn’t need to remind you that all Fleet personnel are under my command. They support Dzhou officers only at my discretion.”

“That is intolerable, sir! My Admiral insists that you follow the terms of the Fleet contract. The honor of the Dzhou forces demands satisfaction.”

Taylor grimaced. That damned “honor” of theirs was a constant pain in the ass. How could he take such a statement seriously from someone who wore his hair like that?

“I repeat; Dzhou law has no jurisdiction over a Fleet vessel in free space, Captain. None whatsoever. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

The lawyer wasn’t out of the office for an hour when Admiral Peng called, ostensibly to talk about the schedule for the near-space exercises that were to take place the following week. “I understand you are having a problem getting supplies for your ships,” he said after the schedule was settled.

Taylor tried not to let his anger show in his voice. “You damn well know the problems we’re having getting funds, Peng. That’s hardly a secret.” Then Taylor realized what the call was really about. Peng wanted him to turn over Commander Clay. If he did that, then the funding might suddenly be released, or at least a part of it.

But that made no sense. Why would Peng endanger his own men, fail to prepare for the possible alien attack, just to prosecute a lowly Commander? There must be some other issue at stake, something having to do with the complexities of Dzhou politics, but he had no idea of what that might be. Nor did he care.

Just the same he was not about to turn on his own officer. He was not going to sell his own honor, regardless of the price. “I am certain that the funding will be forthcoming eventually. But Commander Clay will be tried in a Fleet court, following the Fleet Code of Justice. I will have it no other way.”

“I demand that the Dzhou Navy be represented on the Board, Admiral.”

Taylor thought hard. There was probably a clause in that contract that required their presence. He’d have to check on that. “I’ll take that up with my Advocate, but I see no reason why we can’t accommodate you.”

“You will assure me that justice will be done,” Peng said. “It is a matter of honor.”

“Justice will be done,” Taylor replied. “I promise you that.”

“Excellent,” Peng replied brightly. “I knew you were a man I could reason with.”

Moments after closing the conversation Taylor sat back and reviewed the conversation. What had he missed that made Peng so happy?

Simon entered the room, took three steps forward and saluted the Board.

“Be seated, Commander,” Admiral Taylor said. Simon noted the lines of stress etched on the old man’s face. The Admiral must find this distasteful as well, he thought.

“Yes sir!” Clay snapped back and sat stiffly erect in the offered chair; hands folded in his lap and hat secured under his left arm. Best make a good show of this, he thought. Probably get a black mark in his record and an ass-chewing from the jujube Captain Win Ha, but he’d faced worse. Nobody could deny that he’d done everything right.

There were four senior Fleet officers and one noncom seated on the Board. Admiral Taylor, Captain Tassledorf, Commanders Byle and Sinte, and Fleet Chief Gundarsten. Admiral Peng and General Sur were observers for the Dzhoubean military.

Simon looked at the Board. Their faces had become very familiar to him during the first phase of this mock trial. As before, the Fleet’s members wore guardedly neutral expressions. The jujubes’ were openly hostile. Terrible shame they’d be disappointed, he thought. The Fleet wasn’t about to sacrifice him—everybody knew that. The amount of power and prestige on the Board showed that.

The Admiral folded his hands before him. “Commander Clay, do you understand the charges Captain Win Ha has brought against you?”

“Yes, sir. I do.” For a second his mind flashed back to the previous week.

“Just keep your bearing, Commander,” his counsel had said. “Answer simply and directly. Don’t embellish, don’t exaggerate, and for God’s sake, wipe that smirk off your face!”

Clay tried. “Sorry, sir, but I just have a hard time taking this seriously. Pride was under attack. There were over a hundred men and the ship at risk. I did what I thought best.”

Council nodded. “Good, but don’t sound angry. The Board is interested in hearing the facts—the facts, not a pile of bullshit.”

“Sir, you do believe what I reported, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Commander. I wouldn’t be defending you otherwise.”

“Now who’s bullshitting, Commander? You were assigned this duty.”

“True, but I do believe you, no matter how hard it is to believe. Well, it’s time. Let’s go.” They marched into the hearing room.

The hearing went as he expected. Council had him tell the story and produced the transcripts of the debriefings to bolster what he’d said earlier. He also produced substantiating records of the rest of the bridge crew, all of whom reported the same sequence of events.

“Tell me, Commander,” the prosecutor said softly. “Have you read the reports that accompanied the charges?”

“Yes sir.” Clay tried to keep his face under control. Win Ha had made three charges—reckless endangerment of a Dzhou vessel in deep space, failure to obey a direct order, and discharge of weapons without proper authorization. Ridiculous, all of them.

The report had been brief. According to Win Ha, and substantiated by Commander Perry, they had felt the ship maneuvering, then accelerating. Shortly after, the weapons fired and the ship ran into something that damaged the hull.

“The conclusion that could be drawn from this testimony,” the prosecutor said, “is that you thought you’d give your men a little target practice on a rock you detected, misjudged its distance and speed, and then fired to knock it off course.”

“No, sir. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“According to your own testimony, you had several minutes between telling gunnery to arm weapons and actually firing them. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes, sir. But there . . .”

“Did you request Lieutenant Sterns to authorize use of the weapons? It would have taken maybe ten, fifteen seconds I believe.”

“I didn’t think of that at the time, sir. Things were happening too fast.”

“But you had time to consult with Captain Win Ha, didn’t you? What did he say about arming the ship?”

“I didn’t ask him, sir.”

“What did he tell you to do, Commander?”

“To do nothing until he reached the bridge, sir. But that was before—”

The prosecutor didn’t wait for him to complete his answer. “Immediately upon hearing this you went to battle status, shutting the blast doors, and sealing Captain Win Ha four compartments away from the bridge.”

“That is not the way it was, sir.” Simon insisted.

Things had gone downhill from there. Even the testimony from intelligence, which did not normally testify in court, was disappointing. The fragments of the alien they found were nothing more than shards of glass containing a smattering of trace chemicals. There had been no instrumentation, no organic materials, nothing that would indicate how it drove itself at such speeds, managed to maneuver, or exhibit color changes.

Sink Tao, one of the Dzhou scientists, reported on the four types of glass among the debris—the heavy material that probably coated the exterior, the softer, lighter interior material, a very dense thread of glass that ran through some of the pieces, and the greasy material Simon had accidentally discovered.

“It is very strange,” Tao said of the greasy material. “It’s composed of a layering of extremely thin sheets, somewhat like mica, but on a microscopic scale. That is what gives it this characteristic feel. With sufficient force—about two million dynes—you can actually deform the shard without shattering it. The dielectric properties are also quite interesting . . .”

“That’s all very interesting,” the prosecutor said, cutting the scientist off. “But does it shed any light on what happened? Does it tell us if the ship ran into the object or if the object drove itself into the ship as Commander Clay and his tame crew contend?”

