Alien Enigma

Darrell Bain and Tony Teora

Alien Enigma
Copyright © 2010 Darrell Bain and Tony Teora
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in Canada by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon Publishing Inc. of Markham Ontario, Canada.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Double Dragon Publishing Inc.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover art by Deron Douglas
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-780-3
ISBN-13: 978-1-55404-780-2
First Edition December 20, 2010

Also Available as a Large Type Paperback

Dedications

To my wife Betty again, for all her love and support

Darrell Bain

I dedicate this story to truth. Mankind will never find its proper place in the Galaxy without embracing truth

Tony Teora

Prolog

"No change from Liberty's record, sir. Not that they came close enough for any fine detail," reported Serena Shaft, the ship's executive officer, as soon as the clangor of battle stations had died down. Captain Wilson wanted to make peaceful contact but he knew the Jeane Baptiste's Captain had been no fool-she and her ship went missing at this exact location five years before. He ordered the Athena to full alert as they passed the hundred thousand kilometer distance from the planet Xanadu. Their destination was the alien city of the same name, discovered on the maiden voyage of Wannstead Industries' first interstellar space ship, a survey vessel named the Liberty . The second, the Jeane Baptiste , was sent to investigate the planet but never returned. Now it was the Athena's role to get some answers.

"Can't say I blame them, not on a first voyage," Captain Wilson replied from his central position in the control room. "We're here to find out what kind of critter inhabits the place, though. Bring us in closer, about a thousand kilometers. Com, initiate contact protocols." His voice was calm, not displaying the tension he felt, the responsibility for his crew. Nor did it display the sense of aloneness he felt this far from Earth.

The world below grew in size as the ship made its slow approach, showing typical blue and brown and green of an earthlike planet. On a separate screen, the alien city was displayed. The image was slightly fuzzy because of the distance and magnification but it became clearer as they neared.

"No response to protocols, Captain," the com officer said.

"Noted. Keep broadcasting."

"Approaching a thousand kilometers, Captain," the XO announced.

"Noted. Let's get in a little closer. David, bring us down to five hundred kilometers and offset to keep the city in sight."

"Yes, sir. Five hundred kilometers."

Four minutes passed in tense silence as the ship slowly approached the alien planet.

A flashing light obscured every screen in the control room. The ship shuttered once, hard. Rumbling noises momentarily overrode excited voices.

"Captain, we're taking fire!"

"Get us out of here, David! Maximum thrust! Weapons free, return fire!" The captain's voice was louder but still perfectly calm.

Another bruising crash of noise hit the ship. The screens, which had been coming back on line again, blinked out in a haze of static. This time smoke rose from beneath the control room console.

"Captain, we're losing power!"

"Keep trying. Guns, what are they throwing at us?"

"A plasma charge, I think. It's chewing us up." The weapons officer's last statement was superfluous. Red lights were dancing along those parts of the console still functioning, indicating heavy damage.

"Captain, we've got thrust but the ship's not responding! I think they've caught us in a ...a goddamned tractor beam of some kind!"

"Our lasers aren't working and readings show the missile tube is blocked, Captain. I can no longer return fire. Not that it was very effective, damn it to hell," the weapons officer exclaimed. His voice had a tremor of fear in it.

The ship began a continuous, ominous vibration, interspersed with sounds of tearing metal.

"XO, shut down the thrusters!" Captain Wilson yelled. "We'll tear the ship apart if we keep bucking whatever it is that's grabbed us!"

The sound of the straining thrusters died. Shortly thereafter, the city's assault on Athena ceased, but the tractor beam holding it in thrall drew it down toward the planet, toward the alien city of Xanadu and whatever fate awaited the ship and its crew there.

Chapter One: Xanadu

On the question to renowned Cosmologist-Physicist, Stephen Hawking, on whether scientists should contact alien civilizations from other planets ...

I think it would be a disaster. The extraterrestrials would probably be far in advance of us. The history of advanced races meeting more primitive people on this planet is not very happy, and they were the same species. I think we should keep our heads low -Stephen Hawking 2010

" ...and no one can deny that forcing a major reform of the United Nations before allowing it to have a military, or letting it purchase interstellar space ships from America, was one of our finest hours, instigated by one of our greatest citizens. Even the treaties mandating construction of the ships only in the United States for a period of twenty years was a laudable achievement. But even that gratuitous act is overshadowed by the way the administration and Congress caved in to Olson Wannstead's other demands.

"Yes, caved in to his demands that some of our most venerable social contracts with our citizens be discontinued, that they be abandoned like unwanted pets set out to starve in the streets! We have managed to ameliorate some of his most drastic actions but ..." the speaker paused dramatically for a moment so that his disgusted facial expression could be seen against the backdrop of a United States flag prominently displayed in the studio from which he was speaking. " ...but, my friends, that same party is still in control in Washington more than two decades later and is stealing our freedom in front of our very noses. There was no need to surrender to Wannstead's retrograde idea of government where so-called free enterprise leaves many individuals and their families destitute. There was no need to simplify the tax code so that wealthy individuals no longer pay a fair share of the wealth given to them by this great country. There was no need to balance the budget on the backs of those citizens living at poverty levels and in need of assistance for food, shelter and health care. And there was certainly no need to begin paying down a national debt that has served admirably for decade upon decade to stimulate the very economy that allowed Olson Wannstead to generate his vast fortune. Those are just a few of the reasons I need your help in the coming election. We must fight the growing ..."

"Shut the damn thing off," Olson Wannstead ordered. He touched the button on the arm of his big easy chair to order another drink and looked across the den at Brian Wannstead, his thirty-year-old son.

The television screen on the wall of the den died as Brian voiced it off. "Do you think Gordon will win?" his son asked.

The elder Wannstead shrugged. "I hope not but we can live with it if he does. It doesn't make that much difference now since our monopoly on constructing ships is going to end soon. We've done well, better than I ever expected, if fact. Anything else we accomplish is just icing." He grinned, giving substance to his handsome face that was just beginning to show wrinkles. "Of course, we'll keep the corporate offices and manufacturing plants here so long as we can earn enough for more ships of our own, but otherwise our future is on our own planets."

"Are you planning on setting up a new colony, Dad? We already have two and only one of them is self-supporting."

"There are some really great earth-type planets in the Bolt Cluster. That's where I'd like for us to expand, but we'd have to learn how to solve the damned enigma of our missing ships first."

"You think we can, Dad? We haven't had much luck so far."

The elder Wannstead shrugged. "I don't know. We certainly can't keep throwing ships at it. If the last one we sent doesn't return, I think we'll be forced to turn the problem over to others."

"Not the U.N! Surely there's something else we can do," Brian exclaimed. The disgust in his voice held all his and his father's dislike of the world organization, despite Wannstead's part in its reformation over two decades ago.

"No. The United Nations has fallen back into the old pattern. It's becoming bloated and one-sided again, and the blocs of smaller nations are gradually gaining sway. Besides, even if we can't gain access to the Bolt Cluster, I don't want news of Xanadu's existence to get out. Sure as hell, it'd spark an arms race and probably lead to war. At the very least it would be destroyed, along with all that technology just sitting there, waiting to be exploited." He sighed despondently. The alien city, designated Xanadu by his own late father, was discovered when Wannstead Industries began exploring interstellar space with its first experimental ship, the Liberty. On its maiden voyage, an overlooked parameter dealing with distances threw the ship far out into interstellar space near an unnamed cluster of stars. With his usual acumen for aptness, Wannstead senior, who had insisted on going on that first flight, called it the 'Bolt Cluster' after the way the ship had bolted to such an unplanned distance from Earth.

Luckily, that first experimental model hadn't been built to land on planets. It was strictly designed to gather information and report back, with safety a prime consideration. It merely noted the presence of the huge alien city on an earthlike planet and, playing it cautious as ordered, never came closer to the planet than a hundred thousand kilometers. That was still close enough to get a fair recording of what they saw. Wannstead named both the city and planet Xanadu, after the beautiful and opulent Kublai Khan Yuan Dynasty summer capital in China.

It naturally became the objective of the first flight of the initial standardized models of interstellar ships manufactured by Wannstead Industries, and these were designed to land on planets. That first ship, the Jeane Baptiste, never returned, nor did a more massive militarized version, the Athena, launched five years later, even though its Captain was instructed to ease into the Bolt Cluster and check other systems first before going near Xanadu. Another decade passed and Olson Wannstead decided to try one more time to land a ship near the alien city. Its Captain was also ordered to be cautious and check out other earthlike planets in the cluster before trying again for Xanadu. That was the Bella Galax. It failed to return as well. Profits still soared so he tried again, but that ship too was overdue by a month and he had just about lost hope of it ever coming back. It was also the last vessel the company could afford to lose. The great interstellar ships were extremely expensive, costing hundreds of billions of dollars each.

"So what will you do, Dad?"

"I believe our only option, and the only way to keep the secret, is to turn it over to the United States Navy. I really hate it. The technology there surely would have given the company a boost after losing so much money trying to land on Xanadu. I don't see much choice, though, do you?"

"But Dad, how will that help restore our cash flow? That last explorer took just about all our reserve." Although he had come up through engineering, Brian Olson had been transferred to the financial end of Wannstead Industries after shepherding the latest class of ships through the design and manufacturing stages.

For the first time after breaking the news to his son, he smiled. "I believe the recordings we took of Xanadu that first voyage will suffice."

"How so?"

"We're just bringing the more expensive C class ships on line after the fine job you did with them, and after seeing the Xanadu recordings, I'm pretty sure President Jensen and the government will put up the money to purchase the first ship off the assembly line for the Navy, and if they're satisfied they'll be more after that. Once the Navy gets the first one refitted, I believe it will head toward the Bolt Cluster and try finding out why none of our ships ever came back. Like any military, they don't like potential threats they know nothing about. Unlike most others, they have the means to try to do something about it. All we need to do is try to make them keep the objective secret, and Jensen promised me that so far as he's able, he'll do just that. It will go from him directly to the Secretary of the Navy only, I sincerely hope, and from there only to Admiral Mullins. At least it would stay in American hands this way."

"And what do we get out of it?" asked Brian, thinking of the cash his old man was spending on recent adventures.

Olsen smiled. "President Jensen promised to give us part of any proceeds that come out of Xanadu by right of original discovery."

"Can he do that? Promise that, I mean?"

"Not alone, but with the Space Navy's backing, it should be possible."

"Do you really think it's that important to keep it under wraps? We sure haven't realized any profit from it so far! In fact, we've lost three of our ships, four if you count the one overdue."

"Son, I know we've lost money, but everything I've ever learned in my life tells me that if the secret of Xanadu leaks out it will mean war between nations vying for the alien technology." He sighed, wishing he could leave now and turn the business over to Brian or his partner Lance. More than twenty years of tension from trying to keep a secret of the magnitude of Xanadu, and prevent a full scale global war, made for excessive wear on both the body and the soul. He was tired of it but the inner strength that had carried him this far would have to hold for a while longer.

"Okay, Dad, but what makes you think the Navy can land on Xanadu when we couldn't? It'll be essentially the same kind of ship even if it is our latest class. I doubt the increased laser power, or the larger size ship, will keep it from being captured or destroyed, or whatever the hell happens there."

"It probably wouldn't but I suspect the Navy will want it delivered directly to the Skunk Works. DARPA has been working on some improvements in interstellar ship weaponry. You know about them, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. The Skunk Works is where they dream up new weapons. I didn't know DARPA was involved with them, though."

"They are. Hand and foot, and have been almost since its inception. I've learned a little of what they're doing, but not much. They run a tight ship, if you'll excuse the pun."

"I've always wondered why you didn't just let the United States in on it and allow the government to help us, Dad. Why not?"

"Because every instinct and every bit of history I know tells me to never trust politicians with crucial information. They'd sell their own goddamned souls to stay in office or keep their own party in power. Something like Xanadu would probably have put the Progressives in power a decade ago and they'd have given it to the U.N. in a heartbeat. And the U.N. wouldn't have been able to keep control because every major nation would have broken the treaties keeping spaceship construction here. By now, we'd have already had a war. Xanadu might have - probably would have - been destroyed, if that's at all possible." He sighed heavily again, wishing human nature wasn't so damned capricious. With that thought, a laugh escaped him.

"What, Dad?"

"Nothing. Just laughing at a silly notion I just had." He glanced at his watch. "Isn't it about time for you to see Watkins?"

"Oh yeah. I'd better hustle. Later, Dad." He rose, gave his father a mock salute and hurried out.

Olson Wannstead remained in the den. He sipped at his glass of scotch while musing over the past. As a young man he knew he would inherit control of Wannstead Industries, but never in his wildest dreams did he think the financial empire he would build from his father's discoveries of the quantum drive, and its associated gravitational technology, would reach such heights. Without doubt, he was now the richest man in the world despite the loss of three, probably four, tremendously expensive starships. It hadn't been hard to gain that status when Wannstead Industries sold single interstellar ships for more than three hundred billion dollars, making a tremendous profit on each of them. Part of the markup was simply to keep countries he didn't care for out of space. He was proud of what he'd accomplished with the technology, too, despite the grinding pressure of handling all its implications and the guilt over the shortened lives of the men and women manning the inquisitive ships his orders had caused to be lost.

He knew he would never be as brilliant in the physical sciences as his father had been. Hardly anyone could match him in that area, now or in the past, but the old man had a corresponding lack of understanding of human temperament and psychology, particularly the type associated with those in positions of power. His father would have released his technology to anyone who could afford it, or perhaps even given it to the government in order to turn the nation into a superpower again. He had no inkling that such steps would inevitably lead to devastating wars with other nations that wouldn't stand for such a potentially overwhelming technological edge over them.

When he died suddenly, the first experimental interstellar ship had just returned from its test flight with himself and five others as the sole crew, the same test flight that discovered the planet they had named Xanadu, the same as the unfinished alien city discovered on it. At least one edge of the circular city looked as if it hadn't been completed. It was hard to be sure because of the distance when the recording was taken, but it looked as if large machines were going about tasks that looked suspiciously like building or maintenance in that one area. Again because of distance, nothing much smaller than different types of edifices in the city could be discerned. It was thought aliens had to be present but there had been no replies to considerable attempts at communication.

It was fortunate there were so few persons on that first voyage. It allowed his father to compensate the others with enough money and other considerations in order to keep the secret. Two had since died, two more were still employed as vice presidents on the production side of Wannstead Industries, and the other was retired.

From that first successful voyage, even though that ship hadn't been designed to land on a planet like the ones that followed, the fortune left to him by his father multiplied almost logarithmically. He was still in his early thirties when he negotiated the agreements that changed the political and military distribution of power on Earth and set mankind on its way to the stars. It hadn't been easy. It took almost two years of haggling before he pulled all the parties into far-reaching agreements.

It hadn't turned out all to his liking, but with his own country and other major nations clamoring and threatening war if not given access to the technology invented and developed by his father, his choices had been limited. Nevertheless he negotiated ceaselessly, ruthlessly and with the almost certain knowledge of what failure would mean-driving him until he got most of what he wanted. Access to the stars was hard to beat as a bargaining chip. Nations that could afford them were allowed to purchase interstellar space ships, along with a very strict international treaty agreement to keep manufacture of the ships in the United States for a period of twenty years.

The United Nations was reformed; its bloated bureaucracy cut mercilessly down to a slimmer and more efficient version of its former self, and the veto was abolished. The most ticklish negotiating point had been giving the U.N. a source of tax income in order for it to purchase its own ships, and allowing it to form a modest military force drawn from many nations in order to protect the colonies discovered by its ships. He hoped it would be enough to keep tempers in check when major nations began competing for newly discovered worlds suitable for colonization. It was the best he could do and fortunately, although earth-like planets weren't all that common, enough had been found to keep squabbling to a minimum. Theoretically, any inhabitable planets discovered were open to colonization by anyone, but the financial burden of the starships meant that nations owning them tended to dominate the worlds they discovered. Along with those agreements came a promise of non-interference with any colonies established by Wannstead Industries. It was just that, though. A promise. It had held so far, though, perhaps because he hadn't been very forthcoming with the exact location of the two star systems where Wannstead colonies were established.

And last of all he had convinced Congress to scrap the labyrinthine tax laws in favor of a flat tax with a mild escalation for high incomes. That step had been possible only when he convinced a majority of the members of both houses how much money the sale of starships and goods from colony worlds would add to the nation's coffers during the years when the country held a monopoly on starship manufacture.

He didn't expect that bargaining point to last and it hadn't. Congress was gradually returning to its old habits of using taxes to form social policies, or anything else to get votes for the party in power. Damned if he intended to see anything like that happen on Xanadu, not with the alien city to be exploited, not if he could get the Navy to back up his claim to colonization rights even if he did have to share any alien technology discovered. He had done what he could for Earth and the United States and, surprisingly, it actually turned out to be greater than anything he expected, if not all that he'd hoped for.

Perhaps the recordings of the two earth-like planets besides Xanadu brought back by that first test flight had much to do with it, even if no one knew they were far removed from the ones observed in the Bolt Cluster, including Xanadu-the one he hadn't reported. He didn't want anyone else even close to there. Most amusingly, the United States and a good portion of the rest of the world still thought of him as a great statesman, one of the giants of history. He supposed he was, in a way. He had, after all, figured out a system of expanding mankind's reach to the stars without the savage competition and wars over territory which nations had been prone to since humans first came down from the trees. So far, at least. He often wondered, though, what the public would think of him if they knew how long he'd been keeping Xanadu to himself and his cohorts. His statesmanlike stature would probably suffer a bit, he thought. Or more than a bit.

It wasn't perfect but it wasn't a bad system he'd fought for and won. All that bargaining led to the present day grouping of exploration by the United Nations on the one hand and individual nations on the other, with colonies formed under U.N. auspices coming under its jurisdiction and the U.N. also having a relatively benign role in keeping the peace between those established by the various nations. He was allowed ships of his own to conduct exploration, although even with his almost inestimable wealth he could afford very few. Of those, the fourth had now apparently been lost.

Luckily, Wannstead Industries owned a colony world that was returning some of the Wannstead investment, and the other was very promising. That planet's population was growing rapidly, fueled by his own small fleet of interstellar ships and driven by his own ideas of what kind of persons should hold power and status, and how governments should function. His own son had set up the selection committee for immigrants for their two colonies which were not in the Bolt Cluster. Those helped to throw off suspicion since it would have looked peculiar not to have colonized a world after insisting on permission to do so.

He intended the Wannstead colonies to be a reservoir of all the best humanity held within itself, a place of individual freedom with its concomitant responsibility, even if the Xanadu enigma was never cracked. Eventually, if he lived long enough or his son did, he intended for them and perhaps others to be the leaders of a star-spanning peaceful confederation of worlds that were all governed along the same principles.

In the meantime, the vast unfinished alien city of Xanadu was apparently in pristine condition, although they had been unable to tell whether it had been built recently or if the robotic machinery had been simply maintaining its unfinished glory for untold millennia. He had at first thought it was the latter until his ships began vanishing. After that he began thinking the city might have been completed between the first visit and the next. Regardless, if word of its existence and its advanced technology ever got out, it would lead to war between competing nations just as surely as competition for petroleum had led to a seemingly endless series of conflicts on Earth until alternative sources of energy were developed. Even the U.N. would not be able to stop it. He knew that as certainly as he knew politicians first and foremost looked after their own interests. It was the principal reason behind all his political and financial maneuvers and the source of the eternal worry that filled his days and led to nightmares at night.

He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the strain he always felt when thinking about the situation he'd created and the hopes he had nurtured for so long. Now the United States Navy would have to see what it could find out, with a star ship enhanced by DARPA at the famed Skunk Works in Palmdale, California.

He picked up the handset of his phone and began calling the numbers of men and women he knew, ones he could trust. It was the first part of negotiations he knew would go on for days or weeks. After that it would be out of his hands and out of the purview of Wannstead Industries. It made him feel sad in a way but also relieved, although he did intend to ask the Navy to try finding out what had happened to his people if they managed to overcome the Xanadu enigma.

Wannstead looked at a picture of the Xanadu city while sipping a scotch. He scratched his head and meticulously looked at the image. Something in the photo of the city bugged Olson Wannstead. He couldn't put his finger on it, kind of like the Mona Lisa's smile, but the enigma of that city seemed much colder than a smile. What was this strange looking place? Who lived there? Why weren't the ships coming back? What new technologies were there for the taking? Only the Space Navy had a chance at answering those questions.

Chapter Two: Skunk Work Space Work

The essence of war is violence. Moderation in war is imbecility.

-Admiral John Arbuthnot Fisher

It wasn't unusual for Admiral Gene Mullins to meet with the Secretary of the Navy but it was a rare occasion when he went to her office without knowing what the meeting was going to be about. Today he didn't have even a hint. Mullins didn't really trust a man or woman who didn't drink, and the Navy Secretary was known to have some really good brandy. With that in mind, and a long day almost finished, the Admiral walked into the Secretary's surprisingly austere office, the one she used for real business rather than the one depicting her status.

"That will be all, Martin," Georgeanne Smith said, dismissing her admin assistant. "Thank you."

"Yes ma'am," he said and departed, though not without throwing a curious glance over his shoulder. Her assistant was almost always present at her briefings.

"Admiral, thanks for coming. I'm sorry I didn't give you more warning." She smiled at him which let him know he wasn't on the carpet about anything.

"I'm always happy to see you, Ma'am," Admiral Gene Aloysis Mullins answered.

"And I know a fib when I hear one, Gene, but never mind. Have a seat. Pour yourself some coffee first if you like." She glanced up at a clock on the wall of the simple office, a wide departure from the usual Washington opulence in the abodes of politicians at her level. It contained little more than sufficient furniture for three or four guests to sit in bare comfort, her desk, and a little alcove where her ever-present coffeepot lived. "It's after five. Add a bit of brandy if you like."

"Thank you, George. I believe I will." What with fighting a weight problem he knew he didn't need it, but decided to indulge anyway. This appeared to be a meeting of significance.

"Make one for me while you're at it. It's been a long day."

Mullins poured some Germain Robin XO Brandy into their coffees (adding a little extra into his) while he wondered even more why he was there. Georgeanne Smith was one of the few politicians he respected. Her reputation was such that she had been carried over from the previous administration, a rarity in the brutal partisanship of high-level politics. He placed her cup on the coffee table when he noted she was coming from behind her desk to sit with him rather than at her desk. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought.

Once comfortable, George, as she liked to be called, crossed her legs and sipped at the brandy-laced coffee while eyeing her visitor. Even at fifty, she was slim and had great looking legs. Her short dark hair and green eyes veiled a smart, tough woman. She seemed to be thinking about how to approach a subject, staring at a painting of an ocean sunset on her wall.

Mullins waited comfortably, sipping his coffee-brandy. He knew it was no use hurrying her.

"Gene, before we go any further, I need to let you know that what we talk about is strictly Navy business. The other members of the Joint Chiefs are unaware of exactly what I'm going to tell you and the President wants it kept that way. This stays with the Navy."

"My lips are sealed."

George smiled. "They'd better be, or you and I both will be in trouble. Okay, first I want to show you a couple of photos. You can examine the whole recording later if you wish, but for now this will do." She brought out two page-sized photos. One showed part of a world from space, with what looked like an artificial construct in view. The other showed a closer view, faintly fuzzy from being seen through atmosphere. It disclosed what looked like a city but one never seen on Earth. It consisted of mostly spires and domes arranged in a great thick circle around a smaller central area of vegetation. One small portion of the city close to the edge appeared to be unfinished, with spires and domes and rectangular edifices obviously in various stages of construction. From there to the arc was nothing other than a deep evacuation, a clear sign that much of the finished part of the alien metropolis was built underground as well as above.

"What ...I mean where is this? A recent discovery?"

"It was found by the first exploration ship Wannstead ever sent out in an area they're calling the Bolt Cluster. They've kept it a secret since then."

"Is it what it looks like?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It is indeed an alien city."

"Is it occupied?"

"We don't know. They didn't come close enough to detect living organisms if there are any. The main sign of possible habitation is the amount of activity associated with construction, as near as we can tell."

"You mean they didn't land?"

"That first ship couldn't land. Remember? And they were very cautious and stayed well away from the planet."

"Oh, yeah. But how about later?"

Smith smiled wryly. "Wannstead has sent four of their own ships there over the last couple of decades. The first three didn't come back and the fourth one they sent recently is more than a month overdue. They aren't expecting it to return, either."

Mullins stared at her for a moment. He nodded, more to himself than her. "So now they want the Navy to have a crack at it."

"Right you are. They have no more money to expend on the enigma, so Olson Wannstead very quietly got an appointment with the President and told him about it, along with a suggestion that we keep it just as secret as possible. President Jenson agreed, with good reason, I think. Can you imagine the hullabaloo if this got out?"

"God, yes. Every country with the capability would want to go zooming off to see, and if one country lost a ship they'd blame another. We'd wind up in a war and probably the alien city would get a nuke popped on it eventually."

"That was Wannstead's reasoning."

"Okay, I'm with you so far. But what makes him think the Navy will do any better than their ships? Oh, wait. Never mind. He must have heard the musings of what's going on at DARPA."

"I hope musing is all he's heard. Their programs are supposed to be so black they have to use flashlights to get around the place. But you're right. Wannstead's new C class interstellar ships are just now being made available. Wannstead has already delivered the first one to Palmdale and DARPA is working on it now."

Mullins sipped at his coffee, savoring the bite of the brandy. "So let me see if we're straight. The Navy fixes up this new ship into a super-duper fighting machine and we send it to the Bolt Cluster to slay whatever dragon is guarding the treasure. Right?"

"Right. Now your mission is to pick the captain and crew for the ship. Start with the captain and work down. We need to get the senior officers involved with its renovation as soon as possible."

"I can see why! Okay, I can handle that. How many assistants can I bring to the job?"

"As many as you want to, so long as they don't know what they're doing."

He laughed. "Zinged me, didn't you? Fine. I'll cook up some kind of story for them to keep curiosity down. Anything else?"

"No, just let me know when you've got the crew ready."

"Can I recall some of the officers who aren't on active duty?"

"I suppose so. Are you thinking of any in particular?"

"Just one so far, but there may be others."

"Suits. Well, that's all I had, Gene. I'll let you get started first thing tomorrow."

"I may start this evening," he said, rising to his feet at her signal of dismissal.

***

Navy Captain Trent Keane leaned over the conference room table in an office at the administrative center of the famed Lockheed Skunk Works, Palmdale, California. An aerospace physicist and a weapons specialist sat at the table on each side of his chair, and Fred Jergens, a young electronics whiz and design engineer who was well versed in quantum engineering, leaned across the table from the other side. He had to brush back his long shaggy dark hair in order to see. His hair wasn't a political or personality statement, Keane thought. He gauged him as one of the types who just hated to take time off for haircuts. Keane was still reeling from being called back from leave and told he was being reassigned as Captain of the first of Wannstead's newest line of ships. Then to top it off, he'd been sent to the Skunk Works where the ship was undergoing a radical upgrade.

"It's quite an improvement over the standard design," Jergens stated emphatically, pointing to a spot on a hard copy printout. "Quantum indeterminism, my ass. That's the excuse Wannstead claims for some ships being faster than others but that's a load of crap. We can't get into the drive mechanism to see how he makes his own ships, but we know the ones he sells to us are speedier than those going to the U.N. and other nations. If we tried opening it up, we'd probably blow up half of California, so we went at the problem from a different angle. See here, where the gravity generator couples with the drive, we were able to enhance the flow of quantum shifting so that it's almost twice as fast as regular ships, and that also makes it faster than those Wannstead's sells to us or those they keep for their own use. His engineers probably did something like this but I'll bet they didn't go near as far as we did, not unless they learned how to control the quantum flux at the high end of thrust like we have."

Interstellar ship captains had to know a little of the theory behind the quantum drive, but most of what Jergens was telling him was more akin to Greek than English, and Keane didn't know a word of Greek. He liked the concept, though, and Jergens was reputed to be one of the best electronics design engineers in the business.

"Be damned! Does Wannstead know how we've remade this one?" Keane raised his head to look at the young man and tilted a brow.

"Hell no, and damn few others do, either." He brushed at his hair again. "This is so highly classified I have to tape my mouth shut at night in case I talk in my sleep and be forced to kill my girlfriend." Jergens didn't have a girlfriend but that was no one's business.

Keane chuckled, thinking of an ex-girlfriend whose mouth he'd once wanted to tape shut to keep her from talking about ex-boyfriends in her sleep. He dropped that thought and continued. "Show me the good stuff, things I know more about, like weapons."

"Sure captain." Jergens picked up a newer looking TekPad from his desk, swiped his thumbprint, tapped a few icons, and a section of schematics drawn in red ink lit on the screen. He put the TekPad down on his desk saying, "Projector please." A hologram sprang into being with the office wall as a backdrop. "Now look at the weapon bays here and here," Jergens said, using a pointer on his TekPad that was faithfully reproduced in the hologram. "We've replaced the lasers Wannstead uses and put in heavier types that another of the gang just finished testing. They're for fine work, but there's also a module here that houses a plasma pulser we've been fooling around with the last couple of years. This seemed like a good chance to test it, seeing as how the ship is big enough to carry one of them. Besides, we had a bug put in our ears about how anything to enhance the weaponry would be more than welcome. You'll have to wait until you're in space to use it, though. It draws its power from the drive energy." He looked up and grinned like a boy who'd just outscored a long time rival at Edge of the Universe, an extremely popular game played by young techies.

"What in the seven hells is a plasma pulsar? And what does it do?"

"The plasma part you can probably guess, Captain Keane. The pulser ...well, just think of blobs of plasma being shot from the ship at speeds high enough that they don't dissipate much before reaching their target. In our atmosphere the range is fifty miles or so, depending on your weather. That's the minimum. The higher you are in atmosphere, the farther away you can hit a target and damage it. In space though, the range ought to be much greater since there's no atmosphere to slow the blobs down or dissipate the cohesion. Thousands of miles at least. Maybe tens of thousands."

"Tens of thousands," the nearby weapons specialist said succinctly. "The bitch is aiming it over long distances but we're working on that. We're also looking at a double whammy for cutting though the atmosphere. We can use the laser cannons to cut a temporary hole in the atmosphere, then pulse our plasma behind it. Deadly combination-and increases the range of the plasma blast. We know of no other country that has that capability yet."

"Great. I can't tell you where we're going but that ought to give us an edge, depending on what we run into."

Jergens grinned as if he knew something Keane didn't, but continued his iteration of the upgrades. "That's not all. See these two indentations here? They'll be covered when not in use, but the lids slide into recesses when you need a twenty thousand kiloklick per hour rail gun cannon. It fires steel-coated depleted uranium slugs."

"Rail guns? And that good? Hot shit!" Keane said enthusiastically. He knew the Navy had the fastest rail guns in the world-but not this fast. Rail guns used magnetic fields to accelerate projectiles and Keane knew from his special training at the Deep Star Program that speeds of 10K were possible. But these new speeds would allow his ship to bomb the bejesus out of a planet-and from a relatively safe distance. "By God, that'll give me three different ways to kill the boogers. I had no idea we were this far along in heavy rail-gun technology and the plasma pulser is completely new to me. I'm going to have to bone up on it." He paused reflectively for a moment, then added, "I hope someone's been training crews to operate these additions?"

"Yes, sir. They'll be aboard. It took the overflow power produced by the quantum drive of the C class ships, plus our upgrades, to make both of them really effective. I don't know if Wannstead thought of it in those terms or not, but our intelligence spooks say his own ships carry weapons. I'm sure they aren't like anything we've put on this baby, though. Or will have by the time you take it out." His grin widened, then died. "I guess there's no reason other countries couldn't have upgraded their ships the same way as us, but I doubt anyone has weapons of the same caliber as ours unless they've hit on the drive modifications we have."

"Good deal!" Keane's big frame stretched upright. He kept a straight face at the engineer's remarks. Jergens didn't need to know that when he received his initial briefing the same subject had come up. Russia and Brazil had indeed been modifying and weaponizing their ships for the last twenty years, and China almost that long. Navy Intelligence had a pretty good picture of the situation. Nor did he have the need to know just yet that some of the spooks in the intelligence services thought one of those nations was responsible for Wannstead's missing ships. "I want every damned advantage I can get."

"Well, how about this?" He pointed to the cargo bay on the schematic. "I understand you won't be taking colonists so you'll have extra cargo capacity. Whatever you choose to stow there is up to you."

"As it stands now, we'll be taking Marines and enough supplies to stay out for a long time. Funny how the drive works, isn't it? It can't be made smaller according to Wannstead, so after it's installed there's enough power there to make the ship pretty near as big as you care to. Makes it nice for colonization but also good for other reasons, huh?"

"Damned straight. Do you want see the ship now?"

"You bet!"

"It's in the hanger. Let me call for transportation."

"Fine." He nodded to the other two techs. "Thanks, guys. Lead on, Mr. Jergens."

"Hang loose," Jergens said a few minutes later as Keane fitted his body into the passenger seat beside him. With his big frame, it left little room to spare. Once they were underway and out of hearing of the original driver he glanced over at the Captain. "I couldn't say anything in there. Those two aren't cleared for it, and it's not in the schematics, but there's one more innovation that's really and truly new. It's a spinoff from ...well, never mind from what. But it's similar in concept to the Earth's magnetosphere, which protects the Earth from radiation, except this baby will surround the whole ship, about a hundred meters out-and it's about million times stronger when it's on full power."