“No. It does not. As far as we can tell the pieces are completely inert—merely different types of glass.”

But, Simon’s counsel contended, the technical testimony mattered little. It was Clay’s interpretation of events in lawful command of the ship that mattered.

But that was last week. Now he had to hear what the Board considered appropriate punishment for protecting his ship from an alien attack and the orders of an incompetent captain.

* * *

“The Board has considered the charges and reviewed the facts presented in your defense. Are you prepared to hear our judgment, Commander?” Admiral Taylor scowled. It was obvious he thought the entire trial a charade.

Clay came to his feet and stood at attention. “I am, sir.”

Admiral Taylor cleared his throat. “Under Article 110 of the Fleet Code: Reckless endangerment of a Dzhou vessel in deep space, we find that the evidence is not sufficient to prove that the events were as you reported or as the remainder of the ship perceived them to be.” For this reason this charge is invalidated.”

Simon felt relief. Article 110 was the most serious of the charges, the one that could cost him his commission and probably a lengthy spell in the brig. The rest of the charges were equally without merit and would be equally dismissed.

“The Board upholds the charge of discharge of weapons without proper authorization, under Article 92: Failure to obey order or regulation, to be substantiated by the record and by your own admissions,” Taylor read. “By regulation, another officer should have validated that order. You did have sufficient time to contact other officers and failed to do so.”

Simon felt sick to his stomach. It had to be the Dzhou who pushed that through. No Fleet officer would do that to him—but obviously at least one of them had. But perhaps he deserved that. There had been time to call Hank. He could have called.

Taylor watched Clay as he read the last charge. This was the most distasteful part. “Under Article 90: Willfully disobeying a superior officer, we find that the order to stay was valid. Captain Win Ha was the lawful command aboard the ship. Since you failed to explain the situation and obtain permission to act, your actions were precipitous and perhaps caused an alien vessel to be destroyed.”

Simon felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Of all the charges, this was the most ridiculous. Win Ha should have been readily available to the bridge during third watch, not back in stores doing whatever with Perry. If he’d been where he was supposed to be he could have been on the bridge in seconds. But then, that could have cost them all their lives. Win Ha never would have tried to move the ship, would never have believed the ship to be in danger until it was too late.

Taylor and the other Board members stood. “In accordance with the Fleet Code of Military Justice, and with a majority of the Board in agreement, you are reduced in rank to Under-Lieutenant, effective immediately.”

“I protest!” Admiral Peng was on his feet, shaking his fist at Taylor. “Firing on a defenseless alien, destroying mankind’s chance to communicate with our alien brothers, another starfaring race, is beyond serious: it is a grave offense! The man should be hung, not demoted!”

Clay didn’t flinch at the outburst, his expression didn’t change. “I hear and understand the Board’s determination,” he responded, fighting back the tears.

Taylor wondered about Peng’s outburst. During the Board’s deliberations Peng had appeared to be the biggest skeptic of the alien ship theory. What was he trying to do?

“May I remind the Admiral that he is here as an observer and remains only by my leave. This is a military court under the Fleet code. If anyone else makes an outburst I will have the Sergeant-at-Arms remove them. Is that clear?” He didn’t bother to look around to see if they understood.

Now came the worst part, the part he had to concede to the Dzhou sense of honor. Don’t crack, Clay, he thought. Be professional and show these damned Dzhou what a Fleet officer is made of.

Admiral Peng walked around the table and stopped in front of Simon. “You have no idea of how much pleasure this gives me,” he whispered as he removed Clay’s bars. “I still think you need to be hung.” He dropped the bars to the deck and stepped on them as he returned to his seat. The crack as they shattered under his boot sounded like the springing of the hangman’s trap.

“By regulation and with the authority invested in me by the FCMJ,” Taylor continued, “You will be reassigned to the next available Fleet ship outbound. Until such a ship docks you shall be restricted to the base to perform such duties as assigned.”

The two Dzhou hastily conferred. “This was not what we requested,” Peng said. “I thought we agreed that he be remanded to our authority.”

Admiral Taylor grinned. “That will not be possible, Admiral. The Fleet code is quite clear about immediate reassignment of a demoted officer. He cannot be released until such time as his ship arrives and comes under the command of its Captain. You, of course, can then negotiate with that party.”

Peng stormed out of the hearing room. “You have not heard the last of this!”

Clay saluted. His arm felt as if it were made of lead. “If the Board has no further need for me, sir.” He turned smartly on his heel and strode from the room. Only Chief Gundarsten had returned his salute, but the rest of the Fleet brass had smiles on their faces. Were those smiles at seeing him pilloried or because Taylor had put a stake up the jujubes‘ behinds, he wondered? Some of them had to have voted for his sentence.

“I didn’t see it coming,” his counsel said apologetically once they were out of the room. “You should have had a slap on the wrist at worst. I’ll appeal, but it will probably take until after you’ve shipped out before we get another hearing.”

Simon couldn’t believe it. His whole world had just been shattered and this lawyer wanted to put him through it again? “Why bother?”

“Just to get it off your record,” counsel advised. “Well, let me see what I can do. Sorry, Simon. I did my best.” He hurried away, probably to another hearing.

The Admiral’s aide, Kit Wilkerson, stepped forward. He held out a set of brown enamel disks. “Pin these on before you leave, Under-Lieutenant Clay. Admiral hates to see a Fleet officer undressed.”

Still numb at the sudden change, Simon did as he was told and followed Kit to a waiting car.

As they headed for Simon’s quarters, Kit relaxed. “I guess you know you got off easy, Simon. The Admiral had to apply every trick he could to keep the jujubes from getting their hands on you.”

“But why? I couldn’t risk the ship,” Simon said. “It’s unfair. I didn’t do anything wrong!” He wondered how many times he’d have to say that before he fully believed it himself. The brown disks on his collar said otherwise.

“It was bad enough that I had to suffer that fool Sur’s laughter afterwards. One would think he enjoyed seeing me shamed.” Schwen Wei was weary of hearing Peng’s endless repetition of how insulted he had been at Taylor’s betrayal. “I thought Taylor understood our bargain. I thought the man had at least a shred of honor in him,” Peng complained over his dinner.

“I doubt that Taylor understood the agreement as you did, Admiral. The Fleet protects its own, as you well know.”

Peng shook his fist. “This is an outrage! We cannot allow him to escape justice. We must make an example of this hot-head.”

Schwen Wei shook his head. “The Premier would not be pleased were you to take overt action, Admiral. The officer who so offends you has been demoted and soon will be removed from our presence. He has been shamed by his own command. That is sufficient punishment, I should think.”

Peng swore. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to face my officers and men. They want blood. I have to make an example of this pipsqueak Fleet officer. I have to show my men that even a Fleet officer cannot dishonor our officers. I have to show my control over these Fleet mongrels.”

“Give Win Ha another promotion to salve his hurt feelings. Make him an Admiral and give him a nice safe office on the surface. Perhaps logistics would be a good position.”

“You don’t understand my position. Ma’s entire faction wants a protective Dzhou Navy presence, preferably without Fleet interference. We will never get that so long as the Fleet stands in our way.”

More likely they want the Fleet gone so they can seize control of the trade lanes as they had during the civil war, Schwen Wei thought. “As I told you, Tu’un cannot condone any direct action against the Fleet. I would advise you against direct action.”

“That is your final word, then?”

“It is mine, and the Premier’s.”

“But were this mongrel to disobey Taylor’s orders . . .”

“The personal decision of a Fleet officer is not my concern,” Schwen Wei said. “But actions by you are. I recommend caution.”

“I understand.” Admiral Peng smiled and bowed his head. It was gratifying to have the advice of the someone so close to Premier Tu’un.”

Taylor would soon learn the price of betrayal.

Morning started, as usual, with the nightmare state of half sleep when Simon’s mind took him through every agonizing minute of the trial and sentencing. The memory had sharp edges that cut deeply into his heart. He wouldn’t touch his chest, fearing he’d feel the blood pouring out.

But there was never any wound, never any sign of physical damage. However, the emotional damage, the deep insult to his very concept of himself as a loyal and trusted Fleet officer, would not show.

After pulling himself from the pit of despair, Simon rose, worked out in the base gym, showered, ate breakfast at the mess, sitting apart from the other officers, and then reported to the Officer of the Day. As he had every other day since the trial.

“Got a nasty one for you today, Under-Lieutenant—inventory duty. The jujubes delivered sixteen rail cars of supplies last night and they have to be transferred to the warehouse.”

Simon groaned. Inventory duty meant checking the invoices against the boxes that had arrived. Although he didn’t have to handle the boxes himself he still had to ensure that every box, every item was accounted for. The Dzhou merchants had tried to short-list them before so this hands-on checking was necessary. Sixteen rail cars meant two days of boredom.

At least it was better duty than Officer-of-the-Day.

A week and forty rail cars later, even an Officer-of-the-Day assignment was starting to appeal to him. He had pulled every shit duty on the base at least twice and was likely to do them another couple of times.

The worst part of the demotion was having to salute the junior officers he’d been training months before. He took it as a sign of respect that they all smiled to show they knew how he must feel. But he doubted they really understood, not down at gut level where it hit him.

What would his father, his family think when they got word of his demotion? In two hundred years of military service he was the first officer in his family to be demoted. Others had been disciplined: His grandfather had been a rebel throughout his career, never rising above Commander. From the stories he’d heard, grandpa had faced more than one Board of Review and managed to scrape by every time. Unlike Simon.

When was a ship coming in to take him away?

“Nothing on the arrival log,” Kit said as he joined Simon in the mess.

“Thanks, that saves me a trip,” Simon replied. Twice a day he checked the inbound logs to see if they’d received a signal from an incoming Fleet ship and had been continually frustrated at the negative replies.

“Back during the war there would have been a dozen or more arrivals and departures listed every day,” Kit said as the waiter brought their dinner. “Back then we had ships bound for distant systems or going out on patrol duty. Now we have to wait for months between ships.”

Simon agreed. “Another damned sign of how far the Fleet has fallen.”

Kit agreed. “Want to hear the latest?”

“About the alleged alien vessel?” Simon replied bitterly.

Kit smiled and tossed a sliver of glass onto the table. “Look at that. Be careful, though. I have to sneak it back to the lab before they notice it’s missing.”

Simon picked up the tiny shard and turned it over in his hands. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it. There were two long grooves across one face. “Somebody try to take a sample?”

“Nope.” Kit tapped the fragment with his finger. “Turn it around.”

Simon twisted the fragment in his hands and examined the broken face of the piece. He spotted several holes, each a tiny, precise rectangle in cross section.

“The grooves are where those channels are exposed,” Kit explained. “All of the channels or whatever the hell they are have less than a fraction of a percent difference in their dimensions.”

Simon felt the object. “This is part of the interior material, then?”

“Quick on the uptake, aren’t you? Maybe you should have gone into Intelligence instead of combat. You’ve got the brains for it.”

“Brains aren’t helping me now,” Simon replied. “Damn it, Kit, I’m bored to the teeth.” He handed the shard back.

“Buck up. At least you don’t have to deal with that jerk-off Ha-ha any more.”

Simon smiled. The Admiral’s aide was one of the few officers who went out of his way to be friendly since the trial. Most of the others probably think the crap will rub off, Simon thought.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “I mean, don’t you have to do something for the Admiral?”

Kit leaned close. “This is my to-do. Taylor told me to keep an eye on you. No telling what those jujubes will do now that their precious honor’s been harmed.”

“Do you think they’ll try something on base?” Simon asked. The idea that he was worth kidnapping was ludicrous on the face of it. He was just a junior officer now, not some strategic power. Ridiculous!

“We have a lot of Dzhou on base—our waiter, for example. No telling which one will slip a blade into you.” Kit looked dead serious for a moment and then grinned. “Naw, they don’t want you dead—they just want you for a show trial.”

Simon thought about the railcars. It had been just him and twenty Dzhou laborers. It would have been easy for them to smuggle him off the base in one of the empty rail cars. Suddenly Kit’s warning didn’t sound so ridiculous.

“Listen, you stay around people whenever you’re out and about and you’ll be all right, I’m sure.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Win Ha was furious when Peng reported on the outcome of the trial. “I can’t believe that they let him get off so easily. I am the Captain. It was my order he disobeyed. It was my weapons he wasted. It was my ship he damaged!” His voice rose with each wounded accusation.

“You must do something about this,” Win Ha said.

Peng brushed that aside. “The Premier will not support any overt action on my part. It is you who must avenge your own honor.”

Win Ha wailed. “But what can I do? Clay is no longer in my crew. That is, my crew whenever you get Pride of Dzhou repaired.”

“Our ship,” Peng corrected. It was costing an enormous amount to have the damage repaired, even without the additional modifications. Did Win Ha think Ma was an endless source of funds?

There were limits to what the Dzhou Navy could afford. Repairing Pride’s damaged hull and the destruction inside was expensive enough. The cost of adding weapons pods, increasing the munitions load, and upgrading the power systems was outrageous and, in his opinion, wasteful. Pride’s weapon systems alone were superior to anything another colony could muster, so why did the Fleet think it needed this extra armament? They certainly didn’t expect him to believe that story about an alien invasion, did they?

“You are a man of action, Win Ha,” Peng continued, all too aware of the anguish of his officer. “You must act if you are to erase the dishonor you received.”

“Fleet officers are supposed to follow our orders, not go off and do something on their own. What if we were attacked and they refused our orders to fight? What would we do then? Yes, I must do something that will show them who is in command.”