"The ship already has adequate radiation protection Mr. Jergens-I don't understand the big deal."

"Well ...it's not just for normal radiation protection, sir. We've finagled a shield of sorts, a plasma magnetospheric shield, or PMS, for your ship-but it's not installed yet. Sorry about the acronym-one of the DARPA guys named it that after the Secretary of the Navy kept complaining about 'needing some protection' to complement the ship's weapons." Jergens tried to attempt a nerdy smile but Captain Keane didn't seem to appreciate the joke.

"So what exactly can this shield do for us?" asked Keane.

"Sorry sir, I'll get to the point. It will stop a laser beam or plasma pulses ...in fact almost anything that's not solid matter, and your meteor shield should take care of objects that aren't too large, like rail gun slugs for instance. It's been enhanced, too, and it has been tested. No one we know has anything like this."

"Very interesting. That ought to prove useful, but with all this new equipment and weapons I can see now we're going to be doing a hell of a lot of training on the way out if we have to leave soon."

Jergens shrugged, causing the golf cart to weave a moment before he corrected. "There's the hanger. It's the largest building on the site. We prepared it beforehand, then as soon as the ship was accepted from Wannstead it was flown here and installed inside."

"That must have been a neat piloting trick."

Jergens grinned. "The side walls of the hanger are set on rails. The whole building moves. Man, when Wannstead brought these ships into service it sure caused a paradigm shift in space flight. Who ever dreamed we'd have interstellar ships that could land and take off from planets twenty years ago?"

"Or interstellar ships at all, for that matter. I sure didn't," Keane admitted with a chuckle. "I was a teenager then and hoping I'd get to Mars on a rocket in my lifetime, then Wannstead suddenly popped up with the quantum drive and the gravitic technology to control it. Was there anything else besides the shield I need to know, or was that the last of your little Christmas presents?" He reached up to catch his hat to keep it from blowing off in a sudden wind gust. Beneath it he wore his dark brown hair rather long for the military. Strands of it peeked from beneath his cover.

"That's about it for deployed systems. We'll be there in a moment," Jergens answered. "I think you'll like what you see."

The building loomed ever larger as they neared. It was like looking up at a mountain, Keane thought, reminiscing about previous ship duty. He had served as executive officer on Wanderlost for a year of exploration and already had a feel for the size of the interstellar ships. After that he'd thought he was going to be captaining the Spectre but an abrupt change of orders gave him this one. It made for a surprise when the golf cart entered the hanger and he saw that the new class loomed larger than he had imagined, even after seeing the specs. It was the third class of ship since Wannstead began building them and the largest by far. He could see already that he, and his astrogator and helmsperson, would all have to practice piloting it.

"I'm impressed already," he commented as he stepped out of the cart and gazed upward at the bow end of the goliath. It was the size of a wet navy supercarrier and yet was able to land on earth. That aspect alone made the ship impressive. Contrary to its size, it carried a crew of only eight hundred as compared to four thousand or more for the big carriers that still plied the world's oceans. However, this particular ship was going to have about six hundred marines, almost a battalion, and all their supplies and ammunition, along with four assault shuttles to go with them.

"Just wait until you see the inside. The control room has been redesigned to give you more space and a couple more workstations have been added, each of them with backup computers. The ship's AI also has two backups." He glanced slyly at Keane. "The Captain's cabin has been sized upward in proportion to the larger ship, too. I have a notion you'll appreciate that."

Keane shrugged. "I'll take it, whatever the size."

An improvised gangplank allowed entrance to the ship. It was being temporarily kept under low power from the base electrical system, allowing lighting and minimal use of facilities. An elevator took them to a passageway that led forward to where the control room was housed. Keane entered then stopped just beyond the hatch.

"You were right. This is great!" He gazed around at the half circle where workstations were indented into a number of alcoves. There were three blank spots which could be used for future upgrades, a design philosophy he heartily approved of. Each of the stations contained two small side screens for auxiliary use, and controls to display both a holograph and a flat screen. Set well above the workstations, keyboards, input controls and other paraphernalia of the console arc, were three huge screens. The one in the center dominated but the other two were also large and placed for easy viewing by all personnel. At the very center of the consoles was an extra-large station containing a chair designed for both comfort and support while the ship was maneuvering. It had a half dozen small screens and one oversized one. Jergens grinned and showed him the controls that allowed the chair to be either locked into place or detached from its mooring so the captain could scuttle around in his seat if he didn't want to stand. The safety harness was unobtrusive but he was willing to bet it was just as much improved over its uncomfortable predecessor as other aspects of the new seat were.

"Now look over here," Jergens suggested and led him to one of the stations. "This is the astrogation and astronomy station. We've incorporated another improvement, a larger and much more versatile telescope. This is basically the astrogator's workstation but an astronomer can fit in here as well. You can also call up a view of what's going on from the Captain's seat whenever you like. The telescope focuses or changes its viewing aspects depending on what wavelengths you want to utilize. I swear, that thing cost damn near as much as the ship!"

Keane laughed at first then stifled it. An all-purpose telescope wasn't really a single instrument but several contained in the same package. He had no idea if the different lenses or receptors were all housed together or even whether there was just one computer controlling them all or separate ones for each type of view. Whatever, it was a fine addition to the array of sensors that included light, radar, lidar, visual and gravimetric mass detection. As a reciprocal, Jergens explained, from another station pulses or beams of various wave lengths and amplitude could be directed toward objects such as planets, asteroids or even other ships to determine composition, detect metals, measure temperatures and many other functions. It caused him to wonder how many science specialists he'd have aboard.

He sat down in the Captain's chair to try it on for size. Even without power it fit him as well as his easy chair at home. He could only imagine what it would be like when he was able to adjust it-or was it self-adjusting? He sat there for a moment or two, looking around the huge arc of the consoles. He twisted around and the chair turned smoothly with him. He examined the rest of the control room with approval. There was a niche at the rear for coffee and snacks and another space that could be closed from view should the Captain or others need privacy for confidential conversations. The control room hatch had a heavily armored door for use if necessary. It was tucked neatly away during normal operations. A number of other little work spaces and alcoves were designed for secondary communications, auxiliary computers, petty officer stations, a specially equipped workstation for the Chief of Boat, a backup weapons station, a place for the engineer or his assistants, and several other stations thought necessary for a working interstellar space ship. He liked it. No, that wasn't quite right. He was going to love it. He turned back in his chair until he was again facing the consoles and stood up. There was one he didn't recognize.

"Fred, what's the function of that console third from the end there, the one with all the bells and whistles?" He pointed.

"Whoops! Sorry, sir. I forgot to tell you about it. This is the first interstellar ship I know of that has stealth technology and electronic warfare capabilities added to it. It's another spinoff from the increased capacity of the drive. Admiral Mullins had it built and installed in accordance with his orders from the Secretary: to protect the ship at any expense. Hence the stealth and weapon upgrades. The way I heard it, he told the design team that when the retrofit was completed, if the ship had to fight dragons he wanted it to be able to shoot fire with the best of them. And then serve dragon stew for the crew in the mess."

Keane smiled. "That's pretty much the way I heard it, too."

"Oh, the Admiral left some gifts. One's from the Navy Secretary." Jergens brushed back his hair and pointed to a laser-etched gold plaque and a black velvet bag that covered a bottle on his starboard captain's counter. Keane read the inscription on the plaque:

The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on.

-Ulysses S. Grant

That gift was definitely from the Admiral, who was a big fan of war novels and always quoted Generals and admirals saying things like: "Learn history so that you don't repeat its mistakes. And when in war, fight smarter than the devil, because that's your enemy." Keane picked up the velvet covered bottle and untied the string. He pulled out a forty year old bottle of Germain Robin XO Brandy. He smiled, glad that the Admiral didn't take it for his own stash. It was the Navy Secretary's favorite but rumor had it that the Admiral had acquired a taste for it, too. A note was attached. ' Godspeed Captain Keane. Good hunting.' It was a simple note, and simply signed, 'George'.

The gifts and words elated Keane but looking around the ship and all its new weapons and systems brought him back to reality. He grunted appreciatively and then spoke. "I hope I get a good officer to run that little EW nook. I won't know much about it until I get some study time in."

Jergens looked at him askance. "No one told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Umm, well, I've been called back to active duty. You're looking at your EW officer, sir. I'm just out of uniform. That is, unless you want to request someone else?"

"Mmm." He rubbed his chin and let a thin smile lift the corners of his mouth a millimeter. "How about the assault shuttles? Do they have stealth capability?"

"Absolutely!"

"Welcome aboard, then," he said and held out his hand. After shaking he glanced at his thumb watch. "I need to be getting back. The courier jet is picking me up in a little more than an hour. I've got a briefing scheduled in Washington."

"Great. Maybe you'll find out when we leave."

"Maybe," he answered, knowing the briefing was for more than to discuss schedules. There was some top secret information critical to the mission that would be passed. It was well beyond top secret, at a level of the President and his cabinet members. This intrigued the captain as much as the specially built warship. What was so secret about the mission?

Chapter Three: The U.S.S.S. Doc Travis

Always plan for the worst; that way, all your surprises will be pleasant ones.

- Robert Jordan, The Dragon Reborn

Olson Wannstead glanced up, then smiled broadly as his son entered his office at corporate headquarters. Ordinarily Brian would have been over in the engineering building, where he had been closely involved with starship construction since finishing his apprenticeship. He still preferred engineering even though he was being forced to pay much more attention to financing these days. At any rate, it was always a pleasure to see Brian for any reason. He was proud of the way he'd turned out. He had even served several years in the Navy and was still active in the reserves.

"Hello Brian. What brings you over here at this time of day? I thought you were trouble-shooting the interfacing of the C class computer navigation setup."

"Oh, that wasn't much of a problem and only for that one ship, the second coming off the line. It's already taken care of. A tech error, nothing more."

Wannstead noticed that something was awry in Brian's countenance. He wasn't nearly as animated as usual. Further, he appeared to have something on his mind.

"So what's your problem? I doubt you dropped by just to see the old man, especially since you and Emily were supposed to be coming for dinner tonight." He raised his brows in question.

Brian slid into a seat in front of his father's desk. He slumped rather than sitting upright as usual.

"Brian?"

"Dad, I've been called up."

"Back to active duty? What on earth for?"

"My orders read to report to Palmdale for a special assignment. You can guess what that means."

" Oh, shit!" The exclamation burst from Wannstead before thinking. He half rose in his seat then dropped back. "Goddamn it! They're going to put you on that ship!"

"That's what it looks like, Dad. Kind of a kick, huh? We sent all those men and women out to investigate the missing ships and now when we decide to leave it to someone else I get called on to go. Ironic, huh?"

Wannstead thought rapidly but ineffectively. "Is ...is there any way to get out of it?"

"Sure. No problem Dad, I could refuse to go and spend twenty years breaking rocks."

"No, no. I didn't mean that. I'm just ..."

"Yeah. Listen, Dad, I'm still getting used to the idea. I haven't even told Emily yet. I'm going home right from here. I'll call a bit later and let you know if we're going to make it tonight." He got up to go.

"Wait! Listen, son, I've got some friends in Washington. I can talk to some people and maybe -"

"No. Don't do anything like that, Dad. How do you think I'd feel if you got me out of this after we sent all those men and women on the same kind of mission and they never returned? I'd feel like shit. No one would ever respect a Wannstead again-or least not me."

"It's better than being dead."

"We don't know that they're dead. Anyhow, I have to go, so let's not argue about it. Okay?"

Wannstead took a deep breath. "If that's the way you want it, son, but damn! Had I known this was going to happen I'd have had second thoughts about calling on the Navy for help."

Brian grinned wryly. "I might've, too, but this is done. Plus, I know a lot of shit about these ships that no one else does-except for you. They could probably use me. If I don't see you tonight, tell Mom I had to leave quickly. It's no lie. I have to report tomorrow and it may take some time to settle Emily down."

Abruptly, Wannstead came around his desk and clasped his only son in a fierce embrace. When it was over he watched him go. He stared at the door he had gone through and wondered if he would ever see him again.

***

"It's a pleasure to meet you in person, sir," Captain Keane said to Admiral Mullins, commanding officer of the United States military space forces. He had barely made it to the new Virginia Octagon in time for his appointment with the admiral after getting lost twice in the labyrinthine mazes of the building.

"Same here, Captain."

"And thanks for the gift."

"Oh, just passing along a tradition. Received that same plaque right before I commanded the Star Gazer. She was one of the first in space, and as you may recall, and the first in a space battle."

Keane knew all too well about the classified encounter of the Star Gazer and the Chinese ship, the Minglong. The Minglong and Star Gazer both reached a newly discovered planet later coined Pecunia Hills. The planet had more gold, silver, diamonds and minerals than anywhere on Earth. It was a heavily volcanic planet that had pumped up the metals to the surface millions of years before. The Star Gazer discovered it first, but somehow the Chinese got wind of the situation and sent in the Minglong. A squabble arose and the two ships wound up in a battle of sorts. The Chinese at first refused to back down. Mullins sent a warning shot across their bow and promised an all-out battle if they didn't accept the American claim on the planet. The incident ended with an exchange of shots that drove the Chinese ship into leaving but the event left a long standing scar between America and the Chinese that hadn't completely healed yet.

"Yes, admiral, your story is required reading at the academy now. And please thank the Navy Secretary for her gift too."

"Actually thought about keeping that one for myself," smiled the Admiral. "But knowing about your mission, I figured you might need it more than me. Now on to business. This is Commander John Dunaway. He's going to be your executive officer. John served as logistics officer on the Sea Wolf so you'll almost certainly begin putting his expertise to work getting ready for the first cruise of your new ship."

Keane shook hands with Dunaway. He hadn't paid any attention to him until the introduction. When Admiral Mullins occupied a room his burly stature and the steady gaze of his sky blue eyes beneath snow white brows and hair got the full attention of everyone until directed otherwise. While he didn't know Dunaway personally, he had worked with a friend who had served with the Commander. According to him, Dunaway was a smart man who didn't talk much but did his job in an exemplary manner. In person he was only medium height and slim. He had a studious expression but carried it well. He had graduated number one at the academy and had a PhD in physics. Hopefully, that would be useful in helping him to understand all the new technology he was going to have to master.

"Have a seat, gentlemen. Coffee?" Mullins came from behind his desk and joined the two subordinates in the area around a low table. He took the single large seat on one side of it, leaving the two on the other side for the Captain and Commander.

Keane took a quick covert glance at the admiral's desk and saw a cup there. "Yes, sir. That would go good after the flight. There was no coffee on the plane."

"No? I'll have to do something about that." He brushed negligently at his white hair while a Chief Petty Officer entered with a coffee service, placed it on the low table and withdrew.

Keane poured for himself and Dunaway, then for the admiral when he retrieved his cup. He took his black and sipped while the other officers were still adding cream and sugar to theirs. It was very good, rich and flavorful, as was to be expected in a full admiral's domain.

Mullins waited until they were each comfortable with filled cups. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands around his knee. He gazed upward at the ceiling for a moment as if wondering how to begin, then looked at them and commenced to speak.

"First of all, gentlemen, what I have to say here is strictly 'need to know'. No repeating any part of it to anyone until and unless it becomes general knowledge. Is that understood?"

Keane nodded in unison with Dunaway.

"Good. Now you both know the military usually doesn't interfere with the Survey Service other than sending along an intelligence officer and a security contingent of marines, but we're making an exception in this case. I'm sure you've already surmised that much since you are both military and Keane is to be the Captain of U.S.S.S. Doc Travis. It just received its name from the President's wife, by the way. It's a new class of ship and was originally slated for the Survey Service but ...circumstances dictated that it be turned over to the military. It will remain under our control permanently. We, in case that term needs clarifying, it includes the President of the United States but not the Joint Chiefs.

"All the Joint Chiefs know is that the Navy has been assigned the first of the new C class interstellar ships and that it's being sent out for extended trials. That should tell you how utterly secret this mission is. In plain words, we don't want it to get out and upset people. You probably don't know it yet but besides the three ships Wannstead has reported missing over the years, another one is overdue and presumed lost. Every one of those ships disappeared while on missions to land near an alien city. The city is located on a planet of a system within a small cluster of stars quite some distance from Earth. The Bolt Cluster, as it's known." He frowned and Keane wrinkled his forehead right along with him. This was getting interesting.

"Whatever is lurking in the Bolt Cluster must be heap bad medicine and we want to know who or what it is," Mullins continued. "Wannstead can't afford to lose another ship so they finally turned the problem over to us. Very reluctantly, I might add, since the city appears to be in pristine condition and most likely contains a wealth of new knowledge and technology. In fact, they named the system and the planet Xanadu."

When he paused, Keane rummaged through his memory and came up with the reference. "In Xanadu Kubla Khan did decree, a stately pleasure dome -"

"Not exactly right, but close," Mullins said, cutting him off. "Anyway, it's unlikely anyone except maybe China or Brazil and us are willing to risk a three hundred billion dollar spaceship on an expedition of this sort. It's just too damn much money. But we, meaning our military, don't like mysteries of this sort. Even so, this may be the only ship the government cares to send if you don't succeed in finding out what's going on in that cluster. Therefore, in accordance with the importance of this mission, the Doc Travis has been almost completely redesigned. Most nations do some jiggering and weaponizing of their ships after Wannstead releases them, but we've gone all out with this one, as you know. If this is the only ship we send, we want it to be overwhelmingly superior to any other starship in existence, human or otherwise.

"Ordinarily a survey vessel carries a platoon of Marines for security aboard ship and for any problems occurring dirtside during explorations. They also provide the military with intelligence on any earth-like planets that are found and are worth colonizing. You, on the other hand, are going to have two companies of Marines, augmented with a heavy weapons platoon. We don't have a clue whether the booger that's killing ships is something in space or on the ground of that planet or another in the cluster, so we've done our best to provide you with weapons to meet any threat. There are quite a few planets in the cluster similar to Earth, by the way. And of course every person on the Pioneer is a volunteer. They don't know where you're going yet and have only been told that it is a dangerous mission. With me so far?"

Keane nodded soberly. Dunaway said "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now comes the prickly part of the brief." He paused and eyed them in a manner that reminded Keane of one of his professors in graduate school, a mean son of a bitch he'd wanted to strangle more than once, but he admitted he had learned from the man.

"What do you gentlemen think we're investigating? A natural phenomenon as yet unknown to science? An alien species that doesn't care for the cut of our jib? Or something else?"

Keane was taken aback. His mind raced over all he remembered of what the Admiral had just said and what he knew of physical dangers in deep space. Surprisingly, it turned out to very little that wasn't already public knowledge. There was some speculation and a few reports about unexpected gravity frame-shifting in star clusters but most theorists thought it couldn't be enough to endanger a ship. Rarely, a spaceship other than the ones Wannstead had reported did go missing. In most case the prevailing public and popular opinion was BEMS, the speculative Bug Eyed Monsters of pulp science fiction, had been encountered at last. The public's attitude was divided on whether or not humans made tasty meals for the aliens.

"Sir, I really don't know much about what has caused the ships to disappear that can be attributed to fact. I'd be inclined to approach the area very slowly and cautiously, though, and if we find a planet other than Xanadu that looks to be inhabitable, to be even more cautious."

Dunaway said even less, merely noting that he thought speculation was inherently incapable of determining what was killing the ships, if indeed they had been killed and not somehow captured. By what, he refused to guess.

"Come, come gentlemen," Mullins remonstrated. "Think harder."

"Human intervention?" Keane ventured after a long moment of sifting through his memories. "Has some other country stumbled onto that alien city and managed to solve whatever the problem is?" He shrugged helplessly.

Dunaway said nothing.

"Very good, Captain Keane. Add humans to be on the lookout for, even if it does seem to be a very low probability. With our one and only advanced ship to risk, it doesn't pay to overlook any possibility, no matter how remote. That's one reason for adding such a powerful telescope to your weapons array. Besides China and Brazil, only the EU and Russia and India are possibilities."

"But sir ...how ...I mean why would anyone do something like that? Be willing to mix it up with us, since Wannstead's ships are registered with the United States? It doesn't make sense for anyone to take that kind of risk, does it?" Dunaway asked.

"Tell that to the Chinese. Wars and more wars have been started for less than logical reasons," Mullins said, reminiscing about his encounter with Minglong.

Keane tugged at an ear lobe and considered the idea. He remembered an article he'd read in Space News, a magazine with a small circulation and no advertising. He had subscribed to it for years. "Haven't there been reports of Wannstead Industries building a colony somewhere? I know they have the right but if they've ever exercised it they haven't announced the fact publicly."

"Give the man a teddy bear. Yes, and our intelligence service knows the reports are accurate. Wannstead actually has two colonies somewhere but our agencies also discount the possibility of Wannstead being the culprit in this case. Otherwise, why turn it over to us? As Commander Dunaway says, it doesn't make sense for him, not to mention anyone else, to risk everything they own to keep others away from a colony. Besides, he's given us the location and a recording of the alien city."

Keane mentally reviewed what he knew of Wannstead. He had to admit he had little comprehension of how the mind of a man such as Wannstead operated. His stature as the son of the inventor of the quantum drive and associated gravity technology, and the fact that he had used those inventions to drive a bargain no one had thought possible, made him a figure larger than life, even to the point where most people believed he actually made the inventions himself rather than his father. Keane thought he rightfully should be given credit for what he had accomplished in the course of his life. His political manipulations, and his industrial complex that manufactured the great interstellar space ships, had pushed the world from space flight no farther than the moon into interstellar exploration and colonization of planets light years from Earth in a single generation, and did it without a war. Even so, it didn't seem possible for him to be manipulating the Navy in a situation like this. He said so.

"I agree," Mullins said. He spread his hands in a gesture of explanation. "Starships are rather hard to kill unless they're on the ground or ....have compromised computer systems."

"Yes, sir," Keane said. "But ...I suppose his status would tend to make him think he can get away with things we ordinary mortals can't, though."

"That's true," Dunaway agreed.

"All right, enough of this speculation. I just wanted to jack you around a bit and make certain your minds are working. You've got to be aware of every possible threat. Now." He tapped a spot on his desk and a galactoview came up. He pointed. "According to Wannstead, all the missing ships had the cluster in general and Xanadu in particular on their itinerary. Intelligence has gone over their intended routes so we're suggesting you take a different approach. Right now, though, I want you to take a gander at the city."

"Great!" Keane exclaimed. No other alien species had been discovered so far, nor any remnant of one other than what Wannstead had found. He was anxious to see what it looked like.

Mullins dimmed the lights and brought up a holoscreen. Keane leaned forward, peering closely at the recording as it played. Several views from orbit showed the alien city from different angles. Toward the last the experimental ship had come in closer, giving a better view. The city was circular. The scale below it told him it was more than five miles in diameter. The outer part that consisted of spires and domes was almost two miles across and surrounded an inner circle of predominantly green vegetation a mile in diameter. The recordings were all fuzzy from being seen through atmosphere but it was still apparent that the buildings were undamaged by time. The spires glowed faintly with a pink color. The domes were a light blue. The square buildings were silver. It was hard to tell but he suspected there were walkways or streets circling the buildings and running through the city. He could see no movement except for large machinery in the unfinished part of the alien metropolis because the recording had been taken from too far away. If the place was inhabited, the beings were undetectable.

"Damn, it looks as if it's never been lived in, doesn't it?" Dunaway remarked.

"Uh huh. No telling how old it is but did you notice there was no sign of encroachment from the jungle surrounding it? No debris anywhere we can see?"

"I noticed the buildings had a faint glow. Are they lighted from within? Or is it the material they're made of?"

"We don't know, although spectrographic and other analytical recordings were made." Mullins leaned back in his chair and went into lecture mode. "The analysts think the faint glow is inherent in the building material, which, by the way, is a composite never seen before. There are a few more interesting features not noticeable in the recordings. The city is under power. Emission recordings found all sorts of subatomic particles, although none that would be threatening to humans. Our people, as well as Wannstead's scientists, think its fusion power. Gravitic activity was also detected. No one is taking guesses on what that might mean."

"How about the vegetation? Is it chlorophyll based?" Keane asked.

"Good question. Yes it is. That is a really good world if it could be colonized, Xanadu city or not."

"Did any of Wannstead's ships have orders to land anywhere other than near the city? Or do we know?"

"Another good question. Wannstead told us all his ships were under instructions to investigate other earth-type planets in the cluster on the way but other than that he left it to the discretion of their Captains. They still didn't come back."

"So ..." Dunaway began to say something but his voice trailed off.

"Hence the Doc Travis." Keane furnished.

"Odd name for an interstellar space ship, isn't it?" Dunaway commented.

" Doc Travis is the nickname of a science fiction writer. He was very popular until he retired from writing about twenty years ago. He was also a damned fine physicist, and probably still is. He popularized the Casimer phenomena which gave Rex Wannstead the first hints of how the quantum drive he ultimately developed might work," Keane explained, drawing a raised brow from the admiral, but he made no vocal comment.

"How many of the crew will be military other than the Marines?" Dunaway asked.

"It will be about half and half. Most of the operational crew will be military personnel, experienced ones. Almost all your officers and enlisted personnel have served aboard an interstellar ship. The rest of the personnel will be mostly service techs and scientists. I understand you've met Lieutenant Fred Jergens, your electronics warfare officer. All the others will be top notch scientists and technicians, the best we could enlist for a dangerous mission. You're going into the unknown so we want to give you every advantage we can."

"What do we know about the Bolt Cluster, sir? Other than it contains a planet that appears to be adverse to exploration," Keane asked.

The admiral shrugged and grinned. "Succinct way of putting it. Not much. It's mostly obscured from our solar system so the stars in it haven't been studied that much. Your astrogator knows as much as anyone. She'll brief you in much better detail than I could. And by the way, you'll be leaving in sixty days."

Chapter Four: Sinchik Slavery

Life without the courage for death is slavery.

- Lucius Annaeus Seneca

"Toug! Come!"

"Shit!"Douglas Trevanne cursed, wondering what the sonofabitch wanted now. It wasn't as if he was called on to perform onerous chores very often but he still resented having to answer to the bastards. In fact, his status as a household slave gave him a life considerably better than most other humans here on this world, but he absolutely hated the aliens he was forced to obey. Nevertheless, he got quickly to his feet from where he had been lounging in his Wah, the Sinchik term designated for his living area, a tiny single room with a faucet for washing and a hole for sanitary use. He hurried out into the passageway that led to Frang's den. He stopped at the open arch and stamped his foot and said " Jah!" in a loud voice. Even after fifteen years he still wasn't sure of its exact meaning other than as a term of respect humans were forced to use toward Sinchiks of whatever gender or status.

Frang turned both turreted eyes toward him. The alien motioned with one of his second tier appendages for Doug to enter. He walked forward until he was two steps distance from the alien and bowed, gritting his teeth as he did. The furry creature looked somewhat like a large, fat, ten-legged caterpillar except that its upper four appendages were used for manipulation.

"You are to be bred for the next week. A favored female of the Stronge Welshass has been selected and is in fertile status. Report to Stronge's den. Carry on well."

"Jah! Where is Stronge's den?" Stupid fuck!

Frang leaned forward as if he was on the verge of rising on his two heavy rear appendages and cuffing him. He braced himself to accept the reprimand stolidly. The alien apparently decided he wasn't being disrespectful and resumed his previous position with his middle two limbs on a rest in front of him, his bottom four on the floor and upper four free for use.

"It is located in the Beta section. Ask any Sinchik when you arrive. They will instruct you further."

"Jah! I obey." He turned and departed, walking slowly as became a human in the presence of a 'Sinchik'. That wasn't the exact pronunciation but it was as close as humans could come to the name the species used for themselves.

It was raining outside, a slow dripping he knew wouldn't quit soon. No help for it, he would get wet. It was never a good idea to delay in carrying out an order, no matter what the weather was like outside.

The Beta section was a long way off, on the other side of the central city area reserved for crops. Some of it was being allowed to lie fallow. For reasons unknown, the number of Sinchiks had been decreasing since construction of the last part of the city was completed. He had rarely been to Beta section but he could see the Stronge spire in the distance, probably two miles from where he stood outside the domed enclave of Frang's family, or ' Welshass' as the Sinchik called it. Frang's family consisted of it, two other males of indeterminate status, and a dozen or so females. Plus a half dozen humans. He had yet to decide whether Frang or one of the females was the ultimate honcho of their Welshass, not that it really mattered. He was bound to obey them all, just as other humans in the family were.

They were all slaves, pure and simple, although he suspected the Sinchik had never owned slaves before they encountered humans. After the surrender they worked at it clumsily, using up a number of humans in the process until arriving at a system that seemed to suit them. The humans hadn't been asked. Nor were they consulted when occasionally one of them was taken away and never seen again. Many were originally questioned on the location of Earth, but Wannstead had a ship failsafe that deleted all star charts and records-and that made explaining the exact location of home difficult, if not impossible. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the astrogators from each ship had died. Some speculated they were imbued with a hypnotic compulsion that required suicide if questioned about Earth's location by aliens. Doug thought the death of the Jeane Baptiste astrogator Helmsley was strange-rumored to be a heart attack soon after crash landing. No one knew for certain, though.

As he walked through the crop-growing area over the heat-glazed trail toward Beta section, drops of rain filtered through the canopy of fern-like trees above the path. They dripped on his head and ran beneath the collar of the remnants of his Wannstead uniform. It was in a sad state of repair but he stuck with it as a matter of principle, one of the few the Sinchik allowed. It was just about all that was left to remind him of who and what he had once been. He thought again of the events that had led him here, he and the other surviving crew of the Jean Baptiste, the Wannstead starship that had been disabled by the Sinchik almost two decades ago. It had been on an exploratory voyage to the Bolt Cluster, a group of stars with a relative plethora of earth-type planets discovered on a preliminary voyage by Wannstead's first experimental interstellar ship, the Liberty.

The Jeane Baptiste had been the next ship entering the cluster, intending to stop and cautiously explore some of earthlike planets along the way, but landing on the planet Xanadu, near the alien city given the same name, was the primary mission. Instead, the ship had been disabled then caught in a tractor beam and brought down. Hard. He and the other security specialists aboard had fought the aliens that boiled out of Xanadu after their ship was captured, leading the surviving crew in the battle. It had been hopeless from the start, and contrary to the Captain's orders. They were outgunned, outnumbered and overwhelmed quickly. When Captain Susan McDevitt again ordered them to surrender they had done so. As a previous pilot of the elite Air Force X-Vulture squadron, it went against his grain and that of most of the crew, but they had seen that resistance was hopeless. Many times since he and others wished they had disregarded her order because surrendering wound up making slaves of every surviving human, including himself. Those who didn't submit were beaten and not infrequently killed for being slow to recognize their new status.

An underground resistance movement had been formed but it was a fragile thing, with only about a quarter of the survivors belonging to it because of the punishment if caught with weapons or any other rebellious paraphernalia. It took only one example to keep the underground well and truly in check. He still shuddered when he remembered how he and all the other humans had been forced to watch Seegers being flayed alive. He screamed and cried out in horrible agony. Soon he was begging them to kill him and be done with it.

Doug still couldn't decide if it was deliberate cruelty, for he had also caught a glimpse of a Sinchik having the same thing done to it. At the very least, he could see that the punishment wasn't something designed specifically for humans - which didn't make the idea any more pleasant. It wasn't even possible to escape into the forest and live there, not without proper weapons. The carnivores had no fear of humans and they were fierce, not something you ever wanted to tackle with anything less than a heavy caliber rifle.

He wondered why he was being sent to Beta section to breed. Families might mix but they rarely took their humans along. In fact, he wondered why they were attempting to purposefully breed humans in the first place. There had been enough viable pregnancies already, especially after the contraceptive implants for both sexes ran out, although many women refused to have sex because they didn't want their children to grow up as slaves. Others did, holding out hope of rescue someday or for other reasons of their own. Perhaps the Sinchik had decided to breed for one trait or another-perhaps obedience? But if that were the case they were making a mistake with him! He simply pretended to be submissive while very carefully fomenting rebellion, preparing as well as he could if the chance ever came.

Or maybe the Sinchik wanted even more slaves to replace their reduced population? Sometimes he wondered about the alien psychology. He thought the status of humans on this world was more a matter of the Sinchik colonists taking opportunistic advantage of the surviving humans, rather than slavery being an ingrained institution of the species. No one even knew why they had fired on the Jeane Baptiste in the first place, and the Sinchik not only didn't talk about it, but questions were expressly forbidden.

For weeks after the surrender all the humans were held in one of the city's domed buildings and forced to learn the language of their captors. After that they had been parceled out to different Sinchik families with no compassion at all about separating married couples or lovers. Bastards. He hated their very guts even though he supposed he should consider himself lucky to be alive at all, along with the others. The food they were given, while generally tasteless, seemed to supply all the nutrients humans required. Perhaps those first ones who were taken away had been used to find that out. He shuddered at the thought of how the Sinchiks might have gone about it.

The trail widened out into a regular yellow-colored passageway marking the end of the central crop area of the city. He had to travel almost two more miles before reaching his destination. It was all a mix of spires, domes and rectangles with passageways between and among them, and with numerous arched openings into the interior of the buildings. Beta section, the home of several different families, was composed entirely of the one huge spire he was finally standing in front of. He had no idea where to begin looking for the Stronge den. He walked hesitantly through the nearest arched entrance and was immediately hailed by a Sinchik female holding out a balled appendage, an order to halt. It was easy to tell the gender. Females always had solid brown fur while males ran a gamut of colors and mixes, but never brown.

"Jah! I have been sent to the Stronge den," he said quickly to avoid being cuffed.

She hit him anyway, although not hard. He took it as stoically as possible. Females usually didn't strike very forcefully. It was the degradation he hated.

"Go there." She pointed a three-fingered middle arm toward several arched entrances in the courtyard into which he'd entered. One of them must lead into the bowels of the place or more likely directly into the Stronge den, The name didn't imply a den in human terms, but a series of rooms and cellars, living and working areas and all else that occupied a family. Including the human quarters.

"Jah!" he said and hurried that way before she decided to really let him have it. The courtyard was bare except for benches along the walls and a pool in the center. His bare calloused feet left marks on the surface of the floor which he knew some human would later be scrubbing off but there was nothing he could do about it. His boots had worn out long ago and his owner declined to furnish replacements of any sort.

He halted at the first archway, uncertain of how to proceed. He waited a moment, hoping someone would come. He was rewarded by a prepubescent boy dressed only in a worn loincloth coming into sight from the interior hallway. He stopped suddenly at the sight of Doug.

"I'm looking for the Stronge den. Can you tell me where it is?" he asked in English.

"This is Stronge," the boy said in Sinchik. It made Doug wonder if he even knew English. He might not and have only recognized the Sinchik family name.

"I've been sent here to be bred," he told the boy.

The youngster stared dumbly at him for a moment then motioned and turned away. Doug followed him down the hall and to another arched entrance, this one curtained. His eyes tracked the boy as they walked, feeling sorrow and compassion for the youth, growing up with little inkling of the glories of the home world or even its colonies, if Earth had colonies and hadn't been conquered by now. He certainly had no idea, but the Sinchik had originally been very curious about the location of Earth. If they had been told anything, no one knew what they had done with the knowledge. That was one of the worst things about their situation, not knowing what might be happening back on Earth.

"Here?"

"Jah," he answered as if Doug was his superior.

Doug grimaced at the way the boy spoke but it wasn't his problem other than in a broad sense. "Hello!" he called and parted the curtains. He stepped inside.

A naked woman with flowing red-blonde hair rolled off the low lounge she had been sitting on and came to her feet. She took one look at him and turned her back.

"Buster, if you came here to get laid, you may as well go back where you came from. I'm not raising a kid to grow up as a slave."

***

"I don't know where we're going," the tall rangy NCO with six stripes and a diamond in the middle of the chevrons and rockers said. He was answering Corporal Dan Bullet's question, the first one after his short brief on the alert the unit had just received. First Sergeant Ian Watkins spoke with a very slight lisp from a scar that began near the corner of his mouth and ran up the left side of his face to near the hairline. "All I can tell you at this point is that it'll be an extra-solar mission."

The corporal nodded his thanks soberly but Watkins could see how hard he was trying not to grin with excitement. It made him nostalgic for a moment, remembering when he had been that young and enthusiastic about going off on hazardous missions, having not a thought in the world that he might die in the process. All youngsters thought they were immortal. It took seeing the bloody carcasses of friends and comrades to remove those deep-felt thoughts that it could never happen to you.

And of course, Watkins did know where they were headed. The clandestine network of senior grade enlisted marines had passed that bit of intelligence on to him but he'd never reveal the source. He was more likely to turn his back on an enemy than do that. They were going to the area of a small cluster of stars where interstellar ships regularly disappeared, three so far, a potential clusterfuck, or so he figured. Otherwise, why the need for six hundred marines? He'd also heard there was something unusual on a planet within the cluster but that was as far as it went. What it meant to him was that he needed his troops even more prepared. Lots of bullets, bombs and extra weapons, Watkins thought as he looked out at the marines in the base gymnasium. The gym also served as an auditorium.

As he continued answering such questions as he could, he couldn't help wondering what might be waiting for them out there. He, like all the others here, had volunteered for this particular unit, a strange bob-tailed battalion of two companies, consisting of three platoons each, and with a heavy weapons platoon and a headquarters platoon added. It counted a shade over six hundred troops overall and was top-heavy with combat-experienced NCOs and junior officers. Each platoon registered eighty of the toughest and most experienced marines available, drawn from all over the Corps.

A few navy Seals and Black Op Special Forces were aboard, but they seemed to stay out of the way and kept to themselves. Watkins once had a bar fight with a Seal which he'd won by finally smashing a beer bottle over the man's head; he'd never really appreciated the attempt to steal his lady. But that was when he was younger and a little less wise. Whatever the mission entailed on this extra-solar excursion, he thought it would be a fitting capstone to his career. He had volunteered for exotic-world training shortly after the quantum drive opened up their little corner of the galaxy to exploration and gone on to see action on a number of planets. He read incessantly about the colony worlds and what was being found on them and how other marine units had fared during initial explorations. Some worlds were wimps while others had been very tough customers indeed, with high casualty counts. But this trip seemed different.

First Sergeant Watkins noticed that Corporal Barbara Zembra, a rifle expert and backup loader for the heavy machine gun of the second squad in the first platoon of A Company, was sitting up front near the podium, listening attentively. She was also sitting rather closer than necessary to Corporal Bullet. He smiled, but only to himself. Opening up the combat arms to females added a bit of extra elan to the special units, but also gave senior sergeants such as himself extra worries as well. Zembra had a nice-looking if rather plain face but her exquisitely curved body more than made up for any deficiencies there. He saw her and Bullet in a relationship and knew it probably wouldn't be long before those two were an item. Mixing the sexes in combat had worked better than even the enthusiasts had predicted and if it caused a few extra problems as well, it was no more than any new innovation in the military did until the bugs were worked out.

"Do you know what ship we'll be on, First Sergeant?" A young PFC who had just joined the unit asked.

He had heard something about their prospective ship being a brand new one called the Doc Travis but it hadn't been formally announced yet so he couldn't say anything. However ..."I believe all you young heroes would be well served if you prepare for a long mission and a ship that has plenty of room. That's about all I know at present."

"How about environment? Any data there?" A private piped up.

Watkins thought momentarily of chewing him out for such a stupid-ass question but quickly stifled the urge. The boy might not be coming back. Instead he said: "You're all volunteers so you should know this may be a hairy sonofabitch. You also should be aware if you'd bother using a few brain cells that we won't know what kind of climate we'll be operating in until we fucking get there, so there's no specific environment for us to prepare for-except I suspect it'll be raining bullets, grenades, and bombs on any assholes that get in our way. That right Marines?"

"Oorah!" yelled out the unit.

"But what you should do is make damn certain all your equipment is in shape and then find some way to sneak an extra ammo load or two on board. I don't have to tell you old salts how, so you be sure and instruct our young comrades properly. Clear?"

"Oorah!" the NCOs shouted in unison.

"All right, then. Get to it." Watkins turned and walked from the room, shoulders back and body as ramrod straight as it had been at eighteen, thirty years ago when he'd kicked that Seal's ass.

Chapter Five: Nice to know I'm wanted

I didn't mean to say that the Enterprise should be hauling garbage. I meant to say that it should be hauled away as garbage" - Korax (The Trouble With Tribbles)

Brian climbed out of the golf cart and paused long enough to stare up at the huge bulk of the starship. Even though he had been around them all his life this was the first time he had seen the new C class by itself, away from the factory. It was even more impressive seeing it this way, he decided. He was proud of the part he had played in its design, giving it more power and thrust and a much more finely tuned gravitic regulator despite its greater size. He wondered what had been done internally since it left the Wannstead assembly building. He hoped any improvements DARPA had come up with would be enough to overcome whatever enigma that made ships in the Bolt Cluster disappear. He also wondered if the Navy knew that there wasn't a clue as to whether the ships were destroyed going into the cluster, trying to land on Xanadu, or even whether they were held captive by some unknown force and not hurt at all.

Whatever, he figured it wouldn't be too long until he found out. He made some minor adjustments to his new uniform and climbed the ramp up into the bowels of the Doc Travis. He traveled down a passageway while thinking what an apt name Doc Travis was. The scientist and science fiction writer it was named after was the co-author of one particular science fiction series that caused hair to stand up on the neck of anyone reading it, and the spaceship used in the series for battling aliens was also new and powerful, if only imaginary. He just hoped they came out as well in the end, although he thought he would settle for a few less casualties. He took an elevator to a higher deck and began traipsing along still another passageway toward the bridge, more commonly known in the Space Navy as the Control Room.

"Sir?" Brian said tentatively to the back of the man sitting in the captain's chair. He supposed it was Captain Keane but wasn't certain. The man turned around and Brian's eyes flicked to the eagles on the collar of his uniform.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, I'm Lieutenant Brian Wannstead. I've been recalled and assigned to the Doc Travis."

The Captain looked nonplussed for a moment as he stared at the well built young officer with blond hair and startlingly blue eyes. Then his face brightened. " Wannstead, you say? From Wannstead Industries?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, by God, welcome aboard!" He got up and strode forward, holding out his hand. "I'm Captain Trent Keane, commanding."

Nice to know I'm wanted, Brian thought. "Thank you sir," he said. "I'm glad to meet you."

"How much do you know about this class of ship, Lieutenant?"

Brian grinned. "I was the engineering officer in charge of bringing it on line, sir. I was with it from concept to carpeting. Anything about the basic specs you need to know I can probably help you with, although some of the specialized technical matters are a little out of my line. However, if I don't know, I'm sure I can find the answer pretty quickly for you." He had a PhD in engineering and knew more about most technical aspects of the ship than most of the development team who'd worked for him.

Before reporting aboard he had obtained a confidential biography of the Captain. Keane was known for being somewhat intense on ship matters, probably why he was chosen for the job. A super detailed, hard working and brilliantly creative captain was what his father's confidential report had said. He also matched the photo that came with the report. A big man in his early forties, with dark brown hair graying at the temples and a square jaw. The report also said that given the chance, the man was willing to talk for hours about ship systems in order to improve his knowledge of them.

Captain Keane smiled. "I'm sure you'll work out fine, Lieutenant. Come on over here and have a seat. I'll put you to work right now. Umm, no, I guess you'd like to see your quarters first, wouldn't you?"

"Whatever suits you, sir."

"Good. Let me ask you just a few questions, then we'll get you squared away."

"My pleasure, sir. Shoot," Brian responded.

The "few questions" lasted a good three hours before Keane suddenly realized how much time had passed.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to keep you this long. You know more about this ship than I imagined. Hang loose for a moment and I'll get Chief Mura to escort you to your stateroom. You can take tomorrow to get yourself squared away and learn your way around the ship and ...wait! You should already know it better than anyone aboard or else you've been bullshitting me." He grinned. "Just take the morning off to get situated and then report here to the control room at 1130 hours. We'll go to lunch and you can meet some of the other officers."

"That will be fine, sir. Thank you."

Keane nodded abstractedly. His attention was already buried in another three dimensional diagram of the bow of the ship where most of the weapons were fired from. Brian could see that he was fixated on having all the ship's weapons system fully operational, properly manned, and knowing as much as possible about them.

Brian wasn't unhappy. Keane seemed to be a good sort and even more enthusiastic about the ship than he had been while working it up. He would have been almost glad to have been called back to active duty if it hadn't been for the specter of Xanadu and the missing ships looming over the coming mission.

***

Keane scrubbed his burning eyes with his knuckles. He'd been studying hard, practically living in the great ship concealed beneath the hanger at the Skunk Works. He wandered purposely through the passageways, living quarters, cargo bays, fighting stations, engineering sections and every other space that could be accessed until he could visualize practically every square meter of the starship. He examined the new weapons systems and the machinery and instrumentation that powered them, then studied the specs until he knew them practically by heart. He went on to look at the four marine assault shuttles with their own weapons systems. Always, though, he returned to the control room where he would become the living embodiment of Doc Travis.

He was enormously pleased that someone in the crew assignment department had the sagacity to recall Wannstead to duty. He would certainly be a great help. Just because Keane had memorized so much of the inside of the ship didn't mean he knew everything about it, and there were countless places where access hatches had to be opened to get at the real bowels, the wiring, plumbing and electrical network that meshed the physical parts together into a working whole. Brian had to understand more about this than anyone. The Wannsteads were known for their technical brilliance and if there was a battle Keane wanted someone like Wannstead around.

He always thought of their mission when visiting the control room, trying to visualize a shadowy menace that lurked on Xanadu, a menace with interstellar star ships as its prey. Each time he vowed to himself that whatever it was, it would never get his ship nor harm its crew. He had room for optimism. The engineers and theorists had put a great deal of time and effort into turning a regular interstellar ship into a thing of lethal beauty. It was as different from its predecessors in armament and electronic assets as a lady's automatic pistol was from a machine gun.

If this baby can't crack the mystery, nothing we have in the pipeline I know of can, he thought. And there was always the risk of bringing back home whatever was possibly destroying the ships. That would not be allowed. The Space Navy had a contingency plan for everything, and the confidential self-destruct that was secretly installed on the Doc Travis reminded him of not only the responsibly and obligation he had for the ship and its crew, but for humanity too. Alien contact was not defined by the Space Navy as something safe. It was a risk humanity took in order to expand into the Galaxy.

He looked at his watch and decided to call it a day, or night, rather. Doc Travis was powered up to idle so that the basic operating systems were workable. Such as hot water for a shower, he thought. Too bad there wouldn't be anyone waiting in the bed afterwards, though. When he returned from the last cruise he found that Mary had reneged on her promise to wait on him. Not even the courtesy to tell me in person, he thought with dismay, remembering how he'd felt then. Later he thought that loneliness was probably a factor in her decision. Navy life had always been hard on those left behind but it was even worse now. An interstellar voyage seldom lasted much less than a year and sometimes the ships were gone two years or more before returning to their home port.

This meant that a lot of the time, shipboard alliances became a more suitable solution to maintaining a romance than trying to do it long distance, especially when there wasn't even a means of communication as had been the case in the past. The only thing wrong with onboard relationships was that captains had to be very careful or someone was sure to accuse them of favoritism. And there was also the problem of chain of command, which stated that pairings between superior and subordinate were forbidden. Hell, he might be retired before ever bonding with a woman and having the relationship last, he thought moodily.

He locked his office and headed back to the captain's cabin, where he stripped off his working fatigues and was soon immersed in a soothing flow of hot water beating on tired muscles. He let it go on for long minutes before lathering his hair and rinsing it. He had just flushed the last of the suds from his body when his wrist tingled. Damn! Now who could that be this time of night?

He shut off the water so he could hear. "Captain Keane."

"Captain, you have a message from Admiral Mullins," the voice of Chief Petty Officer Wanna Mura, his enlisted aide came from his wrist comp. "It's marked urgent."

"Got it, Chief. Thanks. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

He dried off and dressed quickly in a working uniform before sitting down in front of the com console in his quarters. He tapped the screen to bring it on line then punched for urgent mail. Instead of a recording he got Admiral Mullins in person. Startled, the weariness left his body and he sat up straighter.

"Yes, sir?"

"Trent, I'm sorry to get you out of bed this time of night, but we've just received some new intelligence. It seems that there's been a leak. Somehow the media has learned that there's something important going on in the Bolt Cluster. Goddamn politicians, even the President can't keep a fucking secret. He probably mentioned it to one of his staff or told his wife in bed or some goddamned thing."

Keane reflected a moment. The Admiral was plainly unhappy. "What does that mean to us, sir?"

Mullins shrugged as he smiled mirthlessly. "We don't know. What it means to you personally is that you're going to be leaving sooner than we thought. While the spooks don't know yet how other space-faring nations might react, it doesn't bode well. They think you should get cracking now."

"Are any of the intelligence agencies willing to speculate on how well armed our competition might be?"

"Yes. They say not nearly as well as the Doc Travis by a wide margin. I don't think that's what has their panties twisted, though. The last advisory I received from group intelligence concerning the missing ships still gives a five per cent possibility that humans are involved. And if that's the case, China's a suspect, along with the military of several other nations."

Keane frowned. Again the Chinese? But this did not make sense. "Still, I don't see ..."

The admiral held up his hand to interrupt him. "What I really think is that someone at the top is afraid that whatever the enigma is causing ships to be lost, some other nation might solve it before we get there and then claim the city. The administration is hoping the Doc Travis can solve the puzzle quickly and put our stamp on it. It doesn't make sense to Naval Intelligence, though. Anything less than Doc Travis is liable to fall prey to the Boojum and they also have doubts about anyone else being willing to risk losing a three hundred billion dollar starship." He spread his hands in a disgusted manner.

"I suppose asking us to hurry up makes some kind of addled, left-handed sense but they can forget about us rushing," replied Keane, bluntly. "None of the weapons systems aboard have been tested, nor have the major operating systems been cleared for action. If we are ordered to go now then of course we'll obey, but I won't risk my ship by jacking around with safety parameters unless I see a direct threat, or a very good reason to. As is, we'll have to get our training on the way and that's bad enough."

Mullins laughed. "I told Jeff that's what you'd say. Nevertheless, your orders have you leaving as soon as safely possible. I know you haven't had your space trials yet but every system that's been added has been worked to a fare-thee-well. You'll have several months en route to go over them, but I don't expect you to have many mechanical problems. Even if you do, you have a shitload of spares in your cargo and a machine ship that can repair anything short of being broken in two. At any rate, we're issuing alerts to your crew and your marines. As soon as they're all aboard and you're loaded, you're free to go."

"Yes, sir. I'm glad I put in all that time studying the new goodies. I ought to be able to understand at least every third word of what Lieutenants Jergens and Wannstead tell me when they're explaining something now. We'll get it done, sir."

"Good man. Get your ship organized and provisioned. I'll expect you to give me a tentative departure date within three days."

"Yes, sir," Keane said.

"Right. I'll say good night, then. We'll talk again before you leave. Oh, wait! One more thing. The Santa Cruz has been diverted from her mission and sent toward the Bolt Cluster. You're to catch up and rendezvous with them. The specific system where you'll meet will be in your departure orders."

"Do you think I'll need help, sir? From the Santa Cruz?"

"It's just a precaution. As you're well aware the Santa Cruz is first generation, an A Class, and will be little more than a chase ship there to record and scoot back home if you run into trouble. Its sole function is as backup and to record what happens. Doc Travis will do the initial investigation while Santa Cruz hangs back. If your ship is captured, destroyed or otherwise incapacitated, their orders will be to disengage from the system immediately and return to Earth with whatever intelligence they have. That way we'll get at least an inkling of what the fuck's going on out there. Now, good night, Captain."

"Good night, sir." But Mullins had already cut contact.

Keane got very little sleep that night, nor much for several nights to come. He was able to tell his admiral two days later that the Doc Travis could leave Earth in ten days, perhaps nine. It reflected well on the crew and absolved him of a few fears, but there was no getting away from the fact that very shortly his ship would be going in harm's way, and it hadn't even been tested!

***

Marine Captain Cindy Cantrell, Executive Officer of the Marine Expeditionary Unit aboard Doc Travis, thought it fortunate that she would not be interacting much with Captain Keane or Commander Dunaway. Her courtesy rank - she had to follow the silly custom of no more than one "captain" aboard a navy ship - would be "Major", the same rank as Major Rambling, the commander of the marine detachment. But she knew she was in good company. Major Steel Rambling was a straight, no bullshit, get-the-job-done leader. People said he never smiled and that he worked out at the gym two hours each day religiously.

He wasn't unattractive despite his ears and nose being bit overlarge but Cindy felt that anyone who didn't smile much, even on the off hours, was a little strange. But he did have good instincts. He requested Cindy and others to sneak aboard more ammo than the marines normally smuggled into their ships. He said he suspected 'the excrement was going to hit the rotary impellor' once they arrived at their destination. Shit, if this was a boat, the damned thing would probably sink from all the stores beyond what the specs called for. But she was assured that the new class ship with its modified quantum drives could fly with twice the weight. A good thing since it seemed like every damned person on the ship was trying to find ways to smuggle extra weapons and ammo on board. What was the captain hiding? What had the top sergeant told the troops to get them so stirred up? Where the hell were they going?

Cindy tried to curb those questions and perform her job. She felt nearly overwhelmed with the manifold duties of getting the rump battalion of marines supplied, armed and berthed in Doc Travis in preparation for a mission that might last as long as two years. It involved many factors not ordinarily necessary for the fighting force if deployed on Earth. Fortunately, some of the problems had long been taken into account with the small platoon-sized forces that normally accompanied starships. Others hadn't been, in particular the assault shuttles.

There were four of the boats, each manned by a crew of six. A single boat could accommodate a hundred marines or even more in a pinch, along with armament and supplies for a two week mission. They were new, never having been needed before since the starships were capable of landing on planets. She wasn't exactly sure why they had been designed, built and assigned to Doc Travis for this mission but it was her duty to see that they were properly fitted out and armed. She found herself yawning and knew she needed a break. Besides, it was almost time for dinner and the Captain had requested all senior officers be present. She stood up, closed the documents in her desk, saved the work on the computer and headed for her stateroom to freshen up.

There were two new faces she hadn't seen before when she arrived, slightly late. Fortunately, Captain Keane wasn't present yet, either. She headed for the wet bar, thinking how glad she was that the Space Navy, at least, had relented on the blue water navy ban of alcoholic beverages in its ships.

"Hello," she said to the good-looking blond navy lieutenant she hadn't met before.

"Good evening, Captain," he said, ignoring the custom of calling captains majors since Captain Keane wasn't present. Since he was a senior grade lieutenant, their ranks were equivalent.

"You're new," she said.

"Brian Wannstead, formerly with Wannstead Industries. I was recalled for this mission."

"Cindy Cantrell. I'm XO of the MEU."

"Can I get you anything? I need a refresher."

"Sure. Scotch on the rocks."

She accepted the glass from him and as she did noticed the wedding ring. Drat! There weren't that many men she'd seen so far that were both interesting and eligible, considering her rank and position, and had thought he might be a possibility. Despite the ring she couldn't help noticing his circumspect observation of her appearance. Her auburn hair and petite, generously curved body made that a common occurrence.

"Thanks. What's your duty, Brian?"

"Engineering, formally, but special assistant to the Captain, informally. I was involved with the design and manufacture of the Class C ships, like the Doc Travis. It's the first to be completed."

"Great! We'll have at least one person who knows their way around it."

"You'll have two," he corrected her. "Captain Keane has already gotten most of it under his belt. He's a demon for work."

"We all know that. Do we have a departure date yet? I've been so busy, this is the first time I've had to myself when not in bed." Thinking how that might sound, she attempted to elaborate. "I meant not asleep."

He laughed. "I knew what you meant. In answer to your question, four days from today if all goes well. Most of the crew and your marines are already aboard. Right now it's just loading of supplies someone decided we needed at the last moment that's holding us up. Commander Dunaway's been busy with the weapons so you probably won't see him here this time."

Brian took his eyes off Cindy and looked at the captain entering.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," Captain Keane said as he came into the dining room, which also served as a conference room upon occasion.

There was a chorus of replies, drinks being discarded and a movement toward seats. Shortly stewards began bringing in the salads.

During the dinner Cindy noticed that some of the officers looked at Wannstead rather askance, as if he didn't quite belong. She knew that some of them were wondering why he hadn't tried to get out of such a supposedly dangerous mission. His father certainly had sufficient wealth and political power to have arranged it. Gradually, though, she saw that most of them were prepared to accept him as just another officer. In the meanwhile she began looking elsewhere for potential romantic possibilities.

Too bad Keane wasn't eligible. He was a big, rugged looking man. Sexy, she thought. Was he really ineligible? The Marine Expeditionary Unit wasn't really in the chain of command and they were even in separate services. Further, she had heard whispers of a girl friend who had decided the navy and romance didn't mix well. He was now unattached. He was certainly a good looking devil, with the tinge of gray at the temples setting off his strong face and big body, but probably he had taken himself out of the pool of eligible males simply because of his command position. Too bad.

Chapter Six: Clementine

Some people wonder all their lives if they've made a difference. The Marines don't have that problem.

-Ronald Reagan

Doug didn't know quite what to say to the woman. It certainly hadn't been his idea to be bred like some damned farm animal. He stood there just inside the curtained archway and began wondering how to talk the woman into it before both of them were punished. She spoke again before he came to a decision.

"Sorry," she said over her shoulder. "I know you were ordered to come here but that doesn't make it any easier."

Doug wondered if she had been ordered to strip before being put in this room or whether she had just been relaxing while having no duties to perform for her masters. In either case, he thought it might ease her mind if he offered her something to wear.

"Would you like my shirt? It's clean even if a bit worn."

"Yes, please."

He removed the fatigue shirt and draped it over her shoulders. She shrugged into it and turned to face him while still fumbling with the tab. Surprisingly, she smiled.

"How does it look?"

"It looks much better on you than me," he said, returning the smile. The shirt hung to just mid-thigh although it moved higher as she rolled each sleeve in turn up near her elbows. He could see touches of her fair skin showing where the touch tab had worn out in places. It was no longer effective for the first eight or ten inches at the top, hanging open and displaying quite a bit of cleavage from her large breasts. Her nipples were evident beneath the shirt, worn thin over the years. He did his best not to stare.

"Thank you, I guess. Damn. This is something I never expected."

"I didn't either." He shrugged. "I was just told to come here for a week of, quote, 'breeding', unquote with a favorable - Frang's words - ' female'. Do you suppose they're attempting to breed humans for certain characteristics now?"

She returned the shrug, doing interesting things to the loose shirt as her breasts swayed beneath the worn cloth. "More likely they just think I needed to try a new male since I hadn't produced any children so far, but that was by choice. Maybe I had a premonition but I brought along a couple of spare implants. The last one has probably run out by now, though, and I'm scared because it's a dangerous part of my cycle. Some people may think we'll be rescued one day but after all this time I've given up hope and I'll be damned if I'll raise my children to be slaves!" She practically spat the last word.

"May I sit down somewhere?" Doug asked.

"Oh. Sorry. Come on in. There's more room in back. Ordinarily I have another woman living with me but they took her away a couple of weeks ago and I haven't seen her since." She led the way past another full-length curtain into a small room with a long chair or short sofa, depending on how one looked at it. There was a table and closed cupboards. Beyond an unobstructed doorway he could see a low bed with typical Sinchik covers of rough cloth, somewhat like corduroy.

"Nice place. Better than what I have for sure. I'm Douglas Trevanne, by the way."

"Clementine Scarlett O'Hara, and if you laugh I'll hit you."

Doug didn't laugh but it took some effort to hold it back.

"Oh, go ahead if you have to. I'm used to it. Or at least I was used to it before making the mistake of signing on for that Wannstead survey. And to think I turned down a scholarship for this!"

He frowned. "I don't recall seeing you on the Jeane Baptiste. I was with the security and first contact section, and backup shuttle pilot." He laughed ironically. "Little good that training did me."

"That's why we never met. I usually stayed near the bow of the ship. I was an engineering technician, just turned twenty when we left Earth. Go ahead, you may as well sit down."

"Thanks." He took one end of the odd seat. It had bare wooden arm rests but the seat was padded. She took the other end and tucked one leg up under her.

"So what are we going to do?" She leaned forward and whispered, "They may be recording."

"I ...suppose we should obey orders if we can," he said while winking at her.

She relaxed but he didn't. Somehow they had to manage this in a way that removed the risk of pregnancy for her but also appeared as if they were doing as told.

"Yes, I suppose, as much as I don't want to." She returned the wink but didn't smile. He knew she was wondering how to fool the Sinchik, too. It didn't matter much what they said about their masters so long as it wasn't directly to one of them. It was only when they suspected English words were being used to demean them that punishment resulted. So far as he knew, none of them had ever bothered to learn spoken English. He thought a few had learned to read it clumsily in order to study the remains of the Wannstead ship but even there he wasn't certain. The robots inhabiting the city appeared more interested but they appeared at odd intervals, usually when the Sinchik were herding humans somewhere.

"What do you like to be called? Clementine or Scarlett?"

"Clemmie. I don't how I got through school without killing someone."

He didn't wonder about it. Whether she realized it or not, even after so many years of captivity she was still very attractive. Her long strawberry blond hair framed a face that even without makeup was very attractive, primarily because of her long lashed deep blue eyes and lips that appeared almost made for kissing. He felt a stirring and hurriedly turned his mind in another direction.

"What kind of work have they given you, Doug?" she asked.

"Hmm? Oh. I guess I'm lucky in a way. I'm a personal servant so I'm used for errands and light housecleaning, sometimes a bit of cooking, and the last couple of years I've had to supervise the croppers, the ones working in the fields." He nodded his head in the direction of the circular area in the center of the city. It was a full mile in diameter and was devoted to growing food. "I don't like it that much but it gives me a chance to get out and about fairly often. I don't know how much longer that will last, though. I think the Sinchik population has been dropping the last few years. How about you?"

"Nursery duty while mothers go out to work. Cleaning. The usual menial stuff." She shifted her position and moved closer to him.

Surprised, he raised his brows, wondering what she was up to. He didn't think she intended to change her mind, certainly on this short acquaintance.

"Come closer."

He complied until their heads were together. She put her lips close to his and whispered "There's still love in the world."

Astounded, he managed to return the code phrase in a barely audible voice. "Love means a lot to me."

She collapsed into his arms and began shaking. He held her close while she cried with relief. There were a few humans who were Quislings but no one knew who they were. Collaborating with the underground could mean certain death and many of the human slaves wanted no part of a resistance movement. Taking such an awful chance on such short acquaintance made him think she must be really desperate, quite understandable after so many years of slavery. He was both excited and worried. She was a member of the underground like him, but what a hell of a way in a hell of a situation to find it out! Now what?

***

"All of our people are aboard now, ma'am," First Sergeant Watkins said to the executive officer after reporting to her in her office, adjacent to that of the marine CO, Major Rambling.

"Thanks, Top," Captain Cantrell acknowledged. "Have you gotten that last load of ammo aboard, too? And the extra supplies?"

"Yes, ma'am but don't say that too loud. A lot of these last loads weren't exactly on the manifests. They were sort of, ...um, found laying around and some of the more, uh, enterprising marines didn't want to see them to go to waste."

Cindy smiled. She was always amazed at how the senior Sergeants in the corps were able to accomplish just about any task given them, regulation or not. In this case, Major Rambling had made his wishes known in a roundabout manner. She in turn had wished for the items in hearing of Sergeant Watkins and before long they magically appeared aboard the ship, stowed in unobtrusive nooks and crannies.

"Were there any repercussions from Captain Keane seeing those extra pallets of beer being loaded?"

"No ma'am. He passed right by, said 'Looks like a big load of soda pop there, Top' and went on about his business."

She laughed out loud. "I could get to like the man."

"Same here, XO. Any other last minute details that need taking care of?"

"Now that you mention it ...sit down for a minute, Top."

He sat, relaxed and waiting while she considered how to bring the subject up. It had just occurred to her the day before.

"Top, you know we're planning on being out a good long while, right?"

He nodded.

"And I suppose you've heard a bit of scuttlebutt about the mission?"

"Yes, ma'am. Hairy, so I hear."

She twisted her hands together, noticed what she was doing and unwound them. She saw that the first Sergeant was scrutinizing her rather more closely than usual. Nothing to do but blurt it out, she thought, and probably make a fool of myself.

"Okay, here's the skinny. Suppose we don't make it back. It's rare but ships do go missing. Also suppose the crew survives whatever happens. Do we have any provisions for colonizing?"

Watkins rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "I believe most interstellar space ships now include a basic allotment of farming implements and terrestrial seed stock as well as frozen embryos of some food animals and ...dogs, cats and a couple of other domestic companions, including the carpet cats from Wiggins World." He paused and wrinkles appeared across his forehead.

"So we're in good shape?" asked the XO.

More wrinkles appeared as Watkins thought seriously about the subject. "However, being Doc Travis is strictly designed as a war ship I wouldn't be surprised if that particular provision was overlooked. I'll take care of it."

Cindy nodded but there was more. "How about provisions for babies and children? Teaching materials, history books and so on? Whatever survey ships carry?"

"I'll take care of it, ma'am," he repeated. "Good thought. Damned good thought."

As he left she was glad it had occurred to her, too. Probably it wouldn't be necessary. More likely they would either come back or be killed but it was always best to consider all the possible contingencies. That was the essence of the military and one of the essentials that separated military thinking from civilian.

***

Brian was immediately put to work by Captain Keane. He spent all his days and many nights before launch checking the interfaces of the new weaponry with the original specifications for power outflow, gravitational settings and electronic synchronization associated with all three. He got practically no sleep, ate on the run and spent what seemed an inordinate amount of time on his hands and knees crawling around well-nigh inaccessible cubby holes where power cords seemed to grow and multiply in their dark abodes. At the present time he was sitting off by himself at a table in the officer's lounge trying to make sense of a particularly puzzling addition to one of the gravitic capacitor couplings.