Peng smiled. “I am glad you see the necessity. We need to stop this sort of insubordination. We need to make an example of this man.”

Win Ha thought hard. “I could take him into custody, I suppose.”

The Admiral sat back. “But he will be confined to base until a ship arrives. After that he will be beyond your reach. How will you overcome that?”

“I know someone who could manipulate Clay into our hands. Someone quite willing to betray him.”

“You have a spy? How interesting.”

“Shall we say a confidant, someone I trust and who has much to gain for doing what I ask. Yes, and if Clay disobeys orders and leaves the base he will be vulnerable. After all, who would defend him if he violates his own code of conduct?” He was about to expand on a plan, but stopped. “I’d best say no more.”

“A smart decision,” Peng replied. “What I do not know, I can’t disclose. Let me know what support you will need when the time comes.”

“I’ll probably need some rapid transport,” Win Ha answered immediately. “I’ll need to get him as far away as I can.” he thought for a moment. “Why not our orbiting station? That’s under Dzhou control and law. Yes, and it completely removes Clay from sight.”

“I am delighted that you’ve taken such firm control of the situation, Win Ha. Perhaps there might be a promotion for you if you are successful.”

Win Ha brushed the compliment aside. “I will let you know the time and place to have the shuttle ready.”

Simon was in the mess, contemplating whether he should have a second helping of pie. He had put on a few extra pounds since he’d been given base duty, despite his most strenuous efforts in the gym. He glanced up when someone sat down opposite him.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Commander Perry smiled at him. “I’ve been assigned planet-side until the repairs are complete, Under-Lieutenant.” Suddenly her smile took on a different meaning.

“Don’t rub it in,” he said. “You know what really happened.”

“Well, I will admit that I think it was unjust,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy our new relationship, does it?”

“We don’t have a relationship, Teri. I was never your friend.”

“Oh, but you were. How else could I have learned without all the assignments you gave me? I learned all about mid-watches, about counting every fucking rivet in the hull, about doling out sheets of toilet paper, and enjoying the endless pleasures of checking quarters and heads for cleanliness. I owe you a lot, Under-Lieutenant Clay.”

“You enjoy saying that, don’t you, Commander?” Suddenly the prospect of a second slice of pie didn’t seem so appealing. He started to get up.

Teri touched his arm. “Now, now, don’t get yourself upset, Simon. I’m just trying to make friendly conversation. There aren’t that many people around to be friendly with.”

“Single men, you mean,” Simon shot back. “Sorry, not interested, Commander.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. What I meant was that I wanted to make amends, sort of patch things up between us. I know I’m inexperienced, but you’ve got to admit I worked hard at everything you assigned me.”

That was true, Simon reflected. Teri’s problem could be laid to her inexperience, despite the fact that she was closer to his own age than the other junior officers. Late bloomer, he guessed. Well, she did have an excuse for being so green, coming straight from planetside duty. Sure, that would explain some of her unfamiliarity with the idiosyncrasies of Pride. As to the rest, well, it was almost as if she was deliberately acting ignorant.

“Yes, nobody else worked harder at screwing things up than you.” He hoped his smile took the sting out of his words.

Teri smiled back. “I’ll accept that.” She held out a hand. “Friends?”

Simon hesitated and then took her hand. ”Sure. Guess I really need somebody to talk to. I’ve been bored out of my mind. Depressed, too.”

Teri leaned across the table and touched Simon’s hand. It was a gesture of utmost sympathy, something he didn’t realize he needed until it happened. “Tell me about it,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine how terribly hurt you must be.”

Over the next few weeks Simon found himself warming to Teri. She was a willing student, full of questions about deep-space tactics drawn largely from his experience during the war. She was a fast learner, he realized. She seemed to have a natural gift for thinking in three dimensions. Had she been younger she’d have time to develop into a skilled tactician.

“Why did you wait so long to join the Fleet?” While she’d let him do most of the talking he discovered that he knew next to nothing about her, save what had been in her thin personnel folder.

“I waited too long,” she complained. “Thought I’d be a marine officer first, but that didn’t work out—I couldn’t handle the armor. Not enough muscle mass.”

“Desk Officers don’t wear armor,” Simon mused. “You’ve got brains. They could have given you a support position.”

Teri shrugged. “Uh-uh. Every marine’s a combat troop, even if they’re desk-bound. No, when I realized I couldn’t, I figured I’d best move on. Transferred to the Fleet. Took the first slot open and wound up on Dzhou. Started working in Taylor’s office. Took me a year to snag a short-term ship assignment on Pride.”

“As Win Ha’s helper,” he said dryly and regretted it immediately.

Teri’s face flushed. She stared at him for a long moment and then bit out; “That’s no damn business of yours, Simon. I do whatever’s necessary, just like you.”

There was no mistaking what she meant. “It was an alien ship, Teri. I’d stake my career on it.” The words slipped out so quickly that he didn’t realize why Teri’s expression softened.

“You did stake your career on it, Simon. You damn well did!”

After that, making up was the best thing for both of them.

* * *

“Anything new from Intel?” Simon asked as Kit joined him for dinner.

“Nothing of note. Still haven’t found the missing top section, if that’s what you’re hoping for. They did find out something moderately interesting in the lab, though.”

Simon waited. Kit took another sip of coffee from the mug. Like all the others in the day mess it lacked a handle and had a suspicious discoloration around the rim.

Finally Simon could stand it no longer. “All right, what was it they found?” He hated it when Kit played these infantile games.

“One of the medium-sized shards had a hole running straight through it. About five centimeters wide and two high—or maybe it was the other way around.” He grinned. “Same proportions as the smaller scratches and the same ninety-degree angles. They can’t figure out how something could bore a hole with edges that precise through glass, especially since it takes a thirty-degree turn near the spot it exits the shard.”

Simon whistled. “What the hell are we dealing with, Kit? This doesn’t sound like any technology we know. And how would a glass object be able to maneuver and move that fast?”

Kit pocketed the shard. “Damn if I know. Certainly is interesting, though. By the way, the jujubes still won’t admit this wasn’t just a glass rock you ran into. Of course, that’s coming from the brass—their scientists won’t talk to ours.”

“Yeah, I heard. Teri told me the other day.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “Better watch out, lad. Word’s getting around that you’re spending a lot of time with her. I knew her when she was in the office, y’know. Sharp, she is; always got some angle going. I’m not trying to interfere, Simon, but I wouldn’t trust her too much. You know how friendly as she is with the jujube brass.”

“You mean with Win Ha? She’s just playing him along.” Teri had pretty much admitted that.

“Maybe. All I know is that Ha-Ha pulled her off the ship to ‘advise’ him and act as go-between with the Fleet. Supposed to keep him posted on Pride’s repair and refit. Wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t sleeping with him.” he added.

Simon felt a brief pang of jealousy. Or was it envy? Strange, he hadn’t thought of her that way, at least not seriously. “That’s no business of mine.”