He was amazed at the work and ingenuity that had gone into re-arming Doc Travis after the Navy had taken delivery. The pulse cannon and ECM systems were completely new to him, although he did have an extensive background on outfitting lasers to draw power from the excess flow of the quantum drive and its backup, but the new, much more powerful ones aboard Doc Travis staggered him . He had seen theoretical models of pulse cannons but thought them years away from application, which told him just how brilliant the men and women in DARPA were.

Even the meteor shield required hitting the operational manuals far into the night to see how it had been upgraded without reducing power drawn from thrust while underway. Only the rail guns were relatively simple but even those were much more powerful than what he'd seen anywhere else. All those systems drawing power from the quantum drive while still allowing it to push the ship twice as fast as the older models made him shake his weary head and wish he could have had more time to work with them before launch.

"You look weary, Brian," Fred Jergens commented as he sat down beside him the day before launch. "Anything I can help you with other than providing sustenance for that starved look you're carrying around?"

"Bless you, Fred," he said, picking up one of the chicken salad sandwiches Jergens brought. "You probably can help a bit later. Right now I'm just trying to absorb the basics of the new systems. You guys have done some magnificent upgrades on my ship." He noted that the electronics design engineer was sporting a much shorter haircut than the last time he'd seen him. "Hey, I see you got your ears lowered."

Jergens face colored slightly. "Captain Keane made a gentle suggestion."

Brian managed a laugh, tired as he was. "I suspect it wasn't all that gentle."

"Well ...let's just say I was told by Chief Mura I had an appointment with a barber at 0800 this morning and that the Captain was planning on having a trim done at the same time. I took the hint." He ran his hands through his shock of considerably shortened and thinned hair. "Have you met everyone now?"

"Most of the ones I'll be working with," Brian said. "Say, I talked to the crew of one of the assault shuttles. Now that's a real innovation. I guess you were the one responsible for squeezing the stealth and ECM into them, huh?"

"Yeah. That was my sneaky little hands, or brains rather. Of course, I did have to get my dainty little fingers dirty a few times, but it was worth it."

"I'll say. That Warrant Officer Hekstrom, Judy, I think her first name is, she's driving the one I looked at and she is one smart cookie. Even after the systems were installed and checked out she came up with a couple of new wrinkles. Now they can fire the wing guns at the same time as releasing their rockets. I wouldn't want to be one of their targets."

"They're Marines, and I heard they shipped some smart and crazy ones, if that's possible. Hell, even the captain's gone mad with weapons systems. I wouldn't want to be near anyone that pissed off Captain Keane while he's at the controls of Doc Travis." Jergens shivered theatrically.

"Let's hope the bad guys see it our way," Brian retorted. He finished the sandwich and his coffee then excused himself. "I've just got to grab a few hours sleep before launch. See you then, if I can finagle an excuse for not being at dinner with the Skipper."

***

Captain Trent Keane was almost trembling with pleasure and excitement as Doc Travis prepared for launch. He had not yet taken the captain's seat. He was too full of nervous expectancy at finally being ready to begin their mission. He had finished briefing his officers after the ship was sealed off from extraneous communication. In the interests of security, the only contact with ground control now was through the launch director, and then only if necessary.

"All control room sections report," he said. Too loud? No, just about right, because heads hadn't snapped around.

"Gravitics ready. Internal gravity on line, set for one G," Lieutenant Evonne White, the tall blond gravitics specialist and monitoring officer said. "Synchronized with external gravity, ready for launch."

"Internal environment optimum. No atmospheric leaks. Internal air at Earth normal. Hatches sealed," Lieutenant Commander Han Nguyen reported for his department.

"Weapons safed," Commander June Mundahan, the dark buxom weapons officer said from her alcove.

"Engineering ready. Quantum drive on line. Drive intersected with gravitic capacitor. All hatches show green for sealed," Lt. Commander William Levy announced.

"Astrogation parameters set and double checked by Chief Astrogator Mannheim. Helmsman ready," Lieutenant Anita Chavez, the assistant astrogator and helmsman said. The chief astrogator was monitoring from a secondary site in the ship.

"Weapons secure. Personnel secure and all accounted for. Environment secure. Engineering on line. All systems nominal. Ready for launch," Commander Dunaway completed the census as executive officer, his voice so calm that anyone listening from outside might have thought they were launching a rowboat instead of an interstellar starship. With Dunaway's deep blue eyes and grey-white eyebrows and hair, he easily looked the part of an extremely able XO.

Keane took a deep breath. "Astrogator, start the clock. Integrate with computer launch parameters."

Lieutenant Chavez toggled off the safety switch, flipped the lid hiding the controls out of the way and pressed the icon to begin the long voyage. "Launch programming initiated," she said. She had a pleasing Hispanic melody to her voice.

From one of the alcoves in back of the arc of control consoles, Chief Petty Officer Boris O'Neal glared at the Lieutenant. Captain Keane caught it and chuckled silently to himself. It was O'Neal's first interstellar slot. On wet navy boats the helmsman would have been an enlisted Chief Petty Officer. He could see how much O'Neal resented being relegated to the assistant's berth by the expression on his face.

The launch computer began counting down, giving everyone time to sit if they weren't already and to engage their safety harnesses.

It seemed hardly any time until Keane was hearing the last seconds being read off. " ...eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, launch."

Having been out before, Keane knew there would be very little sense of movement. It amused him to watch the reaction of the two neophytes. Whatever they were expecting, he saw surprise and puzzlement. He knew they were wondering if something had gone wrong and Doc Travis failed to launch.

"All launch parameters nominal," Chavez announced.

From his seat, Keane watched the view recorded by outside cameras. Earth rapidly became discernible as a globe by the curve of the horizon. The ship rose just fast enough not to heat up its hull, providing a spectacular scene for the crew. He knew that all hands not occupied with other duties tried to be in a position to see the Earth before its appearance grew too small to be significant. It would be their last sight of the home world for a long time, perhaps forever.

Chapter Seven: Bug Eyed Monsters

Dr. McCoy: "Please, Spock, do me a favor and don't say it's 'fascinating'."

Spock: "No, but it is... interesting."

"Attention on deck!" Sergeant Watkins said loudly, bringing all 613 marines to their feet, including the officers.

"At ease," Major Steel Rambling said as he entered, trailed closely by Captain Cindy Cantrell. The movie theatre, which also served as seating for observers of sports events, was the only place in the ship large enough to accommodate all the marines at once. Most of them were already seated or standing behind the last row of chairs. He could have given his talk through their personal comps. Most civilians carried their comps as a necklace or wristband but marines imbedded theirs into the tissue of their forearms, keeping it out of the way but ready during combat. Regardless of how he could have handled it, he wanted to see the whole rump battalion in person and let them get a reading of him while he did the same in reverse. The hurried advance of the launch had prevented him from gathering them dirtside because most of them had been extremely busy with combat loading and other last minute duties. He waited until all were seated and the scuffling and murmurs had died away.

"Good afternoon, Marines. Thank you for attending." He paused for the inevitable laugh. No marine would be stupid enough to refuse an order to be there from their commanding officer. The pause also was purposeful so they could get a good look at him. He was tall and muscular, with a face that wasn't handsome but which drew attention for its composed countenance and lack of smile lines. When he did occasionally let himself go, as now, it changed his appearance into that of a tall genial man, but one that still maintained a lethal command visage just below the surface. "Now that we're all here together and the ship is under way, I'm going to pass on a bit of intelligence to you. I know you've been waiting and wondering where we're going, haven't you?"

"Oorah!" they bellowed.

"Right. I have too, for that matter." That drew another laugh that he paused to let die before becoming serious. " Doc Travis is not only the finest ship in the United States Navy, it is by far the biggest and the best armed. Furthermore, it has the best crew ever assembled for an interstellar voyage. They are all volunteers, just like you. The only two persons in this ship who were ordered to go with it are Captain Keane and myself, but that's only because we got our orders before we had a chance to volunteer.

"All of you were told you would be going on a dangerous mission when you volunteered. Since I now know what it involves I'll let you in on it, too. We're headed to the Bolt Cluster, an area of close to a thousand stars relatively close together but rather farther from Earth than surveys have gotten yet. It is the cluster where four interstellar space ships have disappeared without a trace. It will be our job to find out why and take steps to prevent it from happening again.

"You have probably guessed that since there are far more marines on board than normally are sent with a star ship, you can anticipate ground action. It is possible that you may, but the fact is, we have no idea what has caused those ships to vanish. It might be the particular planet they landed on but it also could be a previously unknown astronomical phenomena operating close to the planet of our destination. It might be hostile BEMS. For the uninitiated, the acronym refers to Bug Eyed Monsters. Aliens, if you will. We simply don't know. All I can tell you is to keep your battle rattle in top condition and listen to your sergeants and officers because we shall be investigating an alien city on the planet near where the other ships vanished. Here is a recording of what little we know about it."

The lights dimmed and the marines were subjected to the same view Keane and his officers had already seen.

"Now you know about as much as anyone else aboard. The captain has told me that the voyage to the Bolt Cluster normally takes about six months, but I suspect the actual length will be determined by Captain Keane's observations as we close in on the cluster or arrive there and begin snooping around. Whatever Captain Keane decides to do or how he decides to approach the problem of a presumably dangerous alien city, I know I can count on you men and women for one simple reason: you are Marines, the finest fighting force in existence!"

"Oorah!" The massed chorus was almost loud enough to break ear drums.

"Right. Bullshit is for politicians and civilians. We take over after their bullshit has made us necessary to correct their errors. Attend me now. Whatever happens, we shall maintain discipline and conduct ourselves as a fighting force second to none. This is perhaps the most important mission since Wannstead Industries provided the ships to open up the galaxy for exploration. I expect you to conduct yourselves as Marines at all times, under the best and the worst of circumstances. Executive officer Cantrell and First Sergeant Watkins will now entertain questions and shall answer them to the best of their ability."

***

"How did your troops take the news, Steel?" Keane asked Major Rambling. They were having coffee in the Captain's Day Cabin and as he had been promised, there was plenty of room, much more than he had expected or thought he would ever be able to use effectively. When he was alone there it seemed even larger.

"They're marines, sir. They expect missions to be hairy-assed bitches. Whatever we run into, if it's a marine problem, they'll handle it if it's possible to do so. If not, they'll do it anyway or die trying."

Keane arched his eyebrows.

"Sir, that might sound like conceited arrogance, but it's not." He leaned forward in his chair. "Completing their mission is what I expect of them and that's what they expect of themselves. That attitude is even more imbued in this group because most of them have at least some combat time. The Commandant also purposely loaded us up with the best young officers and NCOs available who were in the system, or were scheduled to be before launch. When I say best, that includes not only the best warriors but the most intelligent ones and best educated ones we could find."

"I'm glad to hear the Marine Commandant took this mission as seriously as I and my superiors did, Steel. A successful outcome could, and probably will, effect a paradigm shift in our attitudes toward deep space, especially if we get our hands on some alien technology. Or aliens themselves. Damn it, that city appears to be just sitting there, surrounded by jungle and yet not invaded by it. Something or someone is keeping it clean and functional, or at least we hope it's still that way." Keane sipped at his coffee. It was his duty to infuse the crew, marines and navy both, with the importance of the mission. In the case of the marines he could see there wasn't much for him to do. The attitude was already inherent in the troops. However ...

"Since you seem to have the morale and attitude of your marines well in hand, I've got a bit of extra intelligence for you, Steel."

"What's that, sir?"

"Just before we left, the nature of our mission leaked. I don't know whether the leak will cause another nation, or possibly more than one, to try outmaneuvering us and attempting to solve the enigma first or not. Just in case, though, you should bear in mind the type of troop contingent the Chinese and Brazilian navies carry on their ships. You needn't worry about whether the Doc Travis can take care of itself. It can, I assure you. If it comes to combat on the ground though, you need to know what you'll be up against. I'm sure you're already aware of how each nation arms their infantry but you're welcome to access the navy's intelligence sources concerning their armed accessories. The better prepared we are, the less chance for Murphy to rear his ugly little fucking head."

Rambling chuckled. Keane noted how the disappearing vertical frown lines between his brows when he smiled momentarily changed his appearance.

"I can always do without Murphy. The miserable little bastard wouldn't stay on Earth, would he?"

"Afraid not. He's alive and well in space. That's really all I wanted to see you about. I've told Chief Mura to give you the codes when you want to avail yourself of what intelligence we have."

"Thank you, sir. I'll get started on that very soon."

Keane waved a hand negligently at the thanks. "There's one more thing. This is the first of our ships to carry shuttles specifically designed for marine assault teams or platoons. I'm sorry your men didn't get a chance to train with them but I've got a truly wizard electronics officer, Lt. Senior Grade Fred Jergens. One of the many duties I've assigned him is to work up some simulations for use of the shuttles. Think that might help?"

"Marines prefer hands on training but it certainly can't hurt, sir! Thank you again. Are they ready?"

"He hasn't said so, but he hasn't reported to me that they're finished so probably not. I feel like I'm remiss in not having put you two together before now, but as you know we've all been rushed. Why don't you look him up when you leave here and you two talk business?" He glanced up at the chronometer. "You can probably catch him in the process of getting ready for bed right about now."

"Murphy is indeed alive and well, Captain. I'll com him as soon as I leave here."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," Keane said, eyes twinkling. "Before you go, I should tell you there's a bit of debate on whether or not anyone else has worked up anything like our assault shuttles. If I were betting I'd say they have at least a couple of helicopters or maglev craft for each ship. Final analysis? Our troops are better armed and trained and we have the advantage with the assault shuttles, especially the way they can be stealthed. Those are dandy little vehicles." He laughed. "Did I say little? Those four could carry all of your battalion and basic combat load in a pinch. Normal load is seventy five to a hundred troops with weapons.

" Doc Travis can back you up with heavy lasers, plasma pulse cannon, and heavy rail guns. If worst comes to worst, we carry a variety of nukes but that's classified. No one but your XO is to know." Keane thought of pouring more coffee but he had other things to do and didn't want to refill his cup without offering the marine more. "I wish I could say we can handle anything we come up against but ...well, the last Wannstead ship had been upgraded, too. Not nearly to the extent of Doc Travis but much better than survey ships. It didn't come back, either."

Major Rambling gave a very tiny shrug. "I suppose we'll just have to be careful and play it by ear, sir."

"That's what I intend to do."

***

"Close to six months just to get there? Man, this is gonna be a long fucking trip, ain't it?" Dan Bullet said to Barbara Zembra.

She glanced at him as they threaded their way through the bodies of other marines, some going their way while others pushed against the tide in the other direction as the navy watch shifts changed. "Yeah, let's get out of this crowd so we can hear."

"Where to, Scooby doo?"

"Whose room's closest? I still haven't figured this ship out. Need a GPS."

"Your place, I think," Bullet said.

"Good, come on then, follow me."

A few minutes later they passed the last open hatch and into enlisted quarters. With such long tours aboard ship even the lowest ranking persons had what was called a 'stateroom', although in reality the ones furnished to lower grade enlisted personnel might have served better as broom closets. Barbara's room was even smaller than his. There was a bed latched up against one bulkhead, next to a tiny head, sink, commode and shower that were jammed into a space so small it made movement a matter of careful attention in order to prevent bumps and bruises. There was also a little work or entertainment alcove supplied with two chairs. One of them was latched out of the way. Barbara pulled it down.

"Have a seat, Bullet," she said. No one ever called him by his first name. "Welcome to my luxurious stateroom. Be careful not to get lost."

"Not much chance of that, even with your eyes closed." They had just come from a lecture given by Captain Keane on mission parameters, threat analysis and a potential time-table for the mission, among other subject matter. Like Rambling previously, he could have done it via com but he wanted every person in the ship to get a personal look at him a time or two. The lecture served as an excuse for them to do so although he had to schedule a series of them in order to get to everyone.

"Hey, what do you think of the old man?" Bullet asked.

She shrugged. "Seems to be pretty straight, but I didn't bring you here to talk about the CO." She eyed his compact body and youthful good looks. His black hair went well with his even-featured face. She gave a lop-sided grin at his look of surprise, although she thought he should have been expecting something like this by now.

"No? Then what did you bring me here for?"

Barbara smiled and pulled out a stick of lip-sweet from a pocket of her fatigue shirt and touched it lightly to her lips, giving them a pink tint. "I thought we might test the waters, so to speak, and see if we maybe want to hook up for the cruise?" She raised her brows.

"I've been wanting to ask you the same thing. Sometimes I'm a bit slow." He grinned wryly then took a step toward her. In the tiny stateroom it brought their bodies close enough to be touching. He leaned down and sampled the lip-sweet with her complete cooperation.

"Whew! I like you, too, Bullet. And I promise to be gentle." She said and began pulling off her fatigue blouse.

Other clothes fell between hungry kisses. By the time they were finished undressing he had forgotten all about her plain face. He didn't see her grin at his appreciation of her really fine-looking body. She had seen that reaction before. The rest of her more than made up for what she'd been shorted on in the looks department.

Chapter Eight: Steel

If the possibility exists of several things going wrong, the one that will go wrong is the one that will do the most damage. -Murphy's Law Number 2

"Too bad we couldn't have gotten some training runs in with these little beauties," Platoon Sergeant Jerry Matthews said as he took a seat near the bow of one of the assault shuttles. First Sergeant Watkins was taking the eight platoon sergeants and two from headquarters, plus the heavy weapons platoon, on a tour of the shuttles.

"Yeah," Marilyn Terrance agreed. "Look how the bays open. Two on each side. Quick egress."

"Lots of fire support, too," Julio Martinez noted. He had read the specs on the shuttles several times over and grew more appreciative each time.

"That's the idea, ladies and gents," Watkins said. "We don't know what we're getting into but these should help."

"Assuming the BEMS don't have something better," Jeeta Suharto said. She tucked an errant strand of coal black hair back behind her ear.

"I don't believe in bug eyed monsters," said Martinez. "I'm more worried about running into bad-ass aliens in numbers, with lots of weapons-that kind of shit keeps me up at night."

"It doesn't matter, troops. Marines make do. If we're outgunned, we just fight better and smarter. Personally, I think we ought to prepare for the Chinks rather than some hypothetical BEM."

"Me, too," Sun Lee said, ignoring the fact that he was as Chinese as the ones being referred to. "Fucking Chinks think they own the fucking world."

"Well, I'm here to tell you they don't, but I didn't bring you here to talk politics. I wanted all the Platoon Sergeants to get a good look at the layout here because we're going to start training on entrance and exit of these boats until you can do it in your sleep. There was a lot of skull sweat put into them. See there how they designed racks for our weapons by each seat? Easy to secure them, easy to get to before debarking."

"How 'bout simulators, Top? Are there any on board?" asked Martinez.

"Yes, and we're going to be practicing with those until your eyes are red, then we'll wake the troops at all hours and see how well the sims took. I want them to be able to come from sleep to sitting in their shuttles in three minutes flat, no more."

The platoon sergeants nodded, knowing First Sergeant Watkins never kidded around about training. Besides, it would keep the troops too busy to get bored even if the shuttles were never used.

***

"Sound general quarters," Keane ordered nonchalantly in the midst of the evening meal.

Chief of Boat Thomas Berry twitched his bushy brows and smiled evilly. The key officers and non commissioned officers were all alike in that they took their meals as they liked. Only at the formal dinner at the end of the "day" could they count on sitting down to a regular meal. This time the second tier crew was in the control room. Almost instantly the warbling sound of general quarters rang throughout Doc Travis. In the dining hall men and women pushed plates aside and ran for duty stations. Some crammed last bits of food into their mouths as they moved hurriedly through the ship. Others piled out of beds in their staterooms and into combat fatigues with a speed gained only from practice and more practice. The theatre emptied, the day rooms were suddenly bereft of idlers, fires were turned off under kettles of cooking food and everywhere in the vast ship, loose items were swiftly secured before the men and women rushed to duty stations.

In the control room Senior Master Chief Petty Officer Berry kept time. Officers skidded into sight and made for their duty stations, and if senior, pushed the other person aside and began running check lists on the status of those sections of the ship in their care.

"Weapons manned!" Commander June Mundahan said loudly, the first to report. She grinned proudly, brightening her beautiful face, although that wasn't usually the first part of her one noticed. Her body matched or even exceeded the beauty of her facial features.

"Gravitics normal, standing by for adjustment," Lieutenant White said. Next to Mundahan, the tall blond was one of the prettiest officers, not to mention one of the most competent.

"Astrogation manned, helm manned," Lieutenant Chavez said evenly.

"Engineering, all stations manned," Lieutenant Commander Levy said.

"Environmental, damage control, manned," Lieutenant Lan Nguyen chimed in his high voice.

"Damage control manned. Engineering manned." Chief Engineer William Levy announced.

"Marine contingent ready, assault shuttles manned and ready," Major Rambling's voice came over the com.

"All stations manned and ready, sir. Standing by," Commander Dunaway confirmed.

"Four minutes, seventeen seconds, sir," COB Berry intoned from his alcove at the opposite bulkhead from the control room workstations.

Keane nodded. "Good, but not quite up to standard yet. We're getting there, though. Thank you, gentlemen and ladies. Discontinue general quarters and let the crew get back to their meal. We'll have ours while we go over any discrepancies found during the drill." He strode out of the control room and back to his day cabin. Secretly, he was pleased with how well the crew was shaping up, especially the weapons section. He had ordered Commander Mundahan to drill all three subsections incessantly until they were well-nigh perfect. He had begun thinking that the ship's armament, shielding and EW capability would be critical in carrying out his mission, more so than having the extra marines aboard, although he had no idea why he felt that way. After years of service he had learned to pay attention to hunches, though. There was one other factor he chastised himself for not thinking about before but he intended to take care of it right now.

"Chief, find Lieutenant Wannstead and have him report to me in my cabin, please."

"Aye, aye, sir. I'll get him here."

***

"Sit down, Brian," Keane said after Wannstead reported to him in his day cabin. He was beginning to like doing business in its informal atmosphere. "I have some questions for you."

"Anything I can do to help, sir."

"Fine. I don't suppose you were old enough to know how those first two ships your father sent to the Bolt Cluster were equipped, but do you know anything about the last two?"

"In what way, sir?"

"Weapons. Special equipment or instruments. Anything not in the standard equipment specs when you deliver the ships to buyers."

"Oh. Let me think, sir." He rubbed his chin while his eyes studied the ceiling. "Sir, so far as I know all that was out of the ordinary was a series of telescopes somewhat similar to the ones on this ship, although not nearly as powerful. For weapons ...we ...um ..." He squirmed in his seat despite all he could do to sit still.

"Something very much under the table, I take it?"

"I guess it doesn't matter right now, sir, but if we return and it got out there would be some repercussions."

"Let's worry about them later. I need to know anything that might affect our mission."

"Yes, sir. Dad pulled a great many strings and did some very heavy pushing on certain people. What resulted is that he obtained a plasma bomb to send with the last ship."

"Hmm." Keane ran through his mind the people the elder Wannstead must have twisted the arms of to obtain that kind of weaponry, but decided it didn't matter now. The plasma bomb was very nearly as powerful as a city-destroying nuke and much, much cleaner. "Let's put it this way. What you just told me will stay between us unless the safety of my ship is compromised. How was the PB to be delivered if it was found desirable to do so?"

"They had something like our assault shuttles but smaller and built especially to deliver the bomb. It was unmanned and had a robotic pilot, of course."

"I see. Well, apparently it didn't help, did it?"

"Who can say, sir? We'll have to take a look at Xanadu to see if it was used."

"Yes, I suppose so. We'll be arriving at our rendezvous with the Santa Cruz in another ten days or so. After that ...well, we'll see. And by the way, this conversation didn't take place."

Upon reflection, and after Wannstead had left his cabin, he wondered why he put the conversation off limits. He was certainly going to have to let his officers know that the last missing ship was carrying a plasma bomb and that it apparently hadn't made much difference so far as enabling the ship to survive. The thought made him very glad that he had a backup. At least if the Doc Travis was lost, the Santa Cruz could carry word back on how it happened, unless the effects were capable of getting to interstellar ships from a very long distance indeed. In which case humanity might be in a great deal of trouble.

Keane sat alone for a good hour contemplating mankind's tenuous situation. How much trouble would this alien planet be? He thought back to the great Stephen Hawking who once said that the numbers alone make thinking about aliens perfectly rational, but that the real challenge is to work out what aliens might actually be like. Were they BEMS or friendly? Hawking believed that if aliens ever visited us, the outcome would be much like when Christopher Columbus first landed in America. Keane knew that didn't turn out very well for the Native Americans. So who would be visiting whom? Keane had a special directive from the President and Space Navy Security Council to use whatever means it took to protect Earth's location. That could mean blowing up the alien planet or even the Doc Travis if necessary.

Important decisions would need to be made soon. They were getting close to the rendezvous system at the edge of the Bolt Cluster where they were to meet Santa Cruz. After that he had to decide how to approach the final phase of the mission. He had already made up his mind that they were going to visit the same planets the lost Wannstead ships had. On the face of it, some might call it stupid, but he thought it might turn out that some of the Wannstead ships were lost before arriving at Xanadu. If so, he wanted to know about it. Besides, the whole cluster contained less than a thousand stars so options were fairly limited.

What made the cluster unique to this area of space was the number of presumably habitable planets for that number of star systems. And the unfinished alien city, of course. He wondered if it had been completed by now, was inhabited, or whether robotic caretakers were still on the job maintaining a long-deserted site. After a quiet time of consideration, he made up his mind on the approach, barring legitimate objections from one or more of his officers or a better idea from one of them. It would take longer than originally planned and might give competing expeditions a lead on them, if there were any, but at least his approach might let them learn more than going directly to Xanadu. And maybe give that fucking Murphy pause for thought. He chuckled to himself. More likely, Murphy would just come up with something even more ludicrous than what he had intended to pull in the first place.

***

"Incoming traffic, Captain," CPO O'Neal announced. He and two other PO Com Mates served in communications in lieu of Lt. Jr. Grade Martin Bogarty, the senior com officer, when he wasn't present.

Had to be the Santa Cruz checking in, Keane thought. He had taken Doc Travis by a slightly different route and done some star surveys for the Naval Observatory along the way, given that his ship was much faster than Santa Cruz. "I'll take it here, Chief." He tapped his console.

It was voice only. He muted it to where only he could hear in case of intelligence that didn't need to be made public. Rumors were all too easy to start and very hard to stop in the closed environment of a ship in interstellar space, without news feeds or personal mail to ameliorate them.

Captain James Whittaker, Santa Cruz for Keane, Doc Travis . Awaiting rendezvous at station 3006F as per orders. No anomalous events to date. Whittaker out.

It went on to repeat at intervals.

"Chief, send this back."

Keane, Doc Travis . Will arrive rendezvous within 24 hours. You may drop your satellite now and prepare to follow Doc Travis while maintaining distance of ten AU in each system explored. Further direction of travel from rendezvous will be given upon meeting. Repeating mission orders: Santa Cruz to observe and record only unless specifically ordered otherwise. Save further questions until rendezvous. Keane, Doc Travis , out."

"Got it clear on the voice-crypto sir. On the way," O'Neal said.

"Now comes the hard part," Keane muttered to himself.

***

During the interval before meeting the other ship, Keane called a meeting of his chief officers to explain his strategy. Once all the officers and selected non-commissioned officers were present, the stewards poured coffee, left several carafes on the conference room table, and departed.

Keane pulled up a galactoview he had already set to show the Bolt Cluster and little else. System 3006F was tagged and its numerical designation blinked slowly. The Xanadu system was centered almost exactly within the oval-shaped cluster, as if purposely put within a protecting phalanx of main spectrum stars, but his astronomer had assured him it was almost pure chance rather than a purposeful design. Besides, if an entity could move stellar objects around like pieces on a game board, they had little chance of competing anyway.

"Hold steady and focus in on the Xanadu system, then locate the planet please," Keane requested.

"Aye, aye, sir," Lieutenant Anita Chavez answered. She and a petty officer worked her scopes and the galactoview together. Her PO handled the big galactoview while she manipulated two screens depicting magnified views. Since the orbital characteristics had already been recorded from Wannstead's first interstellar voyage the planet's position wasn't hard to calculate.

"We have it sir," she announced.

"Fine. Now show the vectors the Wannstead starships are presumed to have taken."

Chavez played with her controls and four blue lines quickly appeared, zigzagging somewhat on its path from the edge of the cluster inward to Xanadu. The first two headed directly from the edge of the cluster to Xanadu. The other two depicted several stops on the way, indicating the cautious approach they'd intended to take after the first ships were lost.

"Good. Those vectors, ladies and gentlemen, depict the routes we shall not be taking, although we will be stopping at the designated systems the Wannstead ships intended to visit. In short, we'll be investigating the same planets but getting to them by a different route, just in case there is something between the stars that killed the Wannstead ships. Unless I hear a good argument to the contrary, that is the path I propose to use. Anita?"

A different colored line now appeared. The gathered officers and noncoms unconsciously leaned forward to look, as if that would help clarify the proposed route. It didn't, but they had no trouble following the vector. It departed from 3006F in a direction ninety degrees removed laterally from the other presumptive pathways and ninety degrees "up" from them, then eventually turned again toward the center of the cluster. The line stopped at a number of systems but always worked closer toward Xanadu.

"What I propose," Keane said, "is to stop at each system on the way in as the vectors indicate. Each of those systems contains at least one habitable planet, as best as the original survey was able to determine from orbit. Wannstead has told us the first ship wasn't designed to land, but after leaving the Xanadu system it did a good job of charting the cluster on the way home. We shall launch a satellite at each designated planet first and then begin searching for any signs of intelligent life or for any sign of the lost Wannstead ships. The last two did have well-nigh indestructible recorders with atomic powered batteries that will broadcast their positions for at least fifty years. They were also under orders to deploy satellites in any system they stopped at which had habitable planets. In case they deviated from their intended courses, we may get lucky and find one of those. In any case, we shall proceed very slowly and carefully with our surveys and searches, and at the same time remain alert to the possibility of other ships from Earth. If, or let's be optimistic and say when, we arrive at the Xanadu system, we will be even more cautious. At all times the Santa Cruz will be hanging well back and recording all that we do. Questions?"

"Yes, sir," Major Rambling said. "Do you anticipate landing on any of the planets in the systems leading up to Xanadu?" Rambling and his men were ready, and he wanted to keep them sharp.

"Major Rambling, I don't know about landing the Doc Travis, but it's safe to assume we'll at the very least send an assault shuttle down to run a more exhaustive and careful check on the environments. We may as well get that done while we're out here. At the same time we can claim those planets for the United States. I imagine our marines are itching for some action." He smiled at the assembled group, knowing that most of them wanted to set foot on new worlds whether it was part of the mission or not.

Rambling nodded, apparently satisfied, but resisted smiling. Keane knew his history. Although he did occasionally let loose with close friends, he'd seem too many of his men die over the years to let his guard down. He had told Keane that maybe after this mission he'd retire, take it easy, find a new girl, and maybe even smile more. But for now, he said, they were probably approaching a hornet's nest, giving him the same bad feeling he'd had years back when he was the sole survivor of a mission on Rex World, a planet coined so because of animals that the scientists hadn't taken seriously.

Things went well until Murphy showed his ugly head. The men accidentally stirred up a herd of nasty alien creatures-boney lion-like monsters the size of buffalo who decided that humans were walking meat sticks. To make things worse, a solar flare blew out their radios and they had to make a run for it. As the men tried to find safety in small caverns a carnivorous python-like snake picked the men off one by one. Rambling was the only one from a squad of eight to survive, and watching each of his comrades die by some strange animal burned a hole in his heart for years to come. That event never left his soul. He'd never let anything like that happen again. It was probably one of the reasons he was chosen for this job. Even though people thought Rambling was cold as ice they all knew he was experienced, smart and quick at making decisions. Keane thought the name Steel didn't exactly fit him, but it certainly came close.

Commander Jerome Manheimer, the chief astrogator, studied the galactoview and spoke up. "I note that the vectors you've projected will take us to five of the eleven habitable planets of the cluster before reaching Xanadu, sir. If this isn't set in stone, I see a way to include one more without adding significantly to the time spent."

"Put it up there and let's see," Keane ordered.

Once Manheimer had the new vectors plotted it was easy to see he knew what he was about.

Keane nodded. "Very good, Jer. That should show you all the difference between a professional and an amateur astrogator. We'll use it."

"Thank you, sir."

"How about rules of engagement, should that become an issue?" Dunaway asked in his soft voice.

"Good point and it's been covered with Major Rambling and his officers, but it can't hurt to reiterate. The safety of this ship is of paramount importance. Actions from anyone or anything that might compromise its integrity is to be met with force. I am leaving it to the judgment of the officers in charge of their departments to make the decisions should there be no time for consulting with me or the XO. Just use good sense and we'll back you up. Clear?"

"Clear, sir," came the murmured responses and affirmative nods.

"All right, one more point then we'll begin reviewing operational planning insofar as that is possible. Once we reach Xanadu the first-the very first thing we are to look for is whether or not that unfinished part of the city has been completed. If it has we can assume the aliens intend to use it in some fashion. If it's not complete that will be a strong indication that it's being tended by robot caretakers. It will also be an indication that possibly it was robots that have been interfering with the ships that didn't return. Only an indication, though. We have no idea if there are even robots there, much less aliens. In either case we have contingency plans, and that's what I'd like us to review now."