Still, it was disturbing to think about Teri using her body as a route to advancement. She didn’t seem the type of person to do that.

“All right, warning taken. I’ll watch out, Kit.” It didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything Teri could do to make his situation any worse.

“Hey, I can’t blame you for trying to liven up your life with a pretty woman. Being confined to base must be getting damn dull for you.”

“Dull? On the contrary, I’ve got a full calendar. I work out at the gym, get to watch all the entertainment I can stomach, observe the shuttles boosting off, and dine on the wonderful food they serve in the mess. How could I possibly be bored?”

Kit chuckled and held up three fingers. “Let me tell you, then: You’re checking the inbound board twice a day.” One finger went down. “You’ve read half the library.” Another finger. “You’ve finished the course for the Commander’s exam and probably brushed up on the Lieutenant’s—not that you’d need to do that, given your experience. Of course you’re bored.”

Simon slumped. “All too true, but until a ship comes in I have no other choice.” The truth was that he had to keep busy so he wouldn’t dwell on the trial and his demotion. He still had those lingering, hellish nightmares every morning and still had to deal with their aftermath through the rest of the day.

Kit had a goofy grin on his face. “You could make a pass at Perry. I’d bet she’d take you up on it. That would make your evenings a lot less boring, I’d bet.”

“Not a chance. We’re just casual friends.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “She’s chilled every other guy who’s tried to bed her. Given the amount of attention she’s giving you, I’d say there was something more than friendship involved. Look, why don’t you take a shot? You’ll never know unless you try.”

“I’ve considered it,” Simon admitted. What had held him back was her declaration that he wasn’t her type. Of course that might have changed. No, too risky. “I’d rather keep it at the friendship level.”

Kit still had that grin on his face. “Sure you would. And I’ve got a cubic mile of vacuum that I’ll sell you. Let me up the ante here, old buddy. The Admiral’s got a place on the coast. It’s far away from civilization, private, and has lots of beach and forest to wander in. I think I could arrange for you two to fly down. Taylor wouldn’t mind.”

The idea was appealing. “You wouldn’t get into trouble, would you?”

“Don’t be stupid. This is Taylor’s idea. He used the demotion to keep you out of the jujubes’ hands. Felt terrible about how he had to shaft you. So, what do you say—want to go?”

“I’ll think about it,” Simon promised. Yeah, and see if Teri would be interested as well. He was pretty sure she’d like a vacation away from Win Ha.

A few days later he mentioned Kit’s offer of Taylor’s private retreat to Teri.

“Hey, I know that place. Taylor took some of us there last year. It’s a secluded place on the beach. I’d give anything to go there again.”

Simon took a deep breath. “Kit says he can let me use it for a few days. Said I needed a vacation.”

“Any chance you’d take me along?”

Simon started. After trying to work up nerve to ask her for days it turned out to be easier than expected. “I could ask,” he answered stupidly. “Uh, that is, if you want me to.”

Teri smiled and pecked him on the cheek. “Of course I do, you idiot. You have to be the densest man I’ve ever met. Why the hell do you think I’ve been spending so much time with you?”

“Friendship?” Simon felt like he’d been hit with a hammer. And it felt good.

The burst from the Fleet ship arrived during second watch, long after most of the base was in bed. “Supply Ship Humphries, inbound from Theta, expected arrival in four hundred hours.” There followed a long bill of lading detailing the supplies destined for the Fleet at Dzhou, the crew manifest, and a list of supplies she’d require before departing to her next port of call.

The watch officer duly noted the burst, annotated the inbound log, and submitted the requirements to the base’s supply system. Then he went back to reading about the Fleet’s battle off Heaven during the civil war. It didn’t read like anything he remembered from that engagement. His own experience was far less exciting and a hell of a lot more frightening.

Kit’s call roused Simon from a dream of floating free in space, fighting hand in hand with rebel colonists. That the rebel whose air hose he had just severed resembled Captain Win Ha had only added to the dream’s pleasure.

“Your ship’s finally coming in,” Kit said as soon as Simon answered.

“What?” Simon said grumpily. Then the meaning of what he’d just heard sank in. He was fully awake in seconds. “When?” he shouted. One of the Fleet’s ships must have been close by to pick up that emergency burst Taylor had sent about the aliens. What type would it be—a Hellion-class frigate, a battle-hardened Destructor, or one of the monstrous Designators?

“It’s Humphries,” Kit continued without pause. “She should dock in a little under four hundred hours. Better take Taylor up on the offer soon. I understand Humphries is a pretty old ship. You might need some pleasant memories to fall back on.”

“Old ship?” What the devil was Kit talking about?

“Supply ship,” Kit replied. “One of the freighters that got converted during the war, I understand.”

Simon’s heart fell. “Freighter?” Somehow he couldn’t resolve this as the ship he’d have to join. “There must be some mistake.”

“Sorry, old buddy, but Humphries is the first ship to arrive and you are stuck with it. Anyhow, say the word and I’ll get you going on your vacation.”

Simon tried not to let his disappointment at the news affect his voice. “Thanks for calling, Kit. I’ll let you know about . . . No, wait a minute.” Damn it, he deserved to get something back from Taylor! “Sure, why not?”

“Right, old buddy. I’ll shoot you the specs on Humphries and figure out how to get you assigned on, let’s see, remote duty—that should cover you for the vacation without violating regs. Hey, I just had a thought—Humphries might be an opportunity to earn your bars back. Damn few good officers in the supply Fleet.” With that cheery addition he clicked off.

“Who was that?” Teri murmured sleepily as Simon lay back down.

“A surprise,” Simon answered. “I’ll tell you in the morning.” Just at the moment he didn’t feel like talking.

A supply ship!

Teri had raced around to pack and get ready for their vacation. “I forgot about my schedule—Win Ha wants me to go up to Pride with him to check on progress. But let me make a few calls,” she answered. “I’ll see if I can move the schedule around so we do that the following week.”

“Don’t tell Win Ha about where we’re going,” Simon warned as she turned to go.

“Silly. I wouldn’t do that.”

Kit Wilkerson was a wonder. He called Simon at the Officer-of-the-Day office. “We’ll drop you at night—less chance of somebody seeing you. I­ gave the caretakers a week off and there’s always guards watching the gate. Nobody’s going to bother you.”

“That’s an awful lot to do for a—”

“Would you cut the crap? Like I said, Taylor feels bad about busting you. Chalk it up as payback and have fun.” Kit paused and elbowed Simon. “Give her a couple of good ones for me, eh, you lucky dog.” With that, Kit clicked off.

Simon set the phone back down, smiling that someone else realized what a prize Teri was. At the moment he didn’t know which excited him more—having Teri all to himself for a week or getting his feet back onto a Fleet deck, even if it was only a damned supply ship.