This might be boring, Keane thought, but necessary. He didn't intend to lose his ship for lack of planning. The reviews continued until shortly before the evening meal. He dismissed everyone then and began his preparations for dinner in a well-satisfied frame of mind. He had done all he could think of now. Every action in the future would be in the realm of the unknown and he had his ship as ready as possible to meet it. That was all anyone could do.

Chapter Nine: Bolt Cluster Planets

If man makes himself a worm he must not complain when he is trodden on.

- Immanuel Kant

The boy in the shorts he had seen before poked his head between the parted curtains. "Bonge!" he said and quickly retreated.

"Oh, shit!" Clemmie exclaimed. "That bastard is coming here! Quick, get out of your clothes and under the covers in there! Hurry!" She pointed to the bed in the next room with one hand while ripping the tabs of the shirt he had given her loose. She shrugged it off her shoulders and tossed it away.

All Doug had on was his trousers and underwear. He stripped quickly and hurried to the bed, not worrying about his nakedness but hesitant about offending her.

"Hurry! Under the covers."

He lifted the rough covering and slid under it. Their bare bodies touched.

"Get on top of me! Act like we're fucking," she said, her voice urgent.

As he moved to cover her body with his he found she was trembling. He was certain it wasn't from desire. He had no intention to try taking advantage of the situation but he couldn't help responding. It had been a long time since he'd had sex. She was just short of beautiful and the moment he was in position she quickly wrapped her arms and legs around him.

"Move," she ordered, "but don't you dare do anything!"

"I won't," he said, but now his own body was trembling. It was the strangest situation he had ever found himself in. An erection he didn't want but couldn't help forming made it even worse. He began moving his buttocks but was careful to avoid penetrating. "Sorry," he muttered. "I can't help it but ..."

"Do you think I don't know that? Hush and keep moving." She shifted slightly to keep the unwanted from happening. He helped by moving upward so that his erect organ was flattened between their bodies.

Her body shook again. At first he thought it was from fear or even disgust but then he realized she was doing her best to keep from laughing. That set him off, tickling him even while his traitor body refused to obey his orders to stop his arousal. He had to shout something unintelligible to cover the laughter that threatened to erupt.

"Breeding. Good!" A Sinchik voice grated in the room. He hadn't heard the approaching many-treaded footsteps while in the throes of acting, or trying not to act, or whatever the hell term one used to describe the situation, if there was such a term.

Clemmie half-screamed, half-laughed and gasped for breath. During the momentary silence he heard the steps of the Sinchik retreating. He was sure it never occurred to the being that sex should be private but at the moment it certainly didn't matter. He listened until there was no noise at all.

"I think he's gone," she said. "But hold still for a few minutes. Act like we're finished and just coming down."

"I'm sure as hell not coming down, not in this position," Doug said. "It's impossible but ...oh, hell. He must be gone by now. Can I get off?"

Instead she held him tighter.

"What ...?"

Her arms moved over his back and her hips shifted. She inserted her hand between their juxtaposed bodies. Her fingers wrapped around his erection and guided him into the proper position, then pulled him closer. Helpless to resist, he slid inside her.

"What ...I thought ..."

"Hush. My last implant might still be good and it's been too goddamn long for me, too. And you were a gentleman."

He didn't try to stop, not any more. If the Sinchik came back during the next couple of hours neither of them heard it.

***

"It won't be too much longer now," Bullet said. He stroked Barbara Zembra's cheek where she was stretched out with her head in his lap. It was surprising to him how he had ever thought she was unattractive. The longer they were together the more he thought she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever been with.

"Are you scared, Bullet?" She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"It's more like being pissed because we don't know what shit we might get into, but yeah, I'm a little scared. Probably a good thing too."

"Me, too. I keep dreaming of aliens with big tentacles wrapping me up."

"That's just me holding you while you're sleeping."

She reached up and slapped his face, but gently. "That's why it's so nice when I wake up." She giggled.

"All right for you. Next time you have a bad dream I won't touch you."

"I was kidding."

"I know it, Sweetie."

"Hey, Bullet?"

"Uh huh?"

"Where'd that name Bullet come from?"

"I dunno. I was an orphan. The lady that left me said that was my name. Dan Bullet."

"Really? An orphan?"

"Yup. It don't bother me, though. Besides, I like the marines. I'm going to re-up. How about you?"

She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. Did she want to stay in or not? "It's not a bad life, over all. Travel, chance to get an education, free healthcare and another two years of guaranteed gas rations. Pay's not bad once you make sergeant. A girl could do worse."

"A girl could get killed, too. That's the downside. You think about that?"

"I'm not worried. I'm a sniper first and if anything gets close, I'm on the big MG. That thing'd take down a dinosaur."

"Yeah, but suppose somebody's shooting at the fucking ship, not us personally. Not much to do about that shit."

"You worry too much."

"I worry about you." He moved his hand down to her breast. "Do we have time?"

"If we hurried but I don't like to hurry. Let's wait."

"A double to make up for it works for me."

Barbara smiled, glad that the two hit it off. But she did worry about the mission, a troubling sense that something really bad was coming, like she saw in her dreams. She wanted to brush it off. It was only a dream after all.

***

"Deal the cards," Julio Martinez said.

"You gotta put up some chips, you're the small blind," Platoon Sergeant Marilyn Terrance said to her counterpart from A Company.

"I am?"

"Yes. That's how we play Texas Hold 'em. Dealer, small blind, big blind," Marilyn said, pointing to players.

"Sorry. This waiting always makes me nervous." He put his chips in front of him while waiting for the people to start betting.

"Yeah, know how it goes." She began sliding cards across the table to the other three platoon sergeants. "The troops're getting antsy, too."

"It's the not knowing," Sun Lee offered. "Are we gonna fight or not? Or just get blown to hell with the ship?"

"Don't talk that way. Cap'n Keane won't let anything happen to his ship."

"He's not immortal," Martinez said. He looked at his cards and opened.

"He's good, though. And I heard he's lucky, too," Jeeta Suharto said. "You going to call?"

"I'll take luck any day."

"Nah, good is better. Call."

"Pass."

"I call and raise a ..."

The general quarters alarm disposed of whatever Terrance intended to raise. The sergeants tossed in their cards, grabbed back their antes and rushed from their day room, never knowing if this was going to be the real one or not.

***

"Astrogator, Helm, set approach vectors on bearing requiring twelve hours to reach orbit," Keane ordered once his orders had been relayed to the other ship. "Maintain continuous all systems search for sentient life."

"Twelve hours, aye, sir," Chavez acknowledged. She locked gazes with the Helmsman. He nodded, indicating he had it.

"XO, battle stations, Condition Yellow, half on, half off."

"Battle stations, Condition Yellow, aye, aye, sir. Notifications going out." Condition Yellow did not require the strident immediacy of the Condition Red alarm.

"Com, record the following for a drone to be dropped immediately. Have it repeat in a closed loop. Message: To Santa Cruz: Am approaching earth-like planet on twelve hour path from arrival, mark 0724 hours, Twelve September at forty AU from its orbit. Hold Santa Cruz at ten AU from orbit and observe. Repeat, observe only. Do not interfere regardless of circumstances. Maintain an open circuit to Doc Travis and record all action. Keane, Doc Travis . Out. Add all the necessary parameters, inclinations from ecliptic, other planets sighted and all other standard astronomical data. Drop the drone then prepare our own satellite to be launched immediately and set the thrust to put it into orbit while we're still four or five AU out."

"Got it all, sir," Lieutenant Bogarty said. "It'll on the way soon as we copy the recording to the drone."

"XO, I want to go to battle stations when we reach three AU from orbit of ...was this planet named during that Wannstead survey? Brian?"

"He's off duty this shift, sir," Dunaway said.

"Get him up. From now on, I want him on duty with me. Find out the name, if any. If it hasn't been tagged, let the crew submit suggestions. We'll let the astro crew pick the one they like this time, then rotate among the other stations as we go."

Keane noticed the odd looks he was getting from the officers in the control room. He knew they must be wondering why he hadn't waited until Santa Cruz arrived to begin his approach farther into this first system of the Bolt Cluster they were exploring. He looked around and smiled mirthlessly.

"I can't see any advantages to waiting and letting our nerves get all jangled. Santa Cruz will be on their assigned station within an hour or two and I don't expect much to happen before then. Relax as much as you can and let's get this done. Com, are you getting anything at all?"

"No, sir. Nothing at all resembling regular communications or power emissions, human or otherwise," PO Chen Zhou said. He was handling commo at the moment, but as they got closer in, Bogarty would take over.

"Good. I'm not expecting trouble this far out so I'm going to my cabin and get a little rest. If I'm not back in three hours, send for me and put CPO Mura in the brig because she'll have fallen down on her job."

Good natured chuckles told him his attempt at humor hit the right note and the control room crew was as relaxed as possible under the circumstances. He departed the control room with that in his mind and hoped it would stay that way.

***

After two days in a ball of twine orbit around Wolf Pack, the name given the world by the astronomy/astrogation crew, Keane was almost wishing for action. The planet had been officially designated Wolf Pack after the sighting of numerous packs of large, wolf-like creatures on the scrub-covered plains of the main continent. No signs of habitation had been found nor any sign of the missing Wannstead ships.

"Shall we let the crew touch dirt here, sir?" Dunaway asked in a private conference.

"I have no objections so long as a marine security crew stays on alert while anyone is down. I think we need to limit the distance they can travel as well."

"How long can we stay?"

"John, I really hate to limit the time but liberty for the crew is not our mission. We'll give them just enough to keep their morale up, then move on to our next stop."

"Aye, aye, sir. Two days?"

"Sounds fine. Six hour shifts. Let's get started so we can be on our way."

***

"Almost anticlimactic, huh?" Barbara said. She and Bullet were in the last of the marine contingents given a few free hours to let their feet feel dirt rather than steel beneath them for a change. As soon as they returned to the ship, Doc Travis would be on its way. They stood together gazing around at the first alien world upon which they had ever stood.

"Yeah. What the hell, beats fighting BEMS, though," Bullet responded.

"I wouldn't mind a BEM so long as it couldn't shoot straight."

"BEMS don't necessarily have to be unfriendly, Barb. And just think, only one of the good worlds in the cluster showed signs of aliens during that initial survey. They could easily have missed a sub-tech species."

"I guess we'll find out if we explore them all, won't we? Hey, have you definitely decided to re-up?" She eyed him anxiously.

"Yup. How 'bout you?"

"Same here. I told Top to put the papers in yesterday."

"Hey, Sweetie, you know the marines try their best to keep married couples together don't you?"

Barbara's plain face brightened with a smile that made her features a beacon of beauty. "Bullet, buddy, is that a proposal?"

"Well ...yeah, I guess so. I'm sure not looking anywhere else with you around."

Barbara Zembra took a quick sweep of the landscape and the scattered troops enjoying the sunshine and breezy fresh air then put her arms around his neck and kissed him with a thoroughness that should have taken place privately. Not a very romantic proposal, she thought, but that's just the way he is. And I like him like this. He's so bumbling sincere.

The next day they took the oath together, changing their status from a reserve five year commitment to regular marine service, meaning they intended to stay in until retirement. From that point on, more opportunities and faster promotion would come their way, but with them would also come much greater responsibilities. Neither of them minded, certainly not at this point in their young lives. After the oath they decided to wait until Captain Keane wasn't quite so concerned with other matters to ask him to marry them.

***

"Nothing, here so far, sir. Just like the last one."

Keane nodded to the com tech. This was the third earth-like planet in the itinerary that had been mapped out, and a bit deeper into the Bolt Cluster. The last one, named Saudi-6, had been suitable for colonization though it had been somewhat dry, with extensive desert areas. It did have six moons, which made for a breathtaking night sky. This new planet, now known as Kim's World after one of the very bright and extremely well liked astronomy techs who had spotted it, was much better. Perhaps the initial colonization would be hard, chiefly because of the extensive jungle, but the atmosphere was a close approximation to that of Earth and the flora and fauna were compatible.

Not a bad world at all, Keane thought, but they were searching for what caused ships to go missing, not planets to colonize. It was beginning to look as if Xanadu was where the mystery lay rather than one of the other systems on the itinerary. He could quickly skip the plan and shoot directly for Xanadu, but something inside told him that was a very bad idea. He still intended to stick to the plan he and his officers had agreed on. Go slowly, look over each star system, and gradually work their way toward Xanadu.

"John, how about we let Santa Cruz have the liberty this time and we'll stay in orbit and watch for boogers while they enjoy themselves. Does that suit you?" Keane asked a day later while they were still examining the planet but finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"Sounds fine to me, Captain. I'm sure they're ready."

"Let's get on it, then. I'm getting anxious to move in deeper. I'd like to go directly on to Xanadu but I'm scared we'd miss something important if we do."

"I agree, sir. Let's stick to the plan even if it does get to be a bit boring."

***

Major Rambling had one big complaint about the accommodation for his marines. Individual staterooms were great according to the troops' opinions but there was a downside, he thought. Sleeping in their staterooms, they were deprived of the bull sessions that ordinarily took place among and between them. Sometimes great strategy and good ideas came from such gabfests. Here, with individuals isolated, they didn't grow into teams as close as they would have if bedded down in open bays, nor exchange views quite so frequently or openly. On the other hand, he had to admit that privacy had its merits, too. To prove it, he smoothed his hand over the curve of Commander June Mundahan's hip and down along the perfect length of her thigh to the bend of her knee.

"Mmm. That feels good, but should we be thinking of that at a time like this?"

"The Captain did say his off shift was to relax. The XO specifically advised us marines do the same thing. Who am I to dispute orders from two such august presences?" They were just beginning the first day of moving inward toward the life-zone planet in the fourth system of the cluster. It hadn't been given a name yet and was designated E67, but Rambling would be willing to bet it would wind up being called Sleepy from the way the one major continent formed an almost perfect Z as it meandered over a full hemisphere. The other side of the planet was dotted with many huge islands but no continents.

"You do have a point, Steel. Very definitely a point." She looked at his erection, smiled, shifted position onto her back and captured his hand in hers. She brought it up to her breast, a pointed hint not to waste precious time. And just in case that wasn't explicit enough, once his hand was in the position she wanted, she slid her own downward, obviously intending to emphasize her desire.

Rambling liked what she was doing. In fact, he liked her very much, even though her extreme beauty and voluptuous body had very nearly scared him away from even approaching her. At that, she'd had to practically trip him in order to get him into her bed. He still didn't know exactly what she saw in him. It certainly couldn't be his looks because no one had ever called him handsome or anything even close to it. He did have a good strong body that he kept in shape and a mind such that no one ever called him a dumb marine, so perhaps the combination compensated for his overlarge nose and jug ears. Whatever, he wasn't about to question her taste, especially not now. They were still learning about each other and enjoying the process.

They had just begun and were in the throes of gentle touching and kissing when Mundahan's com tinkled.

"Damn," she muttered and tapped her wrist after getting it loose. "Mundahan."

"Report to the Control Room, immediately."

"Wonder what that is?" Rambling asked. He sat up.

"Don't know but I gotta git. When the Captain says immediately, that's what he means."

Two minutes later she was gone, leaving him to wonder why she had been alerted and he hadn't. He didn't have to wonder long. His call came a moment later, but he was already dressed by then. He scurried though the passageway his stateroom was located on, up a ladder, and hurried toward the bay where the marines gathered when alerted. It was also the hanger bay where the assault shuttles lived. However, he no sooner arrived there than he was re-directed to the control room to meet with the captain and his officers.

Chapter Ten: Return fire!

Altaira Morbius: Where have you been? I've beamed and beamed.

Robby Robot: Sorry, miss. I was giving myself an oil-job.

Altaira Morbius: Robby, I must have a new dress, right away.

Robby Robot: Again?

Altaira Morbius: Oh, but this one must be different! Absolutely nothing must show - below, above or through.

Robby Robot: Radiation-proof?

Altaira Morbius: No, just eye-proof will do.

Robby Robot: Thick and heavy?

Altaira Morbius: Oh, no, Robby. It must be the loveliest, softest thing you've ever made for me, and fit in all the right places, with lots and lots of star sapphires.

Robby Robot: Star sapphires take a week to crystallize properly. Would diamonds or emeralds do?

Altaira Morbius: Well, if they're large enough.

Robby Robot: Five, ten, and fifteen carats, and on hand. I will run the dress up for you in time for breakfast. Sleep well, miss.

Altaira Morbius: Thank you, Robby. I don't care now whether I do or not!

-Forbidden Planet, 1956

Keane looked around to make sure that all the first shift and department heads had reported to the control room before saying anything. "Folks, we're picking up non-directional broadcasts from this world even while we're still quite a ways out. I'm not sure what to make of them yet. Apparently there's some fighting going on. We caught just the tail end of it before the rotation of the planet cut us off. It's not English we're hearing. We only got bits and pieces but it does sound like human voices, and our computer comparison says it is Chinese.

"There's also some other broadcasts that according to our computer are not, repeat not, human. What we got from both sources sounded like leakage from directional signals. I have a Chinese-speaking specialist who'll be here shortly to help interpret as the planet rotates and we come into range again. We'll see what he makes of the recording."

As if on cue, Petty officer Chen Zhou arrived. "Chen Zhou, reporting for duty sir."

"PO Zhou, come over here, please," Lieutenant Bogarty called to him. "I need you to listen to something."

"Ay, aye, sir."

The petty officer tucked an ear bug into his right ear and listened, an intent expression on his oriental face.

"Play it again, sir, please. The accent is a bit unfamiliar to me. It's Mandarin but sounds as if it's a second language for the one doing most of the talking. Shouting, I should say. He was excited and screaming orders."

He listened again then removed the bug.

"What do you make of it, son?" Keane asked.

"Uh, it's hard to say for sure, sir. I could hear gunshots and cursing. The gist of it is that whoever is commanding is very unhappy with what's going on. He's complaining of casualties and demanding that a platoon advance and capture a position referred to by a grid coordinate. That's useless to us for now. You must have heard the other part, where it sounds almost like cats and dogs going at it."

"Yes, we did," Keane said with a chuckle. "Take a seat and get some coffee if you like, Zhou. I want you to stick around. Bog, fix up a feed to him so he can listen and make notes for us."

Bogarty placed the Chinese petty officer in an empty alcove, furnished him with coffee and a keyboard tablet, then left him and returned to his station.

"Turn the volume up loud enough for all of us to hear when the rotation puts us in range again, Bog," Keane ordered. It would save time later, he thought.

"It's almost time now, sir."

Over the next several hours, when the ship was closer to the planet and after its rotation brought the broadcasts back into line, the situation became somewhat clearer. A Chinese ship had either landed or been shot down, and troops from it were attempting to repulse alien attackers. It didn't sound as if they were having much success.

"Sir, I've spotted their ship," Lt. Chavez said. She was operating the light telescope since she was better at it than Commander Manheimer, who was more of an astrogator than astronomer. "It's hard to tell much from this distance but it looks as if it's been heavily damaged. Funny, the directional indicators aren't lining up with it, though. I guess they must have left it when it was grounded."

"Anything else?"

" Eve is pulling together an enhanced picture of the areas, sir. It's coming clear now. Looks sort of like that Xanadu place but not much of it actually built yet. It has the same circular layout of about the same size but there's only one central spire. It's like ...like maybe a colony of Xanadu?"

"Most analysts think Xanadu is a colony," Dunaway said.

"We're coming in pretty close sir," Manheimer noted. "Do you want to go into orbit or stay clear?"

"Stay clear until we sort this out," Keane ordered emphatically. "Put us in a geosynchronous orbit over the alien settlement while we analyze the situation." He didn't intend to have his ship shot down and wasn't so anxious to help the Chinese that he was willing to risk it, not until he knew more. "And have Eve do a comparison match of this settlement to the Xanadu records." Eve was the name given to the ship's central computer. When it responded verbally it did so with a low, sultry, feminine tone.

Over the next several hours, the Chinese broadcasts became fewer and more frantic and finally ceased altogether. From their orbit it was possible to see heated explosions occurring at intervals through the powerful telescope. Some were determined to be chemical eruptions of known constituents but others were more akin to their own plasma pulser.

"Sir, I've spotted a second ship!" Chavez called out excitedly.

"What?!" Keane asked.

"A second ship, sir. It looks as if there may have been an attempt at camouflage, or perhaps it's simply been overgrown with vegetation, but it's definitely one of ours. A Wannstead type, I should say."

"That doesn't sound as if they came in together, does it?" Dunaway said. He was seated to the right of Keane. Both were looking at the big overhead 3D screen where the telescopic sightings were being projected. As he spoke, Chavez dropped an icon over the indifferently covered ship. It looked as if it had been damaged as well.

"What's that thin line going from the ship toward the settlement? Is it a road?"

"Looks like it," Chavez replied.

"As if a lot of traffic has been going back and forth from it," Keane said. He rubbed his chin while examining it and the other scenes. He knew he was going to have to make a decision soon on whether to go into a closer orbit around the planet or leave and go on toward Xanadu, the apparent main source of the alien presence in the Bolt Cluster. Xanadu had the advantage of being what they were really after but surely they could examine the aliens and their works on this planet just as well, assuming the Doc Travis could defend itself better than the other two ships had. That there might not be as powerful defenses here as was likely for the huge alien city of Xanadu was another point in favor of landing here. If they could.

"Anita, take us into close orbit, two hundred fifty kilometers," he said, making up his mind. "XO, sound general quarters in a moment. Major Rambling, get back to your marines and have two of your assault shuttles manned and ready. We may need them soon. June, run a weapons check and make sure all your stations are manned and ready. Fred, put us into stealth mode before we begin moving. Questions?"

There were none. The battle stations alarm sounded.

As Doc Travis moved cautiously closer to the planet, Commander Dunaway commented idly, "If nothing else, I think we've just proved there's a Chinese spy pretty high up in our government."

Keane was first startled and then chagrined at his statement. He'd thought of ships from other nations possibly beating them to Xanadu ever since Admiral Mullins had mentioned the possibility of their being responsible for Wannstead's lost ships. But this was far too coincidental. Besides, the Chinese ship had obviously been defeated by a colony that looked to be barely begun. An enemy agent seemed an obvious answer to the Chinese presence here but if so, they had outsmarted themselves. Their ship was destroyed, so he would give no further thought to it. Let the State Department and Homeland Security take up the matter when they returned.

***

"Coming into range for orbital insert, sir," Anita Chavez announced.

"Fred, how's it looking? Are you picking up any search emissions?"

"No, sir. I believe the aliens had been watching us when we were in geo orbit but our EW is pretty good. I think they've lost us now. Don't see any neutrino or wide-band scans coming our way, just a sweep but no lock. There is something else, though. We've detected two areas resembling mining operations and what seems like large transport ships. However, none of them are airborne at the moment. In fact, no mining operations are apparent. It's as if they were shut down the instant we were detected."

"Fine. Helm, go into orbital insert now. Maintain battle stations."

Nothing untoward happened the first time they passed over the alien settlement where the wounded Wannstead ship lay but as they approached on the second orbit, Jergens spoke up.

"Captain, we're being pinged in three different wave lengths. And I think they're locking in on one of them."

"Keep our shields up full. Can our EW phase it out?"

"No, sir. It's like they're trying to sight in on us and ...they're firing!"

Every screen in the control room brightened for a second then turned black for a moment as they dampened to avoid excess radiation.

"Return fire. Pulser and rail gun," Keane said immediately.

Jergens' computer wizardry had automatically tracked the source of the powerful energy beam as the magnetic shield of Doc Travis repulsed it. He doubted if it would have been quite as effective had an alien ship been armed with that type weapon and used it in space without an intervening atmosphere.

Commander Mundahan fired the pumped-up laser cannon, blasting a temporary hole in the planet's atmosphere before pulses of sun-hot plasma automatically ejected from the Doc Travis plasma coil followed lance of energy to the surface. A boiling eruption of orange-white fire blasted debris away from the target area. Simultaneously, a shudder rippled through the ship causing a brief moment of apprehension until those who had forgotten realized it was Doc Travis' rail gun causing the tremor. Even if it the view screen didn't indicate a field to scatter the plasma, hardly anything could stop the simple but deadly rail gun slugs. The source that had fired on the ship was being decimated.

Keane ignored the rumbling rail guns firing in sequence and watched his screen, where the telescopic images were faithfully relaying information. Explosions visible to the naked eye, had anyone been outside the ship to see, blasted the offending site as rail gun slugs exploded on impact, carving a path of destruction through the alien settlement. The atmosphere above it filled with grey dust and burning ashes.

"Cease fire! Fred, are they still pinging?"

"No, sir. I'm getting nothing now."

"Good. We'll be out of range in a couple of minutes."

After two more orbits Keane decided to land but he put the ship down fifty kilometers away from the settlement and sent a single assault shuttle with a full load of marines to investigate. A second shuttle stood by to assist if needed. They had met their first aliens and survived, a much better result than their Chinese counterparts. However, the action had given them a glimpse of what must have happened to the other Wannstead ships. It left a big worry in his mind, though. It was evident that the city below, while not even half finished, still had formidable defenses. How would Doc Travis fare against a fully functional colony? Keane pondered that and knew things would only get tougher on Xanadu. He decided the best course of action would be to get word out to the Santa Cruz and then try obtaining more data from the planet before moving on. Keane hoped they hadn't destroyed too much- he needed more intelligence, or better yet, an alien to interrogate. Which meant it was time for the U.S. Marines.

***

Barbara Zembra snapped the safety harness into place on her shuttle seat while thinking that she finally fully understood the reasons for the prohibition of personal relationships with another in the chain of command. Had either she or Bullet been in that position she knew she would have worried herself sick over him and vice versa. As it was, they each had their own jobs in their own squads and probably wouldn't even notice each other if the assault shuttle ran into a combat situation. They would be too busy for worry. She was already tense as the craft rolled down the ramp from the hanger and into position where its thrusters were pointed away from the mother ship.

She felt her body being shoved back into the seat as the shuttle ignited its main thrusters in a blast of sound and fury as it reached for altitude. It was hardly in the air before it leveled off and picked up speed, staying not many meters above the canopy of the tall thin shafts of green and brown growth. It seemed as if they had hardly gotten started when she was flung against the straps holding her when the shuttle decelerated violently. It thumped to a stop at a slight tilt. She thumbed the harness loose while the shuttle combat covers, two on each side, snapped open and locked into place. Bright sunlight caused her eyes to squint until her combat helmet polarized into acceptable transparency.

"First squad, second squad, up and at 'em," Platoon Sergeant Julio Martinez shouted over the same cry of Jeeta Suharto, his counterpoint in the other platoon. "Third Squad, out and cover."

Like well-oiled machinery, the marines bolted from the shuttle and ranged out toward their objective, the central spire of the alien settlement. Two squads advanced, the third covered the spire, and a heavy weapons squad brought up the rear, ready for instant set-up when and if needed. In the front and top of the shuttle, the heavy weapons were also manned. The pilot and co-pilot stayed in place, ready to move in support if necessary.

Barbara ran through the heavy, knee-high growth that clung to her boots almost like glue as she slogged through them. The moment she heard and saw opposing fire she stopped and searched for targets. Her job at the moment wasn't quite as dangerous as most. She was a sniper. Her heavy caliber rifle would punch holes through a half inch of steel from a mile away. She saw an alien as it rose above a covering bundle of construction material and quickly sighted in. The recoil thumped against her shoulder, surprising her as it always did. The alien, a being shaped like a short fat brown caterpillar, flew backward with a hole the size of a saucer near its top end. Green blood, she thought abstractly.

Another Worm came into her sights and fell as quickly as the first but with far more gore. Must've hit something slushy, she told herself aloud. This was her first combat of any kind. She was amazed at how calm she felt. It was almost like training except the opponents had never been big brown caterpillars. Dangerous ones, too, she saw as a fiery streak of ionized air hit near a duo of marines who were running toward new positions. One fell screaming from the impact of a tiny ball of plasma. The other went on and dropped to earth behind a half finished wall.

The marines advanced as slowly or as fast as circumstances dictated, led by their sergeants and directed by the two platoon officers. After the first few clashes with the aliens it became obvious that the marines were vastly superior when it came to ground combat. The "Worms", as they almost automatically began calling them, seemed not to have an idea of how to fight in close quarters. Once their plasma cannons from the central city were taken out, the battle was for all practical purposes over. Which didn't mean there weren't more marines who fell. The Worms were armed with personal weapons which fired small bits of plasma. A hit on the torso of a marine usually meant instant death even through their armor. But if the Worms didn't know how to fight, they also had little notion of how to surrender, either. They had to be dug out of half-finished underground quarters, routed from positions where they had cover, and shot even after they were wounded because likely as not they would fight on until dead.

It was grueling urban combat, the worst kind for infantry but it could have been much worse had the Worms any real notion of what they were facing. Marines were trained for that type of fighting-the Worms were not. The result was never in doubt. It would have been even easier had there not been robots assisting the Worms, two different kinds, a large one almost as big as a Worm and a smaller one only about half the size. The robots were mixed in with the Worms but used the same kind of weapons, something between a handgun and rifle that fired energy bolts.

Dan Bullet hardly worried about Barbara after the defeat became so obvious, but in any case toward the last he got orders that concentrated his mind. His squad was told to move at a dead run toward a position at the edge of a heavily shrouded but blackened tree line. It was near the central city area at the edge of near total destruction where the plasma cannon had been. A large group of Worms was attacking the second squad, coming up from beneath the city, and they needed reinforcements quickly. The second shuttle had been sent in to land behind them and try plugging the exit point while Bullet's squad would reinforce and try to keep them from being overrun. They were going to be heavily outnumbered but were the only group near enough to pull it off.

"We want prisoners!" He heard the order over his com and cursed, as did most of the others with him.

"You heard the boss," Platoon Sergeant Martinez said. "Dig in quick! They'll be here in two shakes. Let's thin 'em out some first before worrying about prisoners."

Damn straight, Bullet thought. He checked his ammo packs and got ready while wondering how in hell one went about taking prisoners of an enemy that showed no inclination to surrender-but orders were orders. And he certainly agreed with the idea of taking down a good many of them before worrying about capturing any. He got a poor excuse for a fighting hole ready just in time to meet the first of the swarming horde. His first crazy thought was that it looked like something out of a science program, like devouring insects intent on snuffing out all life in their path, but then it came into perspective.

Charging Worms grew in size until he could see them firing their short stubby rifles and then they suddenly became the enemy, something to kill. They rushed toward him with no attempt to use cover. He felt alone, as if every single one of them were coming to kill him and no one else. For an instant he froze. Then a burst of machine gun fire to his left startled him back into awareness. This is going to get real messy, he thought.

Bullet braced his rifle on the edge of his hole and concentrated on firing as accurately as possible, given the need to put out as much firepower as possible at the same time. His hole was in the forefront. He knew he was going to be overrun before it happened. A surge of fear gripped him in the guts, making him want to get up and run. Only the fact that his squad mates were showing no signs of bugging out kept him in place. The situation gave bugging out a whole new meaning. He didn't know what kept them standing firm but it was enough. So long as they stayed, he would stay and die with them.

He emptied three clips in rapid succession and was sliding another home when the leading wave of Worms reached him. In his haste, the clip slid from his hand. He rose to his feet, knocked a Worm rifle aside and stabbed at it with his bayoneted rifle. Green gore poured from the hole it made. He slid the bayonet out and swung the rifle butt like a club, caving in the head of another Worm all the way down to its mandibles.

Another Worm, apparently out of ammunition just like he was, grabbed him with all four manipulating appendages and dragged him toward its mouth part. Its mandibles clattered in anticipation while he struggled to keep away from them, thinking wildly that they had too many arms and legs. It's not fair! That was his last coherent thought before being punched in the side with a pile driver. His armor collapsed from the force of the impact and the breath went from his body. He curled up in a fetal position, trying to get away from the agony in his side and waited to die. I'm sorry Barb ...he thought. Blackness descended.

Chapter Eleven: War Plans

One of the serious problems in planning the fight against American doctrine, is that the Americans do not read their manuals, nor do they feel any obligation to follow their doctrine... - From a Soviet Junior Army Lieutenant

M.I. does the dying. Fleet just does the flying. - Johnny Rico, Starship Troopers

Major Rambling had his headquarters set up near the remnants of the energy weapon that had fired on Doc Travis. There wasn't much left of the emplacement but ruins, half-filling a large hole in the ground that was still emitting tendrils of smoke and small, flickering flames. A thick base wall that had been in the process of construction provided a perfect barrier against stray slugs or the plasma beams of energy from the weapons used by the worms. He had already ordered some of them gathered and sent back to the shuttles. He wanted them for study and possible future use by his own forces.

A few stragglers and strays among the Worms were still fighting but the latest report said they would be hunted down and eliminated soon. He tapped out of his com and decided to take a few minutes to visit the casualties. There weren't many because any marine hit in the body usually died. The Worms had fought strenuously but badly. It was simply their numerical superiority that kept the battle going as long as it had. That and a number of robots, artificial intelligences he thought, about half the size of the Worms, that had been mixed in with the last of the defenders. He'd had to bring both heavy weapons squads up to take them out and they had caused more casualties than he liked to think about before being silenced. Still, it was the lack of organization and planning on the part of the Worms that contributed most to the victory, he thought. It seemed strange. The energy gun that fired on their ship had certainly been ready. If it had been much more powerful the results could have been disastrous.