Simon signed out for the day, and headed for his quarters. He was surprised to find that Teri had already packed his belongings. Teri stepped out of the bedroom. She was wearing her uniform and had a flight suit over her arm.

“Where are you going?” he exclaimed when he saw her. “We’re leaving in a couple of hours.”

Teri smiled. “Sorry, I have a quick meeting with Win Ha. I’ll meet you at the plane. Hey, don’t look so sour, after all you’ll have me all to yourself for a whole week. Don’t begrudge Captain Ha-Ha a few hours.”

“You know how I feel about that asshole.”

She came close. “And you know how I feel about you.”

He took her in his arms. “You are a wonder.”

“Well, here’s something to tide you over.” Teri put her arms around his neck and pressed close. For a long moment he didn’t think of anything except the pleasures of lips and tongues and the warmth of having her so close and . . .

“Whoa, boy. Let that wait until later.” She wrinkled her nose. Teri danced away, laughing. “Phew, right now you need to shower and get dressed. Well, gotta run. See you at 2200. Don’t forget my bag!”

Peng awoke to the chiming of his personal call. “I’ll need that transport you promised next week,” Win Ha said without preamble. “All the principals are finally in place. It’ll have to be a VTOL scramjet instead of a shuttle, though. According to my source, the field’s not very long.”

Admiral Peng smiled as he clicked off. He was quite satisfied that things were progressing so well. He was especially pleased that Win Ha was finally acting like the officer he wanted him to be.

He would have to tell Senator Ma how well things were going

Teri and the pilot were waiting by the plane when Simon showed up with the bags.

“Toss those in the back,” the pilot said. Webster, the nametag read. “Perry and I will be riding up front.”

“Helen and I came to Dzhou together,” Teri explained. “She offered to let me ride in the copilot’s seat.”

Helen stuck out a hand. “Well, I can see why Teri’s been so unavailable lately.” She grinned as she swept Simon from head to foot. “Pleased to meet you, Under-Lieutenant.”

Without a pause she continued. “Since this is officially a training exercise, we’ll be going in on a secure drop. We’ll fly high until we’re near the target then I’ll cut engines and glide to about six hundred meters, flip on the electrics and do a silent landing—no lights. I’ve planned this so we hit just before that speck the Dzhou call a moon rises.”

“She’s telling you this because it’s a little hairy the first time,” Teri added. This surprised Simon. He didn’t realize Teri knew that much about flying.

“All right, let’s strap in and lift off,” Helen said and pulled her helmet over her head.

“Hairy” wasn’t a word that Simon would have used to describe the sudden drop when the engines cut off, the screaming of air around the otherwise silent craft, nor the stomach-churning twisting and turning as they plunged toward the ground for what seemed like hours.

Then the jolt at the end that felt like a horse had kicked him in the ass, sideways-skewing movement, and the jolting stop as the wheels touched the ground.

Teri was out of her seat in a second. “Come on, quick, Simon. Toss the bags down here.”

Simon could barely make out her form in the darkness, but did as she said before climbing down himself. No sooner had his feet hit than the plane lifted off. In seconds she was airborne and away, silent as owl’s wings.

There was a click and suddenly there was a pool of light around the bags. “I think the path is over that way,” she said. “I’ll hold the light while you grab the bags.”

Simon was surprised to see white sand instead of a grassy field. Then he noticed the waves hitting the beach. “Where . . .” he began.

Three dark forms appeared suddenly. The closest one was directly in front of them while two more were spread on either side. “This is a restricted area,” a gruff voice barked. “Identify yourselves.”

“Commander Perry and Under-Lieutenant Clay,” Teri said. “The pilot decided to drop us on the beach instead of the field.”

“Can you show me some identification, sir?” the voice said, a little less gruff this time.

“Hold the light.” Teri handed the light to Simon and then unzipped her flight suit. Simon gulped. Underneath she had on a very small two-piece. “Here you are, sergeant,” she said, handing over her id tag.

“Corporal, sir.” The corporal’s hand shook a little as he took the tag. “Everything seems fine, sir,” he said with barely a glance at it.

Simon considered the way the two on either side stayed their distance. Probably there were two more back there in the darkness, out of sight. The spread was designed to give them each a clear lane of fire. Excellent tactics, he thought.

“My tag?” Teri said and held out her hand.

The corporal seemed confused, whether by the pilot’s choice of landing sites or by the amount of feminine flesh before him. Must be damned lonely out here in the boonies, Simon thought. But he had to admit that the sight was affecting him as well.

“Sorry, sir,” the corporal said. “Let’s go!” The three marines faded into the brush.

“You’re such an asshole, Reilly,” a female voice cut through the night. Apparently the corporal’s duty wasn’t too lonely after all.

“What did I tell you? Doesn’t the Admiral like to live well?” Teri wandered around the room and ran her hands over the chair backs. “I wonder,” she said quietly, “what the bedroom must be like?”

Simon dropped the bags. “Well, let’s check it out. We can unpack in the morning.”

“Or later,” she laughed, and raced him up the stairs.

Senator Ma was quite pleased at Peng’s news. Thank heavens he’d suggested that Tu’un invite Taylor to accompany him on tour earlier. This would fit nicely with Peng’s plan. The Admiral’s absence from headquarters might delay the Fleet’s reaction to the kidnapping. Yes indeed, he thought, Things were coming together quite well.

The embarrassment Peng’s trial of the officer would cause only added to his pleasure. Yes indeed, a show trial would tell Senator Mn Ha who held the real power in the council.

Time passed in a blur for Simon. They spent time on the white sand beach, tossing shells into the sparkling blue waters, swimming, and just lying in the sun until they were both brown as nuts.

In the evenings they liked to walk in the thick growth of forest, smelling the rich damp duff that lined the forest floor and watching the arboreal animals that chattered and screamed at them. None of the fauna in this part of Dzhou, it seemed, grew larger than an Earthly squirrel.

After dark they would sit on the patio, staring up at the stars as the damp sea breeze blew onto the land. In the distance they could hear the soft beat of the waves and the chirping of the nocturnal animals. Faintly they could hear the rustling of the leaves and grasses. The vegetation grew so large that Simon sometimes wondered if it was the breeze or the swiftness of their growth that made the sound.

“Where do you think it came from?” Teri wondered absently as her finger went from star to star.

“Thought you didn’t believe in my alien,” he said. “Well, you’re not the only one. At least I’ve kept my commission.”

Teri sat up. “Simon, I know it’s a damn shame, losing your rank. But you’ll get it back. You’ll make out all right. The cream always rises to the top in the Fleet.”

“Yeah, right. A freaking freighter will provide endless opportunities to use my tactical experience, won’t it? Ah, the hell with it. This is a vacation.” For an entire day, he’d managed to put the past completely out of his mind. Now, it all came back—the guilt, the dead crew, the trial—everything.

“I do believe you, Simon. The evidence is too overwhelming to deny.” She stroked his cheek. “Come on, answer my question: Do you think we’ll ever find out where it came from?”