One of the wounded was just having his armor cut off. There was a huge dent in the right side of the scorched plate that covered his mid-section. The corporal was blinking away tears but didn't seem to be in great pain.

"How is he doing?" Rambling asked one of the medics attending him.

The man looked up from where a pair of shears was cutting away the mangled release mechanism. "He may have some internal bruising but I think he'll make it fine. The plasma the Worms use in their rifles don't have near the punch as ours. It's the heat from a hit that kills. This man was lucky. He just got a glancing blow. He'll have a bad burn beneath his armor but he should make it with some debridging and new skin. He was with the squad that got overrun in Bravo section. Looks like they all stood their ground."

Rambling touched the shoulder of the marine. "Good job, son. Your squad probably saved a good many of your buddies from getting hurt, or worse. If they had gotten into the rear area they'd have caused a lot of trouble before the reserves got to them."

"Th...th'ks, sir. Hurts."

The medic pressed a pressure syringe against his Bullet's forearm. It made a snapping sound. The corporal blinked then sighed as the painkiller took hold.

Rambling went on from one to the next, complimenting them on their combat ability and telling them not to worry now. It was a pleasant duty for him, in one way. He had expected much worse.

Inside the cover attached to the wall where he had a temporary combat communications center he commed his executive officer. She was still in the field, recording results of the fighting and guard details for the few prisoners. "Captain Cantrell."

"Cantrell here, sir."

"Cindy, can you turn what you're doing over to one of the headquarters' officers and get back to the command center?"

"Yes, sir. We're down to organizing exploration teams and re-checking the stories of the Wannstead people we found. It's fantastic, isn't it?"

"That it is. This whole detail is fantastic and it doesn't sit right with me. There's more to it than meets the eye. I don't like it."

"My feelings exactly sir."

"Anything specific?"

"Not yet, sir. Maybe after we've got it all analyzed and the intelligence people have gone over it."

"Well, we'll have to go with what we've got right now. The Captain wants a briefing and you've seen more of the action than me. Would you mind going back to the ship and speaking with him?"

She felt an incongruous thump of her heart. The few times she had been in the presence of Captain Keane the same thing happened despite her attempts to stifle it. There just wasn't a chance in hell of what her body demanded ever being satisfied.

"Not at all, sir. I'll get going now."

Thankfully, her mind could overrule her physical response to seeing Keane or force it to be still enough not to reveal what she was thinking. A chance to brief him one on one was a dream come true but she wished it weren't. Nevertheless, as soon as she was out of sight of the combat command area she brushed her hair back and tied it with a ribbon that wasn't exactly regulation but came close. When she was certain she wasn't being observed she brushed as much debris from her fatigues as possible and used a hand mirror to touch up her face just a bit, all the time telling herself how stupid she was.

***

"The objective is secure, sir, but I don't fully understand what we're seeing down here." Major Rambling's voice came through clearly to Keane and there was no sign now of fighting from where the assault shuttle had landed. The Captain was relieved but he didn't exactly like what he was being told.

"What do you mean, Steel?"

"Sir, it's nothing that's an immediate danger to us or the ship right now but I'd like to look around some more, and I do have exploration parties out gathering more intelligence. May I send my XO back to you with a preliminary report? I could also send half my marines back on the shuttle as well and have that out of the way. We certainly don't need them here anymore."

"That good?"

"We have a few prisoners, sir, but we had to take them by force. Our casualties weren't high considering the opposition, but we did take some extra ones trying to subdue a few of the Worms for questioning. There's a couple of other considerations but Cindy will tell you all about it."

"All right, Steel. I must say you have me curious. Who came up with the name for the aliens?"

"Worms?

"Yes."

"I don't know, sir. It just started and spread. All the men are using it now."

"Okay. It fits, I suppose. Take care. Don't lose any more of your marines. I have a feeling we're going to need them again."

"Wait until you hear from Capt-from Major Cantrell. You'll be certain of it then."

"Fine. Keane out."

***

Keane had met the Marine XO, Captain Cindy Cantrell, only a few times, usually in formal settings such as dinners, but had been impressed with the calmness of her bearing and acumen in being able to discuss subjects outside her specialty. When she was admitted to his day cabin he hardly recognized her as the same person. She had obviously taken the time to stop at her stateroom to freshen up after the groundside combat but that wasn't the reason she seemed different to him. Perhaps it was the informal setting in his cabin or the sight of her in combat fatigues instead of uniform. Or maybe it was the ribbon. He smiled inwardly as he noted its color, brighter than regulation but not quite enough to bring a reprimand.

She seemed both younger and more at ease than before, especially just coming from the site of some rather fierce fighting. Whatever, he found himself relating to her in a fashion he was quite certain wasn't appropriate, certainly not in a duty setting where she would be briefing him on the recent combat. Recognizing his reaction, he tried assuming a mantle of formality, not with a great deal of success. He wasn't aware that Cantrell had noted his first reaction and the subsequent change in his manner.

"Coffee? Or would something a bit stronger suit you now?" He asked.

"Just coffee would be fine, sir. In fact it would be more than welcome. Thank you."

CPO Mura appeared as if by magic with a tray and carafe. She took quick note of her Captain's expression and also of his visitor's intent to discuss the recent clash with the planet's aliens and set the tray on the coffee table in the area suitable for a personal presentation. She filled both cups and set the cream and sugar out.

"Thank you, Chief."

"Yes, sir," she said and withdrew.

"Go ahead, Major. Pour for us. And may I call you Cindy while we're in this setting? I suppose there are good reasons why only one person may be called Captain on a ship, but I want to pick your brains right now and I can do it better in a Cindy setting than a Major setting, if you don't mind."

She smiled prettily in answer, making him wonder how much of his feelings he was giving away despite himself. "Certainly, sir. I don't mind at all."

"Very well, let's get started, then. I understand that was indeed a Chinese ship that beat us here?"

"Yes sir. Unfortunately, there are very few of them left. From what the most senior survivor, a noncom, told us, after their ship was shot down, the survivors were overwhelmed despite attempts at friendly contact. The few still alive surrendered. Those few were being confined in an unfinished sub-basement where the Worms were defending against us. When we were forced to use heavy weapons to break in, most of them were killed."

"How about their ship. How badly damaged is it?"

"I'm sorry sir, I can't tell you for certain. Major Rambling has requested an engineering crew to look at it and I understand they're on their way now."

"They are. I thought you might know something. Never mind. Tell me about the aliens, the Worms."

She leaned back in her chair, apparently arranging her thoughts, then leaned forward again. "Would it be alright if I showed you the recordings taken from the shuttle and our personal coms, sir? One of our intelligence techs spliced a good bit of it together. It's rough but fairly coherent."

"Certainly."

She plugged the record chip into his day cabin computer. She checked her hand control then quickly began projecting and explaining.

"The Worms aren't very good at ground combat, sir, as you can see here." She showed a group of aliens charging headlong into a hastily prepared marine position. They were cut down in swaths. "The only reason we had as much trouble as we did is that they outnumbered us by quite a margin, and didn't show any inclination at all toward surrendering, even after it became obvious they were whipped. The only captives we have were subdued after they ran out of ammunition for their weapons, or were wounded and no longer able to resist. This is some good footage here. See how we had to actually wrestle them to the ground and tie them?" Keane chuckled at the sight of hardened marines attempting to handcuff the eight appendages of an alien to immobilize it while the creature struggled and resisted the whole time. Finally one of the larger marines wrestled the multi-limbed alien to the ground while others cuffed the Worm's appendages.

"Who's the big marine that that finally brought that one down?" laughed Keane.

"I think that's corporal Sal Salvino, a big guy from New Jersey who used to wrestle heavyweight."

"Bet he never had a match like that!"

"No, I don't think so, sir, but since he was so good at bringing that one down, they had him take down two more ...that was before a fatter Worm broke his nose."

"Sorry to hear about that, I'll make sure I stop by and thank the corporal for his initiative."

"I'm sure he'd like that sir."

"Any intel from the prisoners? I wonder how in the hell we'll communicate?"

"The good news is that we have a few interpreters who know their language."

"Really? How so?"

"Um ...that ties in with what Major Rambling said about other considerations, sir. There were survivors from the Wannstead ship, and by the way, it was indeed the last one that went missing. They've only been captives for a few months but there were a few other humans mixed with them who had been transferred from either Xanadu or another colony from within the Bolt Cluster. I'm not sure which, and they're not either. It's still rather confusing. At any rate, those few have been prisoners for a long time, probably since the first or second Wannstead ship was lost. They have a pretty good knowledge of the alien language. Major Rambling's intelligence officer and his assistant are just beginning to question the captive Worms with their help. They weren't being very cooperative when I left but I suppose that could have changed. I guess you can agree that the news of other settlements within the cluster is the most important piece of data we've gotten so far."

Keane looked at the recordings while nodding abstractedly. The Worms were secured to various pieces of heavy furniture or to built-in appliances of sturdy but unknown function found in one of the few buildings with finished roofs. The older humans who had been captives of the aliens were dressed in not much more than rags, while the younger looking ones, presumably from the last Wannstead ship to be lost, still had on vestiges of uniforms.

"I suppose they must be overjoyed at being rescued," Keane commented.

He saw Cindy's expression change into one of, if not hatred, something close to it. "You don't know the half of it, sir. They have been treated as slaves, both literally and figuratively, ever since being captured. And sir, from what we've seen of how the Worms use so much robotic labor, there is no reason at all for slavery. This footage here shows Merrilyn Meadows, one of the women who was a captive and transferred from Xanadu, we think." The woman was dressed in a tattered wrap that hung from her shoulders and dropped to mid-thigh. It was gathered at the waist by what looked like a rope. "She told me that the Worms actually had to work at finding enough for them to do. It was apparently a desire to have menials to order around and to punish for disobedience that rocked their boat, nothing else. You can see her condition. The others are just like that. The older ones are in rags and barefooted, other than what a few of them have devised or scrounged for themselves."

"Well, we'll tend to them and get them fed and clothed just as quickly as the situation warrants. We need to get them thoroughly debriefed, too. The whole situation seems quirky to me, an enigma, if you will. What are the Worms you questioned saying about this place?"

Cindy sipped at her coffee, remembering the glare of hatred Merrilyn had sustained toward the aliens during the period of questioning she had been present for. "It is apparently a ...a colony of a colony. That's about the best we've come up with so far. Xanadu is the main settlement in the cluster, but if what they're saying is right, it is a colony as well from an empire of sorts quite a ways from here. Xanadu was the first and, according to them, others are being added with Xanadu as the primary site of supplies and colonists."

She frowned. "The thing is, they seem to have little loyalty or feeling toward the home worlds. That's if we're reading them right. In fact, all of them are ...well, they seem to be stoical and unfeeling now that we've beaten them. I want to say they're stupid but until we know more I think we shouldn't assume that of them. However, the term fits if you consider how they fought on the ground. It was more like ants boiling up from a disturbed mound rather than an intelligent defense of their settlement. In fact, their AIs, their robots, fought better than the Worms did, according to a few of the troops I spoke with. I can't say much more about that until we have more detail, though. In fact, sir, this is a very incomplete report. I'm sure Major Rambling and the intelligence officer will have much better brief for you in a few more days."

"Have you gotten to the reason why they were able to overcome the Wannstead and Chinese ships and not ours? Was it simply our shield and the fact that we were able to get close through our stealth systems?"

"I'm sorry, sir. We hadn't gotten that far when Major Rambling decided to send me up to brief you. I'm sure he and the intelligence staff will get with your own people and hash it out. If you want my own, completely unsubstantiated opinion, the defenses on Xanadu and their other settlements, if there are any, will be more substantial than here. Whether the Worms will fight any better is ...an unknown, I'd have to say."

"Mmm. That laser, or whatever the hell it was they hit our shield with, wasn't a toy by any means. Never mind, I'll get into that with the specialists. Let's move on. The settlement here looked largely unfinished from space. Was that your impression on the ground?"

"Yes, sir." She quickly brought up an overhead view taken from the second assault shuttle that had flown higher than the first. It showed a cleared circular area about five miles in diameter, presumably meant to be the outlines of a future city. "Luckily we didn't blow it all up. The weapon compound that had the plasma cannon was the only area seriously damaged, so a lot of the city in progress is still there."

"How come it wasn't completed? They sure as hell had weapons ready."

"The people from the Wannstead ship said the Worms had barely gotten started on this settlement when they arrived and were shot down. Presumably, the same thing happened to the Chinese so we can be fairly certain that defenses against other beings are one of the first things they set up in a new colony. If we compare the original recordings made by that first Wannstead ship, the place here was intended to pretty well duplicate the city on Xanadu. Oh, and we did hear that Xanadu is indeed a completed settlement now, and given how little we know so far, there may even be a couple more of their colonies in the cluster." She shrugged, giving evidence of how little real intelligence they had on the aliens so far.

"So, if I'm reading it right, they finish one city then move on and begin building another without even starting to develop the planet. Strange. I wonder if they're not trying to claim all the habitable planets in the cluster as rapidly as possible? It's something to look into."

"Yes sir. And there's another anomaly. When they are asked how something works, their defensive energy weapon they used against Doc Travis, for instance, they claim not to know."

"Do you think they're lying?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea, sir, nor does intelligence yet. But it's not just the large things. They claim not to know how the power supply of their city works either. All reasons for believing they may be stupid and rely on robots almost entirely for construction, but that really doesn't seem reasonable. Admittedly, we've only just begun to grill them, but Major Rambling thinks we're missing something. I do, too but I can't pin it down." She paused meditatively for a moment.

"Of course there are a lot of robots around and believe it or not, some continued right on working even while the fighting was going on. Others, though, joined the fighting. I believe most of the robots were destroyed but that's by no means certain. A few have been found that are simply inert, for some reason. Possibly our plasma pulses affect them. There may be more of them but we don't know. It's such a large area it would take more than our troops to thoroughly explore the place."

She looks troubled, he thought. But whatever it was, he figured it would come out eventually. Rambling had said he thought something was awry as well, so it wasn't just her. The robots bothered him, too. She showed him recordings of them hauling materials to mixers that turned out sheets of silvery material which was in turn stacked in ordered piles as if for later use. He remembered how some of the edifices in the original Wannstead survey of Xanadu were of that color.

"We'll find out what's going on, Cindy." He touched the control of the recording that had been fed back to Doc Travis during the fighting. It was jumbled and poor quality but he had picked out a few images he was interested in. "Look here. This is one of the male Worms, right?"

She grinned. "It's one of the two sexes, Captain. We don't know whether the browns are the males or the females. The former captives say they think they are males, but if they are it certainly isn't apparent."

"I'm not worried about it right now. Our bio specialists will pin it down. I was looking at the mouth parts. The chewing apparatus strikes me as multi-functional, making them omnivores, and their mandibles certainly indicate they are. Is that what your impression was?"

"They have what looks like some crop areas going in the central cleared area but we also found what looked to be a butcher shop."

"I saw it. Gruesome. Apparently they're cannibals, if we can use that term for them. We'll pass over it for now. What were their casualties? How many did you kill?"

"Several thousand, sir. Probably better than ten thousand. As noted, they weren't very good at ground combat. But what we did find was that they all fought. Even the little Worms got into it. I saw one of the little shits bite a chunk out of a private's foot after he passed it by. I felt bad because I initially wanted to shoot it dead and didn't-but it was only a child, sir."

"Don't be sorry. Whatever their philosophy is, we'll have to deal with it. That slavery business bothers me the most, that and the unknown number of their cities in the cluster. And you said Merrilyn told you they didn't really need slaves?"

"Historically speaking, sir, slavery never pays off financially in the long run."

"True." He rubbed his chin. This was one aspect of an alien species he had never considered. "And you said there are more slaves at Xanadu?"

"Yes, sir, so they say. And also at the other settlements they think are being built. Children, too."

"Chil ...oh hell. I should have guessed, after hearing they kept slaves. The first Wannstead ship must've not been destroyed outright, either. And I guess the contraceptive implants ran out long ago for the women of child bearing age. Same for the men who had them. Damn."

She nodded agreement while he ran more footage of the recording, asking her questions about the layout of the barely begun city, and how and where the aliens had fought the marines. Eventually his questions played out and he realized he was keeping her just because he was enjoying the conversation, as well as the sight of her. She wasn't classically pretty but she did have an interesting face. Her auburn hair was collected loosely in back by the non-regulation ribbon at present. It went nicely with her light tan skin, probably the heritage of a recent Hispanic ancestor who, if she had also inherited the body shape from, was very well built.

"I guess that's all for now, Cindy. I appreciate you taking time to talk to me right after what must have been a rather grueling affair dirtside. Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir. Any time I can help, please call on me." She stood up, unconsciously displaying her petite figure for him.

"Thank you. Perhaps I will." His eyes met hers for a moment then tracked her as she left his cabin. Despite a heroic attempt to put her into the category of just another officer, he knew he failed. Regardless of his position, he admitted he was interested in her and that wouldn't do at all, not in a combat command with the hardest part of the mission still to go.

Chapter Twelve: Resistance is not futile

The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off.

-Gloria Steinem

"Were you trying to get out of marrying me, Bullet?" Barbara asked. She stood by his bedside in the hospital area of the dispensary, where those too hurt for outpatient status were treated.

"Uh. I'm sure marrying you would have been much more pleasant than being gut shot with a ball of plasma. Damn, that hurt like shit and it didn't even penetrate my armor."

She pulled up his smock. Her face blanched at the sight of the huge area of regenerating skin that covered his whole right side from groin almost to his neck.

"It looks worse than it is, or so the doc told me."

She shook her head. "I hope it goes away. Who'd want to marry a guy looking like that?" She touched his belly button.

"Ouch! I'm still sore. The doc told me I may have to have my spleen taken out."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No biggie. I can get another when we get back."

"You keep getting in the way of bullets, no pun, and you may not make it. I have to go." She leaned down and kissed him. "Get better. I have plans for you."

***

Rambling and First Sergeant Watkins were still wandering through the areas where most of the fighting had occurred. Bodies of the aliens still lay about here and there. No attempt was being made to bury them. Word had come from Keane that only a single day was being given to examine the place before being recalled.

"Dummies. Pure dummies," Watkins said, pointing his rifle at a heap of entangled Worms that had charged a marine position. "How can they build cities and be so dumb?"

"A puzzle, isn't it? Maybe they're just not used to opposition."

"They've managed to dispose of four of our ships, and one Chinese, so they have to be aware of us as a possible source of danger in the future, if not now. Of course, they are aliens and by definition aliens won't think the same way we do. I sent word back with the XO of how we felt. He makes the decisions, but from the way things turned out here I wouldn't be afraid to tackle one of their cities much closer to completion."

"Whoa, Top! Know how many Worms could live in a circular area with a diameter of five miles? And building underground as it looks like they were intending?"

"A million?"

"Something like that, give or take a few hundred thousand. And we have less than six hundred marines now. If you're serious about recommending we tackle a completed city I think we'd need to pound them from space, and then again with the assault shuttles, before tackling them on the ground. Those critters may be dumb but they don't quit, either."

"True enough, but I hate to think of leaving those poor bastards in captivity as slaves any longer than we have to, now that we know about them. And just walking through this place makes me wonder, what with the robots and how the Worms reacted to us, if maybe we're getting the wrong take." He pointed to a squat, grayish contraption with numerous flexible appendages that had been in the act of excavating and shoring up what would have eventually been an underground passageway. It was idle now, as if after the aliens were overcome it no longer had a purpose. "Those things worked during the fighting but as soon as it neared its end they all shut down. They must be simple AIs. On the other hand, a lot of the robots fought. Better than the Worms, when you get right down to it."

"And your point?"

"Just wondering, sir, which of them was in charge, the Worms or their machines?" He glanced toward the Major. Seeing the expression on his face he knew he'd given him food for thought and that whatever his conclusions were, they would find their way to Captain Keane.

***

"Steel, the Captain wants us to examine the robots, so I need your team to bring two of those inactive ones into a secure area of engineering. Also, bring along the intact CPUs of a couple of the ones that joined the fighting. We're going to have Jergen's team open both types up and see if he can figure out what makes them tick," Dunaway said from the command chair in the control room. Keane was resting and had ordered him to prepare the ship for departure. An earlier discussion with Keane and specialists had convinced the Captain that studying the robots might help explain the alien enigma. It had become clear from interrogations that either the captured Worms were lying, stupid, or both. It would be hard for memory chips or microprocessors to lie, assuming these robots were similar to human design. Something had to be controlling them, and the data was surely stored somewhere.

"Yes sir, I'll see that it's taken care of." Major Rambling gave the order to the First Sergeant, telling him to hurry. They were already loading up to depart.

***

Major Rambling, Cindy Cantrell and First Sergeant Watkins, who was acting as Sergeant Major for the shortened battalion, were part of the focus of the conference Keane had called after the last of the marines and scientists had been lifted from the planet-but a couple of other matters were on the agenda first. Doc Travis was still in orbit but would certainly leave soon. The question was, where to? Captain Whittaker of the Santa Cruz was attending the meeting through intership com. His face and torso were holographically displayed on a special seat at one end of the conference table. The others were seated along both sides with Keane at the head. Carafes of coffee and tea had been distributed and snack foods were available from platters. Each officer and noncom had their TekPads in front of them, their food and/or drink to the side.

Keane rapped the table with his knuckles and the quiet undertone of several conversations that had been taking place died away almost immediately.

"Let's get started," he said. "First, Captain Whittaker, are you satisfied with the way you were able to record the affairs of the expedition to Sleepy?"

"Sleepy, sir? Is that the official name now?"

"Yes, it's official."

"Yes sir, I was well satisfied with what we got. The records are being assembled into a coherent whole right now since we got feeds from numerous sources. The marines and your scientists were also very helpful when we asked for details."

"Good. We'll follow the same procedure at our next objective. Speaking provisionally, you may want to leave some volunteers here to obtain further scientific data and pick them up on your way back. That will depend upon how things go next time. If it works out as planned, there will be no problem, of course. If for some reason Doc Travis is unable to complete its mission at our next stop you may have to make the decision to bypass anyone left on Sleepy and head directly to Earth. Make certain your volunteers know that getting such intelligence as we already have back to Earth will be your first priority."

Whittaker nodded. "The curiosity of scientists knows no bounds, sir. I'm sure I'll have sufficient volunteers no matter the circumstances. What little time they've been able to spend on uh, Sleepy, has merely whetted their appetite. There are a number of marvels down there, even for an alien city just beginning its construction phase."

"Fine. One marvel you won't be examining is their mining operations, though. A lot of it may be underground and there are those idled transport ships. I'm going to order the transports destroyed and the mines caved in with rail guns. Now that we've settled that, you need to make provisions for taking a couple of the aliens back with you. It seems that our physiological needs are fairly similar but there is plenty of their food stuff lying around so you can stock up on it. You're also to take most of the former human captives back with you. If that leaves you short on living quarters you can send your platoon of marines over to us. In fact, I believe that is a good idea regardless. Objections, anyone?"

"The marines currently with us are rather put out at having been only observers so far, Captain. I'm sure they won't object," Whittaker said with a chuckle.

"Alright, consider it done. We'll begin making all these switches immediately after this conference but it will be the shuttles from Doc Travis that perform the work. Your ship, Captain Whittaker, is not to land on any planet at all. We can't take chances with it. You have a single shuttle you can use to pick up your people on Sleepy if it works out that way, but you are not to land your ship. One way or another we have to get all this intelligence back to Earth. We know now why ships disappeared in this cluster, but they don't yet. Furthermore, we know very little of the Worms and what drives them, how their society works, where their original home is and what they're up to out here, nor where their robots fit into the picture. It's still pretty much of an enigma. We'll get as much data as we can at the next stop and send it home with Santa Cruz. Is everyone clear on our intentions so far?"

Nods of assent greeted his question.

"Next item, and I need all the input possible here. According to the intelligence we've gathered so far, the next alien city, if there is one before we hit Xanadu, will be in a more complete state. Can we conquer it with the personnel and weapons we have on hand, and if so, how? Bear in mind a city of this size with a fulfilled population might number as high as a million."

"We can't do it without a substantial preliminary bombardment and continuing air cover from both the ship and assault shuttles, sir," Rambling stated flatly.

"I agree," Cindy said.

"As do I," Sergeant Watkins assented.

"Is it necessary to conquer them?" Sherry Aguilara, chief of the civilian scientific community on board, and thus Keane's science adviser, asked. "Destroying their mining operations is bad enough." The severe set of her features said very plainly that she didn't care for the idea at all.

"Ms. Aguilara, our ship was fired on without warning and very nearly destroyed by the defenses of a largely unfinished alien city. They have either destroyed or captured four other ships over the years. They have been keeping humans as slaves. Furthermore, none of its inhabitants showed the least sign of wanting to make friendly contact nor did they show any sign of a surrender reflex during the ground fighting. Unless you have a better idea, I see no recourse."

"We could just leave with what data we have and let a diplomatic team return to establish contact."

To give her credit, Keane knew that would be the safest course of action and would guarantee that at least some intelligence regarding the aliens got back to Earth. On the other hand, his mission was to discover the reason behind the ships lost in the Bolt Cluster. He could return and give the reason as "Alien hostility" if he desired, and that would satisfy the wording of his mission. In his opinion, it would be a cop out, though. The admiralty, not to mention the President, wanted to know what in hell was going on in this cluster of stars. And he was the one who had to make the decision. There was an incongruity about the sophistication of the alien construction and their behavior that didn't make sense. He thought he needed more data before returning.

"While that might satisfy the bare essentials of our mission, I don't believe it would meet the full intent of what my superiors intended, Ms. Aguilara," he said. "With that in mind, I intend to take us on to our next scheduled stop and continue on our planned course until we find another of the Worm cities or arrive at Xanadu."

"If you feel you must, but may I ask how on earth you came up with the terminology for the aliens? They certainly aren't Worms in a biological sense, regardless of their appearance. I consider it derogatory."

"Since they've so far shown no desire to learn English, I doubt if it makes a difference ... but I'm sure the scientific community will take your objections into consideration should it come to interaction between them and us. In the meantime, the crew has already adopted 'Worm' as the preferred name for them and I doubt anything short of a direct order will change that now. Probably even an order wouldn't work." He noticed Sergeant Watkins hiding a smile behind his hand and knew how the man must feel. Of course, Aguilara hadn't had to face the swarming aliens when they were intent on killing any human in sight. "We need to move on. Major Rambling?"

"I can get a bombardment and air support plan worked out, sir. Whether you'll be able to use the bombardment from space will depend on what the defenses of the next city are like. After that, I'll have a number of different scenarios we may face and plans for each of them. I'm not in favor of ground combat unless we can get them bunched up into killing fields, though."

Aguilara blanched, along with a couple of other officers. It wasn't often they heard the marines speak so bluntly of tactics.

"How about the former captives? Have they given you any indication of how the Worms will react when we appear? Or rather, will those from a completed city act any differently than what we've seen so far?"

"They just don't know, sir. Remember, they were slaves, menials ...oh shit! Sorry, sir, there's something I just now remembered. When we were debriefing Merrilyn Meadows, one of the transferees from Xanadu, she told us they have a working underground resistance movement there!"

Keane's expression brightened. "Great! Did she say whether they had weapons? And what their numbers are? How well organized? How much intelligence they've gathered?"

"Whatever she knows, we'll find out quickly, sir. I'm sorry, it was just a passing thing at the time and we were all still coming down from combat. I'll get the information back to you. In fact ..."

Sergeant Watkins rose from his chair without being asked. "If you'll excuse me, sir?"

"Certainly."

"That puts a different aspect on the situation, sir," Cindy said. "We may want to think about locating the city from as far out in space as possible then landing some distance from it and sending a shuttle closer with infiltrators."

"We'd probably need some volunteers from the former captives," Rambling said. "We also might want to hold up on sending so many of them back with Santa Cruz. If they will volunteer, they could be a great help."

"See to it after this conference if you would, Major."

"Yes, sir."

"Now to another question for the science section. Ms. Aguilara, I sent you our recording of the parameters of the shot the Worms took at Doc Travis and asked to have it worked over thoroughly. Have you gotten an analysis back from your people yet on exactly what it was and how powerful it could be? Whether it was indeed a plasma cannon, as we've been assuming?"

"I've been concentrating on communicating with the few natives you captured, Captain. I'm afraid it's still in my files."

Keane's mouth tightened with anger. Before he could speak, Commander Mundahan offered an opinion.

"Sir, Commander Levy and I have analyzed it pretty thoroughly. To the extent of our knowledge, I should say. We weren't able to define the limits of its capabilities."

"Which is why I wanted a physicist to look into it," Keane said. "Suppose you two get with Professor Juenne right after we conclude here and see what you come up with? You might want to bring Lieutenant Jergens into the circle as well."

"Yes, sir. You'll have a report just as soon as possible." Keane laughed inside at the way Mundahan ignored the glare Aguilara gave her. It certainly wasn't her fault if the chief science officer had neglected her duty and the Captain was now bypassing her. It eased his anger at Aguilara somewhat.

"Captain Keane, may I make a suggestion?"

The officers all shifted their attention toward Senior Master Chief Thomas Berry, the Chief of Boat and senior enlisted man aboard Doc Travis. Ordinarily he was quiet and unobtrusive until asked a question, but was highly respected. He'd been serving in space aboard interstellar ships ever since Wannstead began manufacturing them. All the enlisted element and most of the junior officers regarded him as, if not God, then His designated naval prophet.

"Certainly you can make a suggestion, Senior Master Chief," Keane said immediately. He wasn't about to ignore anything the COB had to say.

"Sir, given that we now know that the Worms are keeping human prisoners, or slaves if what I heard is right, I believe we should stick to our schedule and stop at every place there might be a Worm colony." He paused for a moment, seeming to be lost in thought, then continued more slowly. "I don't know how I would be able to face the folks back home if it got out that we bypassed any place where space explorers, military or not, were being held against their will by aliens. Hell, sir, I don't know if I could face myself.

"I suspect most everyone in the ship would tell you exactly the same thing if asked, sir. Just the fact that we now know Xanadu has an underground tells us how bad conditions must be for them." He paused again for a moment then continued before anyone else had a chance to speak. "There have been times in our history when we in the military learned later that persons in high places made deliberate decisions to abandon captives in order to not upset applecarts. I think they were dead wrong then and I feel like we'd be wrong if we did that now, sir."

Keane ran the idea through his mind several times before answering. "Boats, you've presented a very cogent point. I can't say that I disagree with you at all." He scanned the faces at the table. "Comments, ladies and gentlemen?" Keane said quietly even though he had already come near to making up his mind to go along with the COB's suggestion. Now that the point had been brought up it shamed him not to have thought of it first. Even if it didn't go directly to the heart of the enigma, there would very possibly be additional intelligence to be gained before tackling Xanadu. Further, if any more captives could be rescued before arriving at Xanadu they, like the ones here, could probably offer much needed intelligence. And given the existence of an underground, they might be a big help in subduing the city of Xanadu as well. There were several more earth-like planets in the general direction of the Xanadu system. Checking them out wouldn't take all that much extra time.

Every one of his own thoughts, and a number he hadn't had, came out in the succeeding discussion, but in the end it was his decision to make. It was surprisingly easy.

"Gentlemen, ladies, Senior Master Chief Berry brought up a very cogent point. We'll do our best to rescue any captives before reaching Xanadu. I'd like you all to remember something, though. Just because we did well here doesn't mean we have to get too jaunty. If we find a Worm city, I believe we can assume it is more or less the same as the one we just finished with. If we discover the remains of either of the other two Wannstead ships, we'll go in. Failing that, on to Xanadu."

The response to the Chief of Boat's idealistic thought was overwhelmingly favorable, even if it did mean changing the proposed personnel arrangements once again. All but the marines. The platoon from the Santa Cruz would still be moved to Doc Travis to augment their forces. An hour later, Keane adjourned the conference and the movement of personnel back and forth between the two ships began.

Chapter Thirteen: Million of the Bastards

The only thing that scares me more than space aliens is the idea that there aren't any space aliens. We can't be the best that creation has to offer. I pray we're not all there is. If so, we're in big trouble.

- Ellen DeGeneres

"Do you really think there's any hope of rescue or even escaping the city, Doug?" Clemmie asked. They were sitting together outside on one of the hard benches. It was early morning and mists kept the sunlight from being too bright. Morning was always the best time outdoors. It was strangely quiet for them to be in an open area so near the edge of the city. One would think that the numerous flying creatures inhabiting the area would be flitting around and that calls of ground dwellers could be heard. The opposite was true. The local fauna avoided the completed city. Doug suspected some sort of radiation or force field aggravated them enough to make them keep their distance but it was only a thought. He didn't really know.

Later on it would grow almost too hot to stand. On occasions when he was assigned an errand that took him outside during the afternoon he was always glad that he wasn't forced to work the crops. That was brutal labor. He thought the Sinchik robots could be taught the duties the humans were performing outside, and in fact some robots already did a lot of the field work. He had observed that there were several types of robots. Construction or agricultural robots appeared to be little more than AIs similar to ones used on Earth, although more advanced. There was also what he thought of as a general purpose robot, a thing that looked like a cart with tentacles ending in implements that were used to supervise humans or direct other robots and also do general work. And last were two similar types. One was half the height of a full grown Sinchik, very fast and had a number of manipulative arms. The other was larger, one and a half times the size of the smaller. Both were capable of conversation and had varied duties, including supervision of humans. The big difference was that the smaller gave the larger its orders, at least if his observations were correct. What it all meant he didn't know, although he had suspicions.

"Sure, I think we've got a chance, Clemmie, or I wouldn't be part of the underground. If we can gather a few more weapons we'd have enough to defend ourselves in the jungles. It's the damn power packs that stymie us. Once the power's depleted from the packs, we'd be helpless against the predators."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. Her lips parted as if about to say something but closed without speaking. He turned his head and kissed her briefly. In just a few short days he had grown very fond of her. Too much so, he knew, because they would soon be parted, with a chance they'd never see each other again.

"Damn them to hell and back. God, I hate the bastards. Dumb shits, but they hold the whip hand." Her voice rose then fell as the hopelessness of their situation settled back in her mind.

"Surely one of the nations on Earth is building better ships by now. Sooner or later they'll come back here." He said it with a firmness that he didn't know he really believed. Hope was all that they had, though, and he fully shared her opinion of the Sinchik aliens. He hated them too, but lately he had begun to wonder just how independent of the robots they were. He still thought they were the biggest problem, though, as did most of the captives. But the majority of them wanted nothing to do with the underground even though they were secretly in sympathy with it. They were just too scared to take part. That didn't bother him too much. He knew that most of humanity never had the will to revolt except under conditions more extreme than what they were suffering.

"By that time we may be dead and gone. Besides, look what happened to the ship that came after us."

"Yeah." He knew all too well. It had been shot down and crashed, with less than half the crew surviving, and many who had only been hurt were put to death afterwards. There hadn't been another starship since, not that anyone knew of. "But, Clemmie, it did come, even after ours was lost. It tells us they are still trying, even if it has been so many years."

"Don't listen to me, Doug. If I didn't have hope I wouldn't be talking rebellion. It's good we were able to make contact, too. It gives us both a better chance for when the time comes to escape-or maybe even sacrifice ourselves for the freedom of others." Clemmie's eyes watered up and a tear fell down her cheek. "That's why I just blurted out the password to you. I was becoming so depressed that I really didn't give a damn. I just wanted to do anything that might help change our circumstances."

He held her tighter and said, "There're things worse than death, Sweetheart, but I'm not giving up without a fight. I just hope we manage to see each other again before it happens!"

***

"Sir, Lieutenant Wannstead and Professor Harriette Juenne are here," CPO Mura announced.

Keane looked up from his desk in the captain's day cabin. "Thank you, Wanna. Send them in please."

Keane knew the young nerdy looking physicist concealed a mind of major stature to be selected for this mission. Her long blond hair was rolled into a bun and although she wore civilian clothes, they were practical and not flashy. She seemed like an actor out of an old 2000 prep school movie. She had to be very good even if her countenance did suggest she should still be in High School, or college at most. Why she wore thick glasses when she could have had the free Navy laser eyesic correction seemed odd, but physicists were a strange breed. Dunaway, his XO, was the only physicist Keane considered 'normal', but he was as cool as a cucumber and tough as titanium nails. Probably the smartest one on the ship except for Harriette, who was elegantly walking into the room carrying her TekPad. Wannstead was empty handed.

"Brian, Professor. Thank you for coming." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Would you like some refreshments?"

"Coffee would be fine, thank you," Harriette said. Her voice was confident and her manner assured. He mentally added a good few years to her age.

"Coffee's good sir," Wannstead agreed.

A moment later, after Mura had served them and withdrawn, Keane leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "Who wants to start?" he asked.

"Go ahead, Harriette," Wannstead said, gesturing with an open palm.

"Alright. I can elaborate on this in more detail later, Captain. As you're aware, Brian and I were only recently advised of your request."

He nodded and motioned for her to continue.

"The energy beam that hit our ship, or shield, rather, appears to have been essentially a high energy laser - but there was a peculiarity to it. It shouldn't have been as powerful as it was, considering the distance it traveled and the amount of atmosphere it traversed. Somehow they managed to keep it contained into a tight coherent beam and prevent the attenuation you'd normally see in a laser over that distance, especially traveling through atmosphere. It wouldn't have taken much more to burn through our shield according to Lt. Jergens. I agree with his analysis. According to the readings we recorded while the laser was firing in timed pulses, each succeeding pulse was more powerful than the last. If that increase had continued, or if we hadn't destroyed or damaged it at the source, it would have overcome our shield."

"How much more energetic could it have become? Is there any way of telling?"

She shrugged. "I can't say for sure since I don't know how it was accomplished to begin with. The Doc Travis's rail gun and plasma pulser wiped out the whole area. All we picked up were scraps of a new alloy with peculiar properties. Very high elasticity combined with extreme strength. Think of super strong rubber metal. We have nothing like it. As for the energy of the weapon, it's all speculation."

Keane was not interested in new metals. The enemy weapon was the big problem. "Harriette, can you please speculate on how much more powerful the pulses would have become?"

"Well ...just based on the first few hits, and taking into consideration really low atmospheric attenuation, another twenty to thirty per cent in yield would have been sufficient to break through our magnetospheric shield."

Keane frowned. "The reason lasers are so powerful is that they don't attenuate. The light is coherent and doesn't spread. And the increase in energy ...that's not like a normal laser, is it?"

"Doesn't spread much, Captain. There's a difference. And no, lasers usually contain about the same amount of energy, assuming the pump remains the same. Generally, you can't increase that without damaging the emitting source. However, it appears that the Worms have managed. What we saw was probably the result of the laser obtaining more pumping energy as the source of its power came on line and was then increased. How much more energy the weapon could have drawn is unknown. In practical terms, it means we need to take down the source very quickly after the energy weapon begins firing on us."

"Um, yes. Go on." It wasn't sounding good so far.

She shifted her gaze to Wannstead.

"Sir, it's not all bad news. We've been talking to Fred ...to Lt. Jergens, that is, and he thinks he can enhance the shield, at least temporarily. And Harriette has a couple of ideas that I think will work."

"Tell me." Keane motioned with his hand for them to continue.

Brian frowned and rubbed his forehead as if thinking. "Sir, it's a bit unorthodox but ...well, we can't do anything about the tightness of the beam at its origin, nor its source of energy, but if we can react quickly enough I think the Quantum set of our drive can be attuned to match the laser pulses and in turn send a ...a surge into the shield at precisely the moment the beam hits it. That should partially dissipate it. It won't be much but if we could also match our plasma pulser to interfere with the beam before it arrives ...well, everything together should protect us."

Keane smiled thinly. "You keep saying 'should'."

"Without a test against the actual laser beam of the Worms, there's no way to be certain, Captain," Professor Juenne stated. "Besides, we're talking light speed here, a precision interference that's not been tried before. Take the laser pulser. We can't affect the first beam, of course, because we won't know they're firing until it hits us. What we'll have to do is trace the path back, compensate for movement and then fire our pulser along that path. It might take several tries before we manage to interfere with it because we'll be anticipating. Unfortunately, the pulser is called that because it shoots plasma pulses, not a continual beam, although it does shoot a succession of them rapidly. See the problem?" Her earnestness made her look a bit older.

"Yes, I see, but get with Lt. Jergens and go to work on all that. I'll get you whatever resources you need. I want you to find a way to double the strength of our shield before we hit the next planet." He mused for a moment. "Of course, it sounds like the best solution would be to respond very quickly with counterfire and destroy either the power source or the laser housing. I suggest you consult with Commander Mundahan and see what can be done along that line, too."

Professor Juenne smiled. "Captain, I said we might be able to interfere with a more powerful pulse, a twenty per cent more powerful one-but sir, you're asking for a one hundred per cent increase, and that may be impossible-and even if we could, the energy required for the shield could cause a quantum instability in our drive. We don't have equipment for that kind of flux containment. We could blow up the whole ship."

"Actually we might have the equipment," admitted Brian sheepishly.

"What?! What do you mean?" asked Harriette.

"My father and I had the C class ships built with a second super conductor flux containment field generator. It's hidden in the enclosed propulsion module. It's designed to come on line only if the ship's primary generator fails-kind of like an automatic failover. I might be able to bring it online even with the primary working, if you can figure a way to duplex the field-that is, without getting us killed."

Keane was glad he had Brian aboard but was disappointed in the hidden ship specs that he hadn't been told about. "Brian, Professor, get it done, and let me know when the work is completed. I suspect your test will come sooner rather than later. Let's hope your theories match the facts. And Brian, the first free moment you're not tied up with this problem, come see me. If there are any other concealed aspects of his ship, I damn well want to know about them now!"

***

"Million? Did I hear you right? Next time we'll be fighting a fucking million of the bastards?" Bullet said, aghast at the number named. He lowered the trigger housing of his rifle down to the lap cover and stared around the armory as if the Worms were about to start pouring inside.

Zembra shrugged. "That's what I heard. Don't take it as hard fact."

"Well, all I can say is we better have more air cover and battlefield preparation than we did last time. Shit. You sure you didn't hear, like multitude instead of million?"

"My hearing's perfect, Dan, unlike some marines I could mention."

"Okay. Shit."

"You said that already."

He tried to grin. "Did I? Well, nothing's wrong with saying it again, is there?"

"Not a thing," Platoon Sergeant Martinez said as he entered the armory. "But what's your problem, Bullet? You worried about fighting a measly million worms?"

"Uh, no, Sergeant."

"Good. I'm pretty sure we have a million rounds for our rifles, so what are you worrying about?"

"Uh, okay, I see it now, Sergeant. One round, one dead worm. We run out of ammo at the same time we run out of worms." He picked the trigger housing back up and began oiling and wiping again.

Zembra said nothing during the discussion but as soon as Martinez was gone she tapped Bullet on the shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"You better not miss, lover," she said and grinned.

***

"Tomorrow will probably be our last day together," Douglas said. He and Clemmie were lying together in her narrow sponge-like bed in the darkness that was broken only by the feeble light from orange glow spots. The half meter square rectangular spaces above head height were always lit, day and night. They were spotted all through the corridors and rooms of the city. "I know." Her voice was little more than a strained whisper. "Doug, before we're parted I have to tell you something."

"So do I," he said, interrupting her. "I've discovered ..."

"It's important, so ...what have you discovered? Is it something to do with the underground?"

"Yes. What about you?"

"Same here." Her laughter was stifled but distinct. "Who goes first?"

He tickled her under her breasts then leaned down to kiss them. "Let me. The group I've been with so long has discovered the central defense node, where the energy beams are manned."

"Energy beams?"

"The ones used to shoot down the ships. Haven't you even heard of them?"

"Oh, sure. Their hand weapons use energy beams, too, you know."

"Yeah. I've seen them in action." His features took on a grim countenance, like a soldier facing overwhelming odds with no way to retreat. He shook his head. "Sorry. Bad memory, anyway, we've worked out a plan. When the next ship from Earth comes into this system we'll know it by the way the Worms and robots who operate the defenses scurry in that direction, to that area. That'll be our signal to come out in the open with everyone armed. We'll take over their defense node then see if we can signal the ship to bomb hell out of them everywhere they concentrate. That'll give the rest of you a chance for a successful uprising in the areas where the Sinchiks and robots have thinned out. All the disorder the bombing will cause should help."

"But ...what if they don't bomb?"

"We'll be shit outta luck, but we're going to do it, Clemmie. We've waited long enough. Even if the ship doesn't give us any help, with that part of the city in our hands the rest of you can make a fight of it. Maybe seize enough weapons and power packs to hold out in the jungle until the next ship comes along. So far as our tech can tell, the commo he concealed during the surrender still works."

"Really? Doug, that's great! Now tell me, just how much do you know about the area surrounding the defenses? Have you explored under them?"

"Under?"

Her mouth opened in surprise. "You don't know, do you?"

She sounded excited. He gripped her waist. "Know what, Clemmie?"

"About the tunnels. Our group just recently found out about them and we've been pushing further and further into them, even though we've lost two people during the exploring. We think they extend under the whole city but we've had to go slow. They're so twisted it's easy to get lost, and of course we can't leave marks to help us. It's sheer brute memory."

"I get it," Doug said, excitement tingeing his voice. "You think we can either escape that way if the ship doesn't respond after we blow the defenses, or if it does, you can send us reinforcements to try holding them until the ship can land and help us. That might work better than a simple rebellion."

"Exactly. I'll pass the word to push on. Can you give me any landmarks, noises we might hear, anything like that when we're near the node? Beneath it, I mean?"

He thought a moment. Noise. "Once a day there's an automatic traverse of the main energy beam housing. A self-check, I suppose. Anyway, it makes a clicking noise for about six or seven minutes. Sort of like this, tchik tchik tchik, and it always does it mid-morning. I'll try to get a more exact timing but it won't help unless we can figure out a way for our groups to contact each other."

Clemmie was quiet for a minute or two but she pressed closer to him during the silence.

"Thinking?"

"Uh huh. The tunnels. I think we can direct someone to your area if you can draw me a map of your Wah in relation to your Welshass's living quarters or working areas."

"That I can do it but it'll have to wait until daylight, unless you have some way of producing more light in here. I'll need writing materials, too."

"I can't help with the light but I have a diary. I leave it out in plain sight to avoid an appearance of conspiracy. You can use a page from it to show me then I'll destroy it."

"Wonderful. Now if they just give us enough time in the morning for me to do it we'll be set. We can't do anything else until then."

"Nothing else?"

"Greedy," he said, the last word he uttered for a long while. But even while making love he knew whatever revolt they might manage to ferment was probably hopeless. There were probably tens of thousands of Sinchiks in the city despite the apparent decrease over the last year or two. Even if a ship managed to destroy the city's defenses, the humans would still be at their mercy, armed or not. The odds were simply too overwhelming to expect a revolt to be successful but if a ship did come, he was determined to try.

Chapter Fourteen: If Opportunity Presents

We have women in the military, but they don't put us in the front lines. They don't know if we can fight, if we can kill. I think we can. All the general has to do is walk over to the women and say, 'You see the enemy over there? They say you look fat in those uniforms.'

- Elayne Boosler

"We're picking us a satellite signal, Captain," Lt. Jr. Grade Bogarty said from the com alcove in the control room. Two hours had passed since entering the Alpha star system, the designated name for the first of the next two systems Keane had decided to stop at, and only a half hour since an astronomy tech reported spotting the earthlike planet they were looking for.

"Is it just a signal or a loop?"

"Appears to be a signal to attract attention, then I believe it'll go into a loop, sir. PO Chou caught just the tail end of it, I think. If it's like the usual ones, it'll repeat in a few minutes."

"What did ...never mind. We'll wait. Put it on my screen in text mode when it comes up again."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Keane signaled for coffee and sipped at it while he waited. The control room was manned by the top officers as was usual when entering a new star system. He scanned the room and noted the tense expertise of the crew. During the course of the mission they had melded into a fine group, he thought, about as good as any he'd ever seen. And the man of steel, Major Rambling, reported his marines ready for whatever might come. Keane was sure they were. He had also worked out a system of air support for the marines, assuming that the ship was still viable and in a position to help. With the upgrade of his defenses the science team had managed, he was confident they could handle most of the contingencies dreamed up by the simulators.

His screen brightened and he began to read the recording from the satellite left in place by a Wannstead spaceship. It gave the ship's name, the time and date, and a brief description of the flora, fauna, atmosphere and major climates. No sign of intelligent life noted after one week survey from orbit, he read, nodding to himself. The recording went on to give the location of its next target world they were referring to as the Beta system, the same one Doc Travis would be heading for, and the last before Xanadu.

"Astrogator," he said in a slightly louder than normal voice.

"Sir!" Commander Manheimer responded.

"Make immediate preparations to come about and prepare a vector for the Beta system."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Com."

"Sir!" Bogarty responded immediately.

"Send the satellite recording to the log, to data storage, and to the Santa Cruz. Also send copies to the science department immediately and leave it uncoded for anyone who wishes to see it."

"Aye, aye, sir."

The exit point from the system on a vector leading to the next stop was in an unfavorable position. Seeing that it would be near half a day before arriving there, he decided to get some sleep first.

"XO, I'll be in my cabin. You have the next four hours of watch, then turn it over to the next officer in line and you get some rest."

"Yes, sir. I'll call you when we're ready."

"Thank you, XO."

Keane departed while chuckling silently to himself. He had almost wanted to see some action after all their preparations. Now there would be several more days of cruising and then another period of mounting tenseness as they awaited whatever might happen next time.

***

"All dressed up and no place to go," Cindy Cantrell complained as she began gathering her "battle rattle", all the accoutrements necessary for ground combat. She wanted to put it in order and get it out of the way for the next few days.

"Don't complain, XO," Major Rambling said, but smiled. "You may have to eat words like that later." They were the only two officers in the day room at present and the last to begin putting their gear away. Both of them had been too busy with the stand-down after no contact was made in the first of the two star systems before Xanadu. The ship had just exited the system and they could go into simulator training until the next one.

"All too true, sir. Even if we don't make contact at the next system, Xanadu's waiting on us. That promises to be a pretty good free for all."

"True enough. But you're not going to see it from the ground, at least not at first."

"Sir?" A startled expression crossed her face. It departed quickly, leaving a blank mask behind. A piece of armor she had been handling slipped free and dropped to the deck. She couldn't imagine what she had done, or had failed to do, that would cause her to be left behind during an initial assault.

He laughed. "You look like a puppy that's just been whapped for no reason at all. Relax, XO. You're going to be in the fight if we have one, just not at your usual position." It had become customary to refer to her as XO rather than as Captain, her rank, in order to avoid the heresy of being mistaken for the ship's Captain.

"What will I be doing? Sir?"

"You're going to be handling the most important job of all so far as we marines go, Cindy. With possibly tens of thousands of Worms on Xanadu, or even more, and those nasty energy weapons backing them up, not to mention the robots, we expect to be outnumbered as much as a thousand to one in an exposed situation. That's besides all the Worms inhabiting the city where our people are trapped. If we have to fight, we're going to need air cover to stand any chance at all. Beginning now, I want you to start working with Commander Mundahan and Captain Keane so you can call down support from the ship when we need it. With the prospective odds so prohibitive, and with the power the ship can wreak, I don't trust anyone but you with the job. I don't want someone accidentally frying our asses dirtside."

"Damn. If that's a compliment, sir, thank you, but I wish you had said something sooner. I'll be starting from scratch."

"I should have," he apologized. "Chalk it up to inexperience with this sort of thing. Fighting aliens, I mean."

She twisted her lips in a wry smile. "Have you already spoken to the Captain and Commander?"

"Yes. I talked to him right after he left the control room." He glanced at his thumb watch. "He'll be expecting you in his day cabin two hours from now."

A picture of Keane formed in her mind. The square jaw and dark hair with attractive graying at the temples and his big, well-muscled form. She knew he was active in the gym and while she hadn't sparred with him, she had seen him work out with one of the marine platoon sergeants. He was good, although not quite up to the sergeant's standard. At first she had intended to debate the assignment with Rambling but perhaps it wouldn't be all that bad. All she had to worry about was keeping her mind on business.

***

Keane was having similar thoughts. He had agreed readily with Rambling when he requested an air controller to work with the ship's weapons officer. It sounded like a very good idea although it had never been tried before. Marine units usually had their own dedicated air support. The new assault shuttles could help by remaining in the area after they dropped their troops, but they were necessarily limited in the amount of weaponry they carried. They had been designed as troop carriers before being armed as well as possible. They couldn't possibly provide the kind of weapons support Doc Travis could, though. And then the Major told him who his choice for FAC was.

"Your XO? But won't you need her for yourself during ground fighting?"

"Ordinarily, yes, sir. But this promises to be fighting on a scale we haven't seen before. That's if we fight at all, of course."

"True. We can't automatically expect the inhabitants of Xanadu or whatever we find on Beta to act the same as the ones of the other city, but I'd suggest it's a damn good bet."

"Oh yes, Captain. We'll prepare for it. Which is exactly why I want Cindy in the control room. She knows our vernacular, the terms we use during combat. I'd like to have her in direct contact with every platoon I put on the ground. And in the meantime, she will need to work with your weapons officer. Commander Mundahan, isn't it?"

Keane nodded.

"Commander Mundahan will have to give her a short course on the ship's weapons, the power level, accuracy, areas of potential destruction of each, what's needed if the Worms are dug in, how to avoid blue casualties, and all the other things she doesn't know right now."

"I hope she's a quick learner."

"She is, sir."

"Good. June is a good teacher. I've seen how she works with the petty officers and junior officers. When would you like to get started?"

"The sooner the better, sir."

"Then there's no time like the present. Let's begin the training today. Would fourteen hundred do?"

"Yes, sir. Where?"

"My day cabin to begin with."

"Great. Thank you sir." Rambling stood up to leave.

"I think June will need to work with the shuttle pilots as well."

"Good thought, sir. I'll get on it."

Once Rambling had departed, Keane had called engineering and asked for a quick revamp of one of the extra control room workstations Wannstead Industries had so providentially provided the Doc Travis. He found it surprisingly easy to visualize Cindy Cantrell there dressed in combat fatigues, at least until a battle stations alarm was called. After that everyone went into environmental suits.

***

"Air cover from a starship? That's a new one," Platoon Sergeant Martinez noted. Ordinarily the marines sent out with military starships were more of a contingency force for unexpected circumstances on planets already settled or to protect scientific staffs exploring worlds just discovered. "Don't think I've ever heard of supporting troops on the ground like that." Martinez, Sun Lee and Jeeta Suharto, the three platoon sergeants of A Company, were in the senior NCO dayroom discussing forthcoming possibilities of a big fight. A very big one. The platoon sergeants of B Company and Headquarters were doing the same thing elsewhere. Once each had plans worked out they intended to combine the best aspects of all of them.

"You haven't heard of it," Sun Lee declared positively. "Look, let's bring the layout of a Worm city as we understand it now up on a simulator, then see if we think defensive and offensive operations using the ship will work as well as the officers say it will. I guess we'd better allow for the assault shuttles to be included as backup and for fine work, the real up close fire support."

Suharto rubbed his hand through his short black hair. It was beginning to be streaked with gray. "The Chink's right. It hasn't been done before. Hell, I don't think it's ever been put into a simulator, much less planned for. Starships are for fighting in space, if they fight at all."

"No time like the present to see how it works," Martinez said. "I'll start plugging in some data if one of you guys will make the coffee."

"I'll get it," Lee said. "Wogs can't make coffee worth a shit." He grinned at Suharto, displaying a shiny gold eyetooth.

"That's a woman's job," Suharto said dismissively.

"Better not let the XO hear you say that. You'll be a private in the ranks again."

"She won't hear me. Anyone want some jerky while we're playing games?"

"Bring me some," Martinez said without looking away from one of the monitors the dayroom was equipped with. It was a large, three dimensional screen with enough background built into the corresponding memory to make its graphics flow easily back and forth and to different views as he entered new data drawn from Mundahan's downloads to the simulator.

"Better put the heavy weapons platoon in there, Julio," Suharto said. "We may need them, too."

"If we fight, we'll need every fucking thing we got."

A half hour later they began running very basic assault patterns with the data, adding in air support from the ship, shuttles and heavy weapons in various combinations. It was indeed a new paradigm for the marines, and took a lot of concentration and correction of mistakes. Three hours later they were still at it when Lee glanced at his thumb.

"I admire dedication but I don't admire it enough to miss chow. Let's take a break. I need to talk to a couple of my sergeants, too."

"Same here," Martinez said. He saved their work and sent a backup copy to Eve, the ship's computer and to the marine battle computer in their section of the ship.

***

If I'm not mistaken, the interest is mutual. But what can we do about it? Not a damn thing, likely. Cindy Cantrell had been to the control room, but not often. She doubted that Captain Keane showed quite so much interest in just anyone who came into his realm as he had to her just then. Not that it helped. As courtesy demanded, she reported to the official watch officer, denoted by the unwinking red light above the console, which belonged to Keane himself.

"Commander Cantrell reporting."

"Sign in," Keane said, giving the standard reply. He also gave her a slight smile, the barest lift of his lips that no one would notice unless they were looking for it. Cindy was, but she had no idea that it was because of her unanticipated attire.

"Over here, Major Cantrell," June Mundahan beckoned from the newly activated alcove, one of the spares built into the ship just for such purposes.

Cindy went over to where the commander had scrounged an extra battle chair and moved it into the alcove. She sat and Mundahan began introducing her weapons to the marine. An hour later she felt as if she had gone through a seminar on how much power it was possible to cram into one starship.

"Commander, I knew Doc Travis had some heavy duty weapons, but this is beyond anything I was expecting."

June Mundahan gave her a bright smile. "The problem is knowing how and when to use them. We were lucky before because we were engaging a city that wasn't completely finished. In fact, it was barely begun. I have to wonder how much more effective the defenses of a fully functional city will be."

"Mmm." Cindy plucked at her tunic's collar. She had been in dress uniform only on formal occasions since embarking. "Well, the only way we'll know for sure is in combat. In the meantime, I guess we'd better start working up some scenarios for the simulator and see how they come out. I've got some that your NCOs devised that we can start with. I guess we'll have to assume that their defense center will be in the same location. Given that, I'll plug in some attack modes and let's see what happens if ..."

"Whew! Time for a break, I think," June said.

"I'm ready. Coffee?"

"Let's go to my stateroom."

The first thing Cindy noted was that Commanders had a much roomier living area than 'Majors'. June's bedroom was behind a closed door but the remaining area was double the size of her humble stateroom. After accepting the inevitable coffee Cindy wondered why Mundahan had brought her. There was coffee available in the control room and an alcove designed for short breaks.

"In case you're wondering, I invited you here so we could have some girl talk," Mundahan said, as if reading her mind. "I'm June while we're in here, by the way."

Cindy raised her brows and nodded. "Alright, June."

"I've noticed the way Captain Keane looks at you-and you at him."

"I ...I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"

"No ...not yet, and I doubt you could so long as you're not in direct line of command. It's just appearances that the Captain worries about. Unnecessarily, I think. After all, it's no secret his girl friend found someone else while he was out last time and he got this assignment almost immediately afterward. I'm reasonably certain he's not um, involved again yet."

She's trying to tell me something, Cindy thought. "What are you saying, June?"

"Just don't be scared of him. He's a man, like any other. And we're a long way from home." She shrugged and smiled winsomely, as if she wouldn't mind the Captain looking at her in a certain way if only regulations didn't forbid it.

"What am I supposed to do, trip him in a passageway?"

June giggled like a little girl. It made her look much younger. "I probably wouldn't advise that, but ...if opportunity presents itself, I'd say grab it. He's really a pretty decent guy beneath all that formality."

The two talked about life aboard the ship and relaxed for long enough to finish their coffee. After another session in the control room, both decided a four hour rest would sharpen the mind and allow Cindy to absorb the ship's weapon specs in private. When Cindy got back to her stateroom it gave her a lot to think about that night, tired as she was from working with the simulator and computers all afternoon and evening.

If opportunity presents. Sure. When they were only about four days from the next city. She could see where all her time was going to be spent, and if it was in the control room in the presence of Captain Trent Keane, it was also in the presence of a dozen other people. The good part was that she was already seeing the possibilities and limitations of air cover from the big ship. Most of its weapons were in the sledgehammer range, with the periphery of the areas of destruction well-nigh unpredictable. But there was no arguing with a pulsing barrage of plasma sweeping over an enemy concentration, or repeated rail gun strikes to dig out deep enemy concentrations.

Tomorrow she intended to run some simulations with the rail guns, using recordings made from their last use as a guide. They would probably be better for precise work. But how precise? Maybe, she thought dreamily before finally falling asleep, she could think of a question to pose for Keane, and get him in range of her perfume.

***

"That's about the best we can hope for, sir," Cindy said to her CO the day before reaching the next system. She had shown him all the projections and a summary of all the simulations she and June had worked up.

"It's better than I expected, if not quite as good as I hoped," Rambling said. "Good job, Cindy." He turned his office screen off for the moment. "I hope you see now why I want you in the control room with Commander Mundahan and Captain Keane if the shit hits the fan, as I kind expect it to do."

"You do?"

"Yes. Just remember how the Worms acted the last time, and what their former captives have told us." He couldn't quite bring himself to call them slaves.

"That would be hard to forget. Sir, I think we'll be okay if the ship is actually able to provide air cover for us. What bothers me is what might happen if it goes down after we're already committed."

"That's an easy one. If we see we're going to be overwhelmed, we'll head for the jungles and wait for the Santa Cruz to bring help."

Chapter Fifteen: Worm Soup

Human beings are under the control of a strange force that bends them in absurd ways, forcing them to play a role in a bizarre game of deception.

- Dr. Jacques Vallee, Messengers of Deception

"The city here is finished, or near enough that I can't tell the difference from this far out," Commander Manheimer announced after the first visual report came in from the astronomy department.

"Does it look any different from the old images of Xanadu?" Keane asked from his position in the control room.

"We're still too far away to see that kind of detail, sir. Give us another few hours."

"Com, go ahead and send the contact protocols, just in case this place is different. Set up a loop and have an auto-interrupt if and when we get any sort of reply."

"Aye, aye, sir," Bogarty said and began the pre-recorded routine after adding a series of commands designed to alert them if a reply came.

"Helm, steer a direct course toward the planet with a geosynchronous orbit insert on standby, but bring us in slowly. "

"Aye, aye, sir," CPO O'Neal said from the helm. He was wearing a satisfied grin because he had control while Lt. Chavez was assisting Manheimer with the continuous updates from astronomy.

"XO, check with the marines and pass on what we have so far. And I suppose we need to get Major Cantrell up here and ready. I know we're several hours away from any possible action but I want her to go over our battle station routine once more before we come into range. Remind her to bring her environmental suit, too."

"Yes, sir," Dunaway replied. "When do you want us to go to battle stations?"

"Let's hold off for a little while yet. We don't know how long we'll be in a holding pattern, if at all. No sense in getting everyone tired. Including us. In fact, I'm going to take a short nap. Call me in an hour or before then if anything comes up."

Keane didn't think he really needed any sleep but he wanted to act as calm as possible. Taking a nap, if he could sleep, would serve that purpose admirably.

***

Lt. Fred Jergens stood in one of the Doc Travis Engineering work rooms and brushed his hands through his recently shortened black hair while wondering how long it would take to grow back. Finally, he and Harriette were both available and had no other urgent tasks facing them. All the way to Beta Planet, one or the other had been called on to solve military problems, like wiring and connecting the new control room station and integrating it into the portion of Eve's CPU that handled battle tasks. Or delving into the mechanisms of the hand weapons used by both the Worms and robots. Captain Keane hadn't tagged working on the robots with any kind of priority so they were just now getting to them, almost at the same time the ship and its marines were preparing for combat again.

Jergens looked at her and tugged at his drastically shortened hair. "When I asked Captain Keane why we had to wear short hair he gave me a number of reasons. One was so an enemy couldn't grab a ponytail while fighting you. I didn't tell him, but if anyone is depending on me doing hand to hand combat, we'll all end up as Worm soup." Jergens wiggled his hands like worms, and tried to make a monster face.

Harriette smiled, familiar with Jergens's theatrics. "Well Fred, personally, I think your hair looks better a little shorter."

"Really?"

"Yes, but I think we should focus on examining the robots, don't you?"

"Uh huh. Guess so." Jergens was beginning to like Harriette even though she was in her late twenties and he was about ten years older. Jergens hadn't had too many girlfriends since he finished his two master's degrees five years ago, one in Electrical Engineering and the other in Quantum Physics. As a matter of fact, when Jergens came to think about it, he hadn't had much more than a coffee date in the last five years. He didn't count a few casual hookups of one night. He did have a Japanese sex gaming toy he bought before shipping out, but that was a far cry from a real live girlfriend. "Harriette, let's pull out one of the robots and see what makes them tick."

"Which type?" The robots brought to the ship were of two different sizes and presumably had different functions. The larger one, shaped somewhat like a small passenger car, was equipped with six appendages. They were arranged four in front and two in the rear, given that the "front" and "rear" terms were applicable. The raised part, comparable to where passengers were seated in a car, had a small round dome atop it, common to all the robots. The domes had been diagnosed as sophisticated com units. The area below it was open in one section and had been partially filled with power packs and the hand weapons which both the Worms and robots used. They had been removed to one of the science labs for study. The rest of the area was closed but had what were obviously hatches on both sides and the top, designed for access to its innards. The smaller version was shaped and arranged somewhat similar but had eight appendages rather than six. Both traveled on treads made of what, for a better term, consisted of elasticized metal.

"The smaller ones appeared to be more active during the fighting, so I was told. Let's try one of them first." Jergens went over to switchboard where he had created a file for recording results within his personal computer space. He brought up another window and hit a few keys. "Although this is a shielded room, I want to run a test before taking our tin men out of their metal coffins. Let's make damn sure no strong electronic signals can get out of this room."

"We better have at least a hundred dB reduction."