Simon softened. “Honestly, I don’t know if the encounter was a one-in-a-million coincidence or if that damned iceberg was the leading edge of an armada. I’ve been wondering about that ever since I first saw it.

“The idea of an alien race scares the hell out of me,” he continued, warming to the subject. “We have no way of assessing what they might do, how they might react, or how they might interpret our actions. What if they all attack us, like that one did to Pride? How do we deal with something like that?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist,“ Teri answered. “Maybe they’ll welcome us with open arms, or whatever equivalent they may have. I should think that a race that has achieved interstellar flight would be advanced enough to see the benefits of cooperation.”

“Like the colonies?” Simon scoffed. “Humanity can’t even cooperate with itself, so I have little doubt we’ll behave any differently with another life form. Maybe the aliens are the same way. It sure looked that way when that thing rammed me.”

“Maybe you spooked it,” Teri said.

Simon pulled away. That was his greatest nightmare, that his actions, his warning shot had caused the alien to react so violently. God, why couldn’t he accept his own rationale for why he had done what he had? Why did he feel this enormous weight of guilt?

“Look, a meteor trail!” Teri’s finger traced a path across the sky until her finger touched Simon’s lips. “But we only have a few more days. Let’s try not to talk about the Fleet, aliens, or anything of any consequence.”

Simon kissed her fingers and drew her arms around him. “Nothing of any consequence it is, Commander.”

And for a while, the guilt went away.

Kit called every afternoon to check on them, even though Simon doubted it was necessary. Since Taylor used this place to entertain Dzhou politicians, he was pretty certain that the Admiral’s house was outfitted with all manner of surveillance gear. He just hoped that the bedrooms didn’t have hidden cameras. He’d hate the thought of some anonymous security Rating watching his performance.

Or Teri’s.

“They’re making some progress on the debris,” Kit reported in one of his morning calls. “The big chunk, the one they think came from the ass end of that thing, has some interesting properties.”

Rather than try to wait Kit out, his usual game, Simon asked immediately. “Such as?”

“Seems the interior isn’t quite as homogeneous as they thought. Under polarized light it looks as if there are fracture planes separating the chunk into distinct regions.”

“That doesn’t sound terribly interesting to me,” Simon said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But it seems that these things are more than decorative. Intel thinks this is a piece of whatever drove it. Maybe a dielectric thingamajiggy.”

Simon decided to challenge Kit’s technical slang. “Or a whatchamacallit?”

“Something like that. Anyhow, the scientists now think this was a machine, but based on principles we don’t have an inkling of knowing.”

“A machine? The thing didn’t act like a machine—more like it was under intelligent control.”

“Well, that’s your opinion. Listen, I’ve got to run now. I’ll call you whenever I get some more news.”

Simon was returning from the beach with a fresh fish for dinner when he overheard Teri talking. “Right,” he heard her say. “Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”

He pushed open the door. “Look what I have.”

Teri’s reaction was less than enthusiastic. “Are you going to cook that thing or do you expect me to do it?”

“I’ll clean it if you cook it,” he replied. “Did Kit call while I was fishing?” It would be unusual for him to call twice in one day.

“Kit didn’t call,” she replied. “It’s a little early for that anyway. He usually doesn’t call until late afternoon.”

“Yeah, right. I just thought I heard you talking to someone, though.”

Teri smiled. “Just business, darling. Don’t give it a thought.”

Win Ha could scarcely keep the glee from his voice when he called Peng. “I think we need to move soon. A ship is due to arrive within two days and Clay is off the base. I have to get to him now, before he gets back to safety.”

“You continually amaze me with your resourcefulness,” Peng replied. “The arrival board shows Humphries is still three days out.”

“I have a better source,” Win Ha said with ill-concealed impatience. “Now, can you have the transport on the ground at Taylor’s estate tomorrow night? My agent assures me the little bastard doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“The plane will be unmarked, but obviously military. It would be difficult to hide a scramjet, just in case you’ve forgotten.”

Win Ha didn’t catch the insult. He felt the thrill of anticipation. Soon, he would see Simon Clay humbled by an honorable military court, one the Fleet did not control, one where Clay wouldn’t be protected by Taylor. By the heavens, he’d put the man in chains, send him to prison, and then rub the Fleet’s face in it.

The punishment of Simon Clay would serve as an example of what happens when proper Dzhou authority is flouted.

Kit’s early morning call was a surprise. “Is Teri around?” Kit asked immediately.

“No, she’s out walking the beach.”

“Good. Listen, we just got word that the jujubes are going to try something so we have to get you away from there. I’m pulling you out tonight.”

“Why don’t you just beef up the marine guards?” Simon asked.

“Already did that, but there’s too much beach and too many trails in the woods. Besides, Taylor wouldn’t like a confrontation—somebody’s likely to get killed.”

That made sense. The last thing he wanted was another death on his conscience. “All right, I’ll tell Teri the bad news.”

“Tell me what?” Teri said from the porch.

Wilkerson must have heard her. “Just be ready to get the devil out of there when the time comes. Stay inside until then.”

Simon replaced the phone. “That was Kit. Said they’ve learned the jujubes are going to try to arrest me. He needs to get us back to the base.”

There was a strange expression on Teri’s face. “Did he say how he found out? Was it Intelligence or what?”

“He didn’t really say. But I trust him.”

Teri swore.

Simon knew the reason. “I know how disappointed you must be, sweetheart, but it had to end some time.” He put his arms around her, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair, feeling the smooth silkiness of her skin. “Looks like this will be our last night.”

Teri softened and snuggled close. “And then you’ll be gone forever, never to see me again, never to kiss me again, never to . . Ah, what the hell—let’s pack and then do something we’ll both remember for a long, long time.”

There was no arguing with her logic; that was certain. Simon was glad they’d remained good friends, and had managed to avoid the messy romance thing. At least he had. Oh, he’d be sad to leave her behind, but he wouldn’t be heartbroken over it.

At least he hoped so.

Teri apparently couldn’t sleep. She was up and down, rousing Simon to half-wakefulness each time. He had no idea of what she might be doing, but thought it might have a lot to do with Kit’s news. She seemed a lot more upset about this sudden end to their vacation than he.

A plane screamed over the house, startling both of them awake. “What the devil was that?” Teri exclaimed. “Sounded like a scramjet.”

Simon was into his clothes in seconds. “That must be our transport. Grab your bag. Let’s go!”

Teri was swearing loudly as she slipped into her one-piece and picked up her bags. “Damn it, Simon. This is highly irregular. I could have checked with the base about this.”

But Simon wasn’t listening. He was already out the door.

They ran to the strip, trying to keep their bags from snagging on the shrubs lining the path. Simon could hear the scrammer slowly turning. Even a VTOL needed use of the short strip to take off. The whine of the engines was almost painful. Simon could smell the excess fuel from the scrammer’s exhaust.

The hatch popped open. Simon threw his bag inside and then tossed in Teri’s.

“There’s no markings on the plane,” Teri exclaimed. At that moment Simon noticed a group of armed men running up the beach toward them.

“Get in the plane,” Teri shouted, shoving the middle of his back. Simon stepped inside and turned to give Teri a hand. She was fumbling with something in her pocket. He was startled to see her pull out a small handgun. “What the devil?”

“Shut up and sit down,” she ordered as she slammed and dogged the hatch, pushed past, and squeezed through the narrow opening to the cockpit. “Hello there,” he heard her say brightly just before there was a soft cough and something clattered onto the deck.

The marines were pounding on the hatch. “Open up!” came the muffled cry.

Teri poked her head through the hatch. “Ignore them. Here, strap him in one of the seats and then make yourself secure.” The limp form of the pilot fell into his arms.

“Teri, are you out of your mind?”

“Simon, shut up and strap him in. I’ve got to get this thing airborne.”

“You don’t know how to fly something like this.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the pitch of the engines started to rise. Had she gone insane? The plane shuddered as the engines torqued up.

Simon threw the pilot into the port seat and strapped him down. It was a relief to see that he was still breathing. At least Teri hadn’t killed him.

The scream of the engines was nearly intolerable, even in the closed compartment. The scrammer started to move. Simon barely had himself secured when he was slammed sideways. A second later he felt the hard seat press firmly against his buttocks as the plane shot up. Obviously Teri knew how to take off.

He just hoped she also knew how to land.

The jet continued to boost for what seemed like an eternity. As the engines cut off and the pressure on his seat lessened Simon blew out a sign of relief. That meant the scrammer had reached the top of its flight path and was now going to start falling toward their destination. Although he desperately wanted to find out what was going on, there was nothing he could do now but see where Teri was taking them. He certainly wasn’t going to distract her in mid-air.

Instead of falling back to the base, the scrammer’s big rockets fired. Simon was slammed back from the sudden acceleration. The rocket boost meant she was pushing them out of the atmosphere!

After a while, the big rockets shuddered, coughed, and then were silent. And then they were either falling or orbiting. Simon fought down a moment of nausea at the sudden onset of free fall.

“Doing all right back there?” Teri shouted. “Take a peek at our guest. Make sure he’s not choking.”

Simon checked to see if the pilot was still breathing and then noticed something strange. His flight suit didn’t look like a Fleet uniform. In fact, it definitely looked Dzhou. It even had jujube insignia. None of this made any sense. Why had a Dzhou been piloting the scrammer?

There was a hard jolt and a metallic grinding noise. Simon knew that sound. It was a rendezvous with another craft.

The hatch popped open with a loud clank. An armored Fleet marine stepped through. He had a wicked pneumatic P-85 in his hand. “Clear!” he yelled after a glance at the unconscious pilot.

Another marine and an officer put their heads through the hatch. “You all right, son?” the Light-Colonel said as his marines gently passed the unconscious pilot through the hatch.

“I think so, sir. May I respectfully ask what the hell is going on here?”

The Colonel, looking beyond Simon, ignored his question “Ah, glad to see you haven’t lost your edge, Teri. Brought her in right on target.”

“Thanks, Fred. You were a good teacher,” Teri answered as she pulled herself, hand over hand, from the cockpit. She glanced at Simon. “I think Under-Lieutenant Clay’s a little dazed though. I suggest we get him on board your boat before he explodes from curiosity.”

Tu’un was lazily feeding his fish when Schwen Wei arrived for dinner. “I trust everything went as expected,” he said after greeting his guest.

“Even better,” Schwen Wei answered. “The irritant is safely away, Senator Ma has been dishonored, and Fleet has discovered the identity of Peng’s informer. I am certain Fleet intelligence will be more gentle with Wilkerson than Ma will be with poor Admiral Peng and his man.”

“Yes, Senator Ma does not tolerate intemperate fools,” the Premier answered. “No more than I can have someone on the inner council so openly defy me.” He paused. “The Council values honesty and loyalty. I doubt Senator Ma or his faction will soon regain a position of influence.”

“A pity. But one earns his own rewards,” Schwen Wei said as he accepted an excellent brandy from Premier Tu’un.

“Now, as to the matter of the alien vessel.”

Tu’un shook his head. “The alleged alien object, you mean.”

Schwen Wei sighed. “Between us, old friend, there is no need for pretense. We both know that was no accidental encounter, that the samples Taylor provided could not have been created by natural processes. There is another space-traveling race out there, another civilization that we must deal with.”

Tu’un admitted nothing. “Even if it were an alien machine, what does it matter? Look, the human race has been expanding for over a thousand years and not once have we encountered evidence of alien intelligence. Now we have a single event, an encounter with what looks like some sort of machine and we are supposed to act as if they will be arriving within days or weeks? The whole idea is ridiculous.”

Schwen Wei frowned. “Perhaps you are right, Premier, but can we take that chance?”

“It may well be another thousand before we make another accidental contact. We have more than enough time to consider our options, to discover all we can of this thing. There is no reason for us to be precipitous.”

The Premier filled both their glasses. “Now come, let us talk of more pleasant matters. One needs more than the satisfaction of a job well done, my friend. Perhaps a title would be appropriate reward? Or would an honorary commission be more suitable since you are so anxious to face the alien horde?”

Schwen Wei had to grin at Tu’un’s jibe, but there was a kernel of truth in what he said. “I am a modest man, sir. I exist only to serve.” He paused. “But a commission would help me serve better, I think.” They both laughed at that. “It would be a great honor to command Pride of Dzhou.”

The Premier was taken aback. “But I was jesting. How would you hope to manage such a vessel? You have no military experience.”

Schwen Wei smiled. “Neither did Win Ha. However, you need not fear. I have an excellent prospect in mind to assist me.”

“I am sure Commander Perry will be very happy to hear that,” the Premier said. Obviously he had his own sources of information.

The revelation of Teri’s combat background had shocked Simon to the core. Gods, how stupid he must have sounded when he was talking about his own war experience! She must have had a hard time keeping from laughing.

What was worse was the discovery that she was assigned to protect him. Protect him, for God’s sake! How embarrassing.

The boarding klaxon sounded. Humphries was waiting. “I’m going to miss you, sir,” Simon said quickly.

“And I’ll miss you too, Simon. Last week was wonderful, although I damn near had a heart attack. You’d be Dzhou dog meat by now if I hadn’t maintained contact with Intel.”

“And for that I will be eternally grateful, Commander.”

“Please, Simon, right now, just call me Teri.”

Simon smiled. “So there was something between us. I wasn’t just an assignment.”

Teri’s eyes sparkled. A smile played on her lips. “Sure it was. You’ve been fun, but as I said before, you’re really not my type.”

But her farewell kiss said otherwise.