Jergens looked at a spectrum analyzer screen. "We have over one-forty, I think we're good."

Jergens typed in some codes and accessed the robot labeled X1. A metal door opened, giving access to the robots. All four were strapped to dollies for ease of movement. Even though they didn't weigh as much as it seemed they should, it did take some effort to move them around. He selected the one he wanted and pushed it out into the room and under the overhead light, leaving the door open. It was a broken robot with half its treads shot away and one end crumpled, looking like a metallic patient tied to a very low gurney. Computer screens and monitoring equipment surrounded it via overhead spring-like arms.

Harriette pulled down a miniature, but powerful, magnetic resonance imaging scanner. It used new mathematical algorithms discovered by her DARPA friends to extrapolate internal imaging a hundred times faster than the older technologies. Given that a metallic robot couldn't be injected with various radioactive dyes to provide enhanced imaging, she and Jergens had devised secondary magnets of varying intensity and modulation to complement the primary one. They were still joking over possible patents for the apparatus. She started the scan at the closed "passenger" area where a preliminary but brief examination had identified it as the robot's CPU. MRI scans on humans take time, but this particular setup allowed her to follow the imaging as it took place. A short ten minutes later she uttered a pithy exclamation then said "Look at this-it makes no sense at all!"

"Holy shit," said Jergens. "That's shouldn't be possible!"

The words were no more out of his mouth than banging, crashing noises began coming from behind them where the other robots were strapped to dollies. He turned and his mouth fell open, gaping like a fresh hooked tuna.

"They're trying to break loose!" Harriette screamed. She rushed to close the hatch. Jergens broke from his startled amazement and ran to help. They barely made it. By the time he and Harriette got it shut and he was dogging the lock, the two unhurt robots had broken free of their straps and were beating at the hatch, trying to break it down.

"Whew!" Jergens blew out a breath. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Harriette said, "but we've got to go tell the Captain about this!"

"We'd better get engineering down here first with some explosives and weapons in case they manage to break out."

"I don't see how they could, but it damn sure wouldn't hurt, Fred!"

***

"You said this was urgent, Lieutenant, but make it quick. We've got a battle to fight."

"Yes, sir. Captain, we just discovered some odd readings regarding the smaller class of robots found on Sleepy," Jergens said.

"Really? What?"

"Well, first off when we were imaging what we believe to be the CPU, we found that its design is different than our computers. It uses three states for its logic code rather than the two binary states we use for our computers. It's called ternary computing, and it's in its early stages on Earth-but it's very powerful. The robot CPU somehow manages this with molecular circuitry which is much finer and more compact than ours, enabling it to perform far more elaborate and intricate tasking. That's not too important but during the imaging it also appeared to be trying to connect to a central command module. There was some kind of hierarchy code as if it and other robots of its type were subservient to a controlling entity of some sort. At the same time it appeared to be seeking any secondary source of data. We think."

"You're a little beyond my knowledge base here. Tell me what it means in practical terms.

"For one thing, I'd be hesitant about using Eve to explore its CPU," Harriette said.

"Why?"

"Because while we were doing the MRI and discovered those signals, the other robots in the next room began going berserk." Seeing the alarmed expression on the Captain's face, he hurried to calm him. "Don't worry, sir. We've got them well-secured and we also called Engineering and told the officer what had happened. He sent some marines with explosives and weapons to watch the closed room, just in case."

"That was smart thinking. Listen, I-"

"Captain!"

"What now? Who-" And then he recognized the man who had burst into the control room as one of the biologists. "Doctor Bergins? What's wrong?"

"The Worms we were holding for questioning suddenly went berserk while we were examining them! They killed one of my assistants and hurt two others. We had to destroy them."

Keane frowned. He didn't notice Jergens and Harriette doing the same. "What time did it happen?"

The doctor looked at his thumb. "About twenty minutes ago."

Jergens spoke up before the Captain could ask. "That's when the robots began sending those odd signals, sir. But the events couldn't be connected. We were in a shielded room!"

"Fred." Harriette said in a very low, contrite voice.

"Huh?"

"We left the door open to the room where the other robots were secured. It wasn't completely shielded."

"Oh. Sorry Captain. It was my damned error." Jergens countenance was even more subdued than Harriette's.

"Everything is safe now?"

"Absolutely, Captain!" Jergens said. "But before we go any further we need to compartmentalize the robot that signaled, just to be damned certain it can't interface with Eve. I don't think I have to tell you what that could mean."

"No, you don't. Maintain all necessary safety precautions. If you get to the point you have to use an interface, isolate one of Eve's backups and use it. Just make damn certain it's cut off from all other connections!"

"Understood, Captain," both said at once.

"Fine. We'll talk later. Dismissed."

***

On hanger deck, a full company of marines were being loaded into two of the assault shuttles. Technicians busied themselves around the shuttles as they loaded, and also around the other two backup shuttles, making sure they were ready if needed.

"And here we go again," Bullet said, hiding his nervousness from everyone except Barbara. She winked at him, knowing he was feeling the same butterflies that were tickling her insides. A few minutes before, their Platoon Sergeant had relayed the news that they might face the armed might of a fully completed city.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Nope. Just wondering if we have enough ammo."

"Don't worry. Good ol' Doc Travis will make up for any short fall."

"And a good dose of heavy metal from the rail guns will make any Worm say 'calf rope'."

"Say what?"

"Calf Rope. You never heard of that?"

"No," Barbara admitted, wondering if Dan was playing with her to work off a case of nerves.

"Old western saying. It means 'do you give up'?"

"Okay. Just so long as they know what it means."

"Less chatter there. Keep moving," Sgt. Martinez broke in.

Both turned to stare at the back of the neck of the marine in front of them as they moved into the bowels of the shuttle.

***

"Major Cantrell reporting," Cindy announced.

"Sign in," Keane said. "Commander Mundahan is waiting on you." He followed the words with a smile to tell her she wasn't late.

She logged in and hurried over to the weapons alcove. Mundahan already had a screen activated and ready for her. It was zeroed in on the alien city, still thousands of kilometers away. The planet's rotation was slowly, to appearances, moving the city toward one edge of the view. It didn't bother her. She knew that Keane would have the ship following the city, not the planet, even if it meant using extra power.

Keane gazed intently at a visual of the Beta system alien metropolis. The image was much crisper than the earlier renditions. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but doesn't this city look different than the old images of Xanadu?" He raised an inquiring brow at his officers.

"Yes it does Captain. The city, although basically the same overall size, has fewer spires and domes, but more of the cube-shaped buildings. None of the images of Xanadu were taken from close enough to show the inhabitants so we can't make that kind of comparison, and we're not close enough anyway," Commander Mundahan said.

"Is it finished, and do you see any of those pulsar weapons?" asked Keane.

"This city appears to be finished, or near enough that I can't tell the difference from here. I don't see any weapons though, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. We can't pick up much detail."

"Anything going on yet?" Cindy asked.

"Nothing yet. We've detected mining operations, same as last time but more extensive. There are about the same number of mining transport ships but they're all grounded so far as we can tell. We've still got a contact protocol going out in a repeating pattern. It doesn't seem as if the Worms are listening, though."

Keane ordered the ship to get in closer and maintain an orbit that kept the city in view, altering speed to maintain their position. As time progressed and they closed in, Keane felt tension beginning to mount, slowly at first, but as no reply came to the contact protocol, or any indication that the Worms were even paying attention, it rose more quickly. As the Doc Travis used its gravity drive to maintain position over the city, he made sure that it was offset by forty-five degrees from the city's center, slightly touching the planet's outer atmosphere, about eight hundred kilometers up. He remembered how the energy beam had come from the heart of the unfinished city near the agricultural area and wanted no part of that experience again. However, he couldn't hold the ship in that position forever. A decision would have to be made soon. He decided on a reconnaissance in force, using the two marine shuttles already loaded and having one of them enter the city's edge while the other kept position farther back in order to give support if the first was fired on.

"Just maintain a good escape route, Steel," he told the Marine commander over the com. "If you have to break off, try for a good separation so we can help you."

"Will do, sir," Rambling replied in a voice that sounded somewhat testy. Keane guessed it was from him giving a ground officer instruction on how to deploy his troops. It didn't bother him. He wanted to be absolutely certain they were on the same page and that took priority over any possible hurt feelings.

A few minutes later the ship shook twice from the launch of the assault shuttles. As soon as they were free, Keane ordered the ship down to a lower altitude, lowering it cautiously and staying well clear of the estimated range of the Worm energy beam as calculated from the previous encounter. It seemed to work because the ship was left alone, at least for the present.

***

"Alright, you've got your assignments," Sgt. Martinez said to his 1st platoon. "We're going in immediately behind the 2nd Platoon. Third and Headquarters and weapons will be right behind us in the covering shuttle. Third is in reserve and will remain on the shuttle until needed."

Martinez put a stimstick into his mouth and chewed, savoring the slight adrenaline rush. "We're landing right on the edge of the city wall, which isn't much of a barrier-unless you're a midget." He paused for the inevitable chuckles. "It's only a meter and a half high everywhere. No need for explosives to make a hole. We'll just go right over it. Once deployed we follow the second, which will be headed toward the center of the city, half on the main drag and the other half flanking. We'll follow the same pattern. This is a reconnaissance in force, designed to find out what the hell gives with the fucking Worms.

"Now for all you trigger happy boys and girls, there will be no shooting unless and until you're fired on. We're still hoping we can get in, find the human captives and rescue them then get out. Anything beyond that is up to the CO and the Ship Captain.

"Tighten up your harnesses. We'll be down in three minutes." Martinez knew he didn't have to give instructions all over again but it never hurt. Personally, after seeing and talking to the poor bastards who had been used as slaves for so long, he sort of hoped the Worms resisted, no matter how fucking many of them there were.

***

"Marines are landed and near the city's perimeter, three clicks out, sir. There was a scattering of defensive fire as the shuttles were landing but no casualties," Cindy reported. She had a com directly to the marine commander on the ground and to each of the platoons of both companies. She was relaying information from the marines to Keane. "Every Worm sighted outside the city has run. No word yet on whether they're congregating to fight or just scared.

"Some of them appear to be going underground. Echolocation indicates tunnels extending all the way out to edge of the city. Closer to the center they're so deep we can't properly range them." Her countenance took on the blank look of someone listening to an ear bug for a moment then she continued. "Major Rambling has halted for the time being in order to send recon teams in and situate snipers to protect them. He thinks there's more Worms here than the last place."

***

Zembra found herself a perfect sniper's spot, halfway up a many-trunked tree in a position where they broke into even more branches. There she found a little alcove with a great place to rest her heavy rifle, yet pretty well concealed and with a good view into the city. Hell, she thought she might even be outside the range of the Worm hand weapons, although the ones used by the robots were a bit heavier and presumably were effective farther out. At any rate, she couldn't beat the spot. Easy way down, too, if the situation turned to shit and she had to run.

She adjusted her position slightly for comfort and waited, patiently, as all snipers did. She followed the two recon teams with wide scan binoculars while frequently flipping back to center her rifle's scope on the area in front of each. It took practice but she'd trained in simulated urban combat, on the range, and had many hours of simulated fights behind her, as well as the combat on the last planet inhabited by Worms and robots. She felt no tenseness, only a slight bit of excitement. Presently she saw, well ahead of the teams, a steady stream of Worms emerging from the bowels of one of the dome buildings. Robots were mixed with them. Her finger curled around the trigger of her rifle but she waited. No order to fire on them had been given yet although she knew the recon teams must know they were there.

***

"Get ready, June," Cindy said quietly to the weapons officer. "I think you're going to be needed soon. Coordinates E-7 and E-8."

"Got it. What will you need?"

"One shot with the plasma cannon to begin with. But wait. Major Rambling is trying to get his recon teams back, first."

***

"Jones and Callahan, hold the point. Recon teams, back up, quick," Martinez ordered. Having the ship spotting for the marines was working out well so far. They might have been caught in the ambush the Worms were planning if it hadn't been for them. He keyed in another circuit. "Snipers. I want both of you to concentrate on the small robots. Aim for their com dome on top first and if they continue fighting, go for what would be passenger seats as if they were minicars. Two minutes and open fire. Mark." It was a simple hunch telling them to go for the small robots. During the last combat, reports had it that they were the ones which appeared to be organizing the attacks. The CPU location and com domes had been a last minute bit of intelligence, forwarded right before debarkation. He hoped it was right.

Zembra automatically clicked in the time on the stock of her rifle and zeroed in on the leading robot on the right. PFC Zambi would take the left, by arrangement. She knew what Martinez was thinking. Sniper fire might disorient the Worms when they couldn't see where it was coming from. Two minutes later she gently squeezed the trigger.

The heavy .50 caliber hollow point slug hit precisely where she aimed. Debris exploded out from the robot. It staggered, turned in a half circle then wobbled off in that direction. She didn't see where it went-she was already drawing a bead on the next one. And the next, firing in metronomic precision.

As if her first shot was a signal, Worms began boiling out of adjacent buildings. They appeared disorganized but the general movement was toward the encroaching marines. The weapons squad entered the battle next, using their heavy machine guns to cut swaths of gory death into the front ranks of the Worms. The MGs allowed one of the point marines to reach safety. The other took a bolt of plasma in the back and fell in a flaming heap.

***

"Now, June! E-7 only. One shot!" Cindy ordered.

All Mundahan had to do was lift the cover and punch the red tab on her console. The plasma cannon computer had been running a constant update on the original parameters given it.

The single pulse was barely noticeable in the ship, but below in the city it was different. The ball of plasma hit precisely in the center of the Worm formation. It spread a fiery orange-white ball of destruction over the worms, vaporizing most of them instantly. The ones not killed outright scurried in all directions, bodies smoking, skin peeling loose. A few on the periphery of the blast escaped and came on. They were quickly dispatched by marine rifles.

"First platoon right, second platoon left. Move it, and careful of hot stuff," Lieutenant Bruno Horst, CO of A Company, ordered. He worked the marine platoons around the center of destruction and further into the city, moving cautiously. If that many Worms had erupted from one small area, God only knew how many more they'd run into. And to free any captives they'd probably have to engage the Worms and robots in the tunnels beneath the city. He hated to think of the casualties that might cause.

***

Zembra finally had to climb down from her perch. The fighting had moved farther into the city, beyond her viewpoint. She and PFC Zambi, the other sniper, hurried to catch up and join the heavy weapons platoon, their alternate assignment. No sooner had she joined them than she was put to work as the assistant on one of the heavy MGs. She replaced a marine that had just lost a leg to an energy bolt. For the next two hours she hauled and crawled, and fed belts of ammo to the gunner, stopping only to use her heavy rifle occasionally. The marines advanced slowly toward the center of the city.

***

"The Worms are concentrating for another charge, June. We need a pulse at ...G5.5 in forty five seconds. Mark."

"Got it. Damn, that's going to bring us in close. Captain Keane?"

"Do it," he responded without hesitation.

June gave the order to the plasma cannon. At this point the ship's movements were controlled by her through orders to the gun, while several ratings and petty officers watched the dials and gauges in the cannon housing farther toward the bow. The ship moved closer to the city. The angle from its target dropped to near fifty-five degrees. She waited, practically holding her breath until she felt the slight shudder as the shot went home. A sharp vibration shook the ship as the city's gun fired almost simultaneously. Also near simultaneously, the ship fired back. Doc Travis plowed through a boil of energy with its shield intact but it had taken a good hit.

"Status?" Keane asked, averting his eyes from the screens. They were a white blur from the surrounding energy.

"We got their gun but I'm damn glad we worked out those auto respond algorithms in advance. I wouldn't want us to take many hits like that in succession."

"Well done," he said as the screens came back up. "Com, ask Rambling to have the marines take a look if they can and find out if that was their only gun."

"Aye, aye, sir," Bogarty responded promptly.

***

Rambling was thankful for the air cover. Used judiciously, it cleared a path for his troops and kept casualties to a minimum. The only drawback was that the ship had to shoot from an angle and from a higher orbit than needed for really accurate fire support, but he knew it was the only way to keep the ship safe. Already the air and space defenses had been located near the center of the city, right at the "northern" edge of the central crop growing area. It had happened when the Doc Travis got a little too close trying to help them out, and whatever was in control of the city's pulsing laser cannon tried a shot. He thought it had damaged the ship until Bogarty got through the static to him.

"Captain Keane wants the area he just hit checked when you get a chance, sir."

"Tell him I will but it'll be a bit. We've still got troubles."

***

Bullet had begun to think the hard fighting was about over. There had been a couple of close calls but nothing like the previous campaign, when he'd taken that bolt of energy to his side. The platoon had just cleared out the area assigned to them, leaving dead Worms and mangled robots strewn in the streets. During the process, a number of ragged captives had emerged from the entrances to buildings as they passed. One pair of them, a woman and unshaven man who looked to be in his middle forties, came running out after Bullet had shot what was apparently the last defending Worm. He almost pulled the trigger on them but held back at the last instant. The couple was clad in ill-fitting remnants of Wannstead corporate blue, and both were dazed and overpoweringly happy to see the marines.

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" He laughed as they wrapped their arms around him in a hug that would have done justice to a boa constrictor. "Hey, I'm happy to see you too, but we still got a fight going on." He gently pried them loose and passed them to the medics. Not long afterward the whole platoon got an order to hold up.

Bullet went down on one knee to rest while waiting to see what was going on. The news came very shortly over the platoon com.

"Listen up! We got masses of Worms forming up for a charge on the other side of the ruins of the strike by Doc Travis. Form defensive positions immediately. Heavy weapons platoon bear left. Second platoon will hit them from the other side and try driving them into us. Estimated contact with the first body of Worms is less than ten minutes but we're calling in air strikes first. Dig in quick. The old man is sending in the coordinates now."

***

"Fire as required, Major," said Keane, hoping prisoners were not included near the Worms, or beneath the area where they were firing. He could wish they were farther away from where the city's air defense had been. It was going to take another beating, and there probably wouldn't be much left of it but rubble after both the plasma cannon and rail guns scoured the area.

Cindy received the codes and loosed the plasma pulses. As soon as the smoke and flames partially cleared she received new coordinates for the rail guns. The ship shook and shuttered as they cut loose in turn.

***

"Look at these stupid fucks, they call this a war? It's a goddamn massacre." Bullet kicked the head of a steaming Worm, about all that was left of it. They were moving through the smoking ruins, mopping up. There was little resistance.

Sal Salvino pulled a cigar out of his front shirt pocket. He had two large flame thrower tanks strapped to his back and had been using the flames to destroy pockets of resistance. He delicately used the torch's pilot light to fire up his cigar. "It's more like a Jersey Shore barbeque," he said, taking a long drag of the American grown Cohiba.

Bullet looked at the tape across the middle of Sal's face. "What, you got tired of wrestling 'em with your nose? So you decided to cook 'em instead?"

"Funny, Bullet. You try hog-tying one of these fucking critters and see if you can keep your ugly face pretty."

"Hell with that, I got hit with one of their slug shots and it almost busted my insides out on that last planet. Shooting the bastards suits me fine." Bullet held his marine issue X600 tight. It was locked and loaded, and set for max rounds per sec. The marines called it meat grinder mode.

"Wonder why so many decided to fight here?" asked Sal exhaling a plume of bluish smoke.

Platoon Sergeant Martinez overhead the conversation. "Didn't you guys listen to your com? Second platoon was attacking them from behind. The Major called for the rail gun after thinning them out with plasma bursts and we were the blocking force." He looked disgustedly at Bullet for not remembering. "You can rest easy, though. We did have orders to go down and explore the tunnels under this area, but they just got cancelled."

Bullet could see why. There wasn't much left of it but a big smoking hole in the ground. He was just as glad. Company B was underground now, so he'd heard from scuttlebutt. They were looking for any other humans. He doubted they'd find any if it was comparable to the section of city that A Company had been through. All the captives had been living above ground and had been simply left in place when their Worm and robot masters left to fight. It had been no problem at all to rescue them. Usually it was just a matter of fending off their embraces and funneling them on back to the medics.

Bullet gazed around one more time at the desolation. "Are we heading back to the shuttles?"

"Don't get excited just yet. They want us to capture a few Worms to take back for more questioning."

Sal shook his head, not wanting to wrestle another alien. His nose still hurt from similar work. He cursed under his breath.

Bullet scanned the surrounding area. All around him were nothing but dead Worms. "I think we killed all of them, Sergeant. I didn't hear we had to take any alive. Shit, I know Sal would've loved to wrestle another, but what we got here is a fucking morgue."

Sal raised his eyebrows at Bullet and wanted to say something but instead took another drag off his cigar.

Sergeant Martinez started to walk up the thoroughfare they were on. "We'll find some. Follow me; I have the rest of our platoon a couple of streets over waiting for orders. We can get a few more men and go into the tunnels we passed. Maybe that flame thrower can convince a few to come outside."

"Tunnels where we passed?"

"I swear, I'm going to turn your com on as high as the volume will go then paste it to your ear. That bit of intelligence came in a good hour ago. This city is honeycombed with tunnels beneath it, not just in this area." The sergeant stared at the synthetic material at his feet for a moment as if he were looking through it and to the hidden part of the city beneath.

Sal followed Sergeant Martinez and Bullet, wishing he didn't stand out so much. Sal had won the heavyweight state wrestling championships a few years back in New Jersey before joining the Space Marines. He almost didn't make it because of his weight, two hundred and sixty five pounds of mostly muscle. Being six four and solid like a rock, people would assume that no-one would fuck with you. Especially a marine. But as Sal knew, there was always some idiot trying to prove how tough he was to his friends-and Sal did have a few bar fights, and even a few close ones, but he usually knocked the shit out anyone in less than thirty seconds. But the Worms not only outweighed him by a hundred pounds, they were strong enough to make wrestling with one feel like bulldogging a mean-natured ox.

Chapter Sixteen: Robots Fight!

I wish a robot would get elected president. That way, when he came to town, we could all take a shot at him and not feel too bad.

Jack Handy quote- Saturday Night Live

"Captain Keane, I have Major Rambling on the sec-com, he wants to talk to you," Cindy said. She was still manning the marine air cover from the Doc Travis. The trouble on planet Beta seemed to be calming down, and without any real attack on the Doc Travis, it had been a slaughter down below. The strategy by Rambling was brilliant. He easily wiped out half the Worms with his squeeze maneuver during the last big battle. The Doc Travis plasma blasts and accurate rail gun fire did the rest. What concerned Rambling and Cindy was how quickly the Worms reacted defensively. Apparently half of them quickly went underground then came up somewhere else. There was nothing on the Doc Travis weapons arsenal suitable for deep bunker blasting. If the Worms used the same tactics at Xanadu, the marines would have to go into the tunnels after them.

"I don't like it sir," Rambling said, speaking from a tent on the outskirts of the city. "The Worms reacted much quicker than last time. The ones we fought in small teams were twice as clever as the last ones we fought and they seemed more organized. If they hadn't massed together, and the ship's fire support hadn't been so effective, we'd have had one hell of a fight on our hands. Having Cindy up there saved our asses from a lot more casualties."

"It was your plan Steel, and I think it was smart. Great job."

"I appreciate the compliment sir, but I'd rather celebrate later. The bastards that slipped though the choke point fought twice as hard as last ones we tangled with. We have some dead marines and had to use flamethrowers to burn them out of some ambush sites."

Keane thought about it for a moment. "Why do you think they fought better?"

"Not really sure, sir. Possibly a stealthed courier ship left the other occupied planet and ferried news of how we or maybe the Chinese fight. And they seemed to have some kind of battle communication going on and we couldn't jam it. Also, there were more of the smaller robots and they appeared to be organizing both the larger robots and the Worms. That's just an impression, mind you, but that's what it looked like. I've also got some good news and some bad news."

"Give me the bad news first and let's get it out of the way."

"A couple of the captives we rescued are saying the real control point for the city both here and in Xanadu sits directly beneath the air/space defenses, way down deep in just the place you wanted us to examine. It's supposedly a big computer of some sort. Even if it's not already destroyed it would take us weeks to dig down to it. They also said they thought some of their fellow captives were taken down there and never came back. That's not confirmed, though. It's more like hearsay evidence since the only one who knew about it was killed in the fighting."

"Shit. Okay, give me the good news."

"We got most of the captives back. The vast majority of them were living at ground level as slaves for various Worm family groups. Welshass', they're called. They just hunkered down and came out after we killed their masters."

"Great. Now let me ask you a question. Do you think you've accounted for all, or mostly all, of the Worms and robots?"

"I doubt it, sir. There's just too much territory for two companies of marines to cover and that's not even counting most of the underground tunnel system. From what the captives are telling us it's just a huge warren down there."

"Hold on a sec, Steel. I want to talk to Commander Mundahan and Lieutenant Chavez. I'll cut you into the circuit so you can follow our conversation."

Keane turned first to Lieutenant Chavez. "What's the status at the city, Anita? We've passed directly over it at low altitude twice now since the fighting died down. Is it still populated with Worms or robots anywhere that's evident?"

"I can't say, sir. There are a few Worms and robots wandering around topside but the echolocation resolution isn't good enough for that kind of detail below ground. All I can tell you is that while the tunnel system below our rail gun strikes has collapsed, there are plenty more of them."

"What about other weapons, any kind of EMI like that we took out?"

"Captain Keane, although this city may look completed, we found spheres and triangular buildings being built at the perimeter. We don't know if there's anything else. They could have some more weapons that are concealed."

"Thanks," said Keane. "I don't think we want to stick around here much longer but I do have one more job for you. I'm going to send down the reserve shuttle with a special weapon and a crew to place it. Your job will to make certain they're not observed while doing so, to the best of your ability." He looked in Mundahan's direction. "Cindy, you heard. I think a lot of the Worms and robots may still be holding out. I'm going to send you and some of your weapons techs down with a plasma bomb. Set its controls so that it can be triggered from space. If we see signs of rebuilding when we return, if we come back this way, we may want to simply destroy the place. Major Rambling will see to your security." He gave her a small smile. "And I'd like you to get started on that now."

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it." She hurried out of the control room.

"Now then, Commander Levy. You said something about more shield modifications?"

"Yes, sir. Now that the fighting appears to be over, I'd like to get started. It's going to be a lot of work even though we have the preliminary programs ready for installation." He also departed the control room.

***

While Keane kept his com open for reports on the planetary situation, and progress in situating and programming the plasma bomb, one of the largest they'd had on board, Jergens and Harriette arrived to give the Captain a brief on the upgrading of Doc Travis' shield.

"We haven't tested the changes yet," Juenne said, "but we were able to get into the backup flux containment field generator, thanks to Lieutenant Wannstead. He seemed keen on helping once he realized how close we were to getting blown out of the sky at our last encounter."

"I'm sure he was," said Keane dryly.

"We were able to tune the Quantum drive to any incoming energy beams for auto targeting, but we had problems with doubling the shielding," added Jergens. "It's about one point eight, a lot more than I thought possible-the extra hidden generator helped."

"Yes, it helped in that we probably won't explode when we turn it on full," Harriette said. "This should work, but it was a rushed job."

Keane smiled. It was amazing what people can do when they attempt the impossible he thought. The engineers were attempting a twenty per cent gain and his persistence yielded another sixty on top of that. But would it be enough?

Keane looked at an engineering holo of the shield generator stats. "Great job team. And if you want a test, we have a live simulation coming up. I want the shields up to the new max and the new auto targeting set. We're going to move over the city again and I want to be ready just in case the marines missed something. This will be a good test before we get to Xanadu. Oh, and I'd like that up within the next thirty minutes. I don't want any surprises this late in the game. And one other thing before you go. How are you coming with those robots that went crazy?"

"They settled down after it was plain they couldn't get out of the room we have them locked in. There are no electronic noises of any kind coming from it. The only one that's outside is completely disabled so far as movement goes, but we have it tied down anyway. Now that the shield for the ship is finished we're ready to try finding out what happened."

"Work with Dr. Bergins. The Worms went berserk at the same time, you know."

"Yes, sir," Jergens said, embarrassed that he hadn't thought to include the medics.

The news was fascinating, but Keane wanted to move on to the city and Rambling was waiting. "Well, continue your studies on the robots, and brief me later. For now, I want the shield up to max, and the auto-targeting set. We're moving the Doc Travis over the city again to support Major Rambling while he's wrapping up operations. Any questions?"

"No sir," said Harriette.

"We should be able to have the magnetospheric shield up to its new full power within the next thirty minutes sir. I'll call down to weapons when finished," Jergens said.

"Good, I'll head back to command and have the astrogator set our new course."

Captain Keane watched them as they headed from the control room and back toward the engineering department, thinking about all the new things to be found in the universe. Was it reassuring or troubling that much of what he'd read in those old science fiction stories would turn up in the real world? Did the robots have a consciousness? Was their purpose in life just to build cities? Did they indeed have a hierarchy that they reported to? And if that was the case, were they capable of caring one way or another? The Doc Travis' massive computer, affectionately called Eve, was very nearly sentient. Many times it was hard to tell that she was not, and in fact at times it seemed she was much smarter than he would ever be. Hell, sometimes he felt like a slave. The years of study, the hard tedious work to make Captain, the sacrifices to his personal life.

As he walked back toward his day cabin for a short break, he saw Cindy Candrell, who had left earlier for an intermission to relieve some of the tension of combat. Seconds later he smelled her. She was wearing some kind of sweet perfume that tempted his senses. As she came nearer her breasts bounced slightly as if only minimally contained. She smiled while approaching then stopped in the crammed hallway close to him

"I'm going to the wardroom for lunch. Would you like to join me, sir?"

"I'd love to, but I need a quick break before we head back over the city. We'll need you standing by then. In fact, someone should be buzzing your com to tell you right about now."

While standing close together it seemed as if Cindy's eyes were lit by tiny fires. Her glossy chap stick reflected the luminosity of the passage lights, giving her lips a sultry glow. They looked very enticing. She looked very enticing. She said something to him that to his distracted mind sounded like: "Captain, you can mount on me. Just a quick bite and I'll be right on my back, sir."

Keane looked at Cindy, fumbling for words. "Ah ...I'm sorry? What did you say?"

She spoke louder. "I said you can count on me, I'm having a quick bite at the mess and I'll be right back, sir"

Keane frowned, knowing his subconscious mind was causing him trouble. He desperately needed some rest. His attraction to Cindy was growing, and he knew he had to be careful. He couldn't let his interest, and apparently hers too, jeopardize the mission.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you the first time. Enjoy your lunch but please get back quickly. Major Rambling may need your assistance."

"Will do, sir."

After a short, much needed nap, Keane headed back to duty. On the way thoughts of Cindy again intruded but quickly faded as he entered the control room.

***

Clemmie stood up from her bed as a fat brown Sinchik from the Stronge Welshass entered her sparse room.

" Human," said the alien with a heavy stuttering sound.

"Jah," replied Clemmie.

"Come with me to Vivjo, we will test," the Stronge said.

"Jah! I obey."

Test what? There had never been any tests before. But Clemmie dared not ask the question, for questions were what got you reprimanded. And with eight hands, you never knew which one would do the slapping. Sometimes you'd get slapped by two hands. Clemmie recalled when they first crashed how a cook questioned the taste of food rations. Or actually, asked why the food tasted like dog shit. He first got slapped with one hand. He then asked: Why do I get hit for asking questions? Two hands immediately slapped him a little harder. The final question the cook asked was whether the alien knew if his mother had mated with a retarded earthworm-which resulted in all the foremost hands beating him until he fell to the ground in a bloody heap, moaning in pain. The welts took two weeks to heal. Soon after, most folks realized that questions to Sinchiks were best not asked.

***

"We're in position, Captain" said Mundahan.

"Good, inform Rambling that his men can proceed with the bomb."

Keane sipped at fresh coffee while hoping that any fight while placing the bomb would be short lived. The four hours of sleep in the last twenty four were not enough. The XO could relieve him, but not just yet. Keane watched on a small holo screen as a relayed recording showed a squad of Rambling's men moving into one of the square edifices where they had located a wide ramp that led downward. So far things were quiet. The shuttles landed near some perimeter buildings but kept their engines idling.

"They discovered some Worms hiding at the perimeter, but they immediately went into caverns under the buildings," Cindy said.

Giving up so easily, doesn't make sense, Keane thought.

Rambling moved one of the shuttles and stopped next to a quiet looking perimeter building.

"Why'd he stop?" asked Keane.

Cindy was on the com. "Sir, Rambling wants to explore a couple of the structures on each side of the main thoroughfare. He doesn't want them coming up behind him while he's planting the bomb."

Keane nodded that he had heard. He wondered why the Worms were now avoiding conflict when they had earlier acted as if it was their favorite activity. It bothered him. He decided he wanted a look at the city and the route the marines were taking, but rather than activate another screen at his position he walked over to where Mundahan and Cantrell were busy.

"Worms are exiting a couple of caverns and they are running back toward the city center. They appear to be fleeing."

Mundahan had two screens active. One showed the city as a whole, with an icon blinking near the center where the defenses had been in the unfinished city. The other was a closer view, depicting the marine advance from the city's edge. A vector showed their progress down a wide passage that bisected the city but split around its central vegetated area. Keane stopped behind Cindy and casually laid his hand on her shoulder for a moment.

"I'm just going to stand here for a while and watch. Cindy, if the marines need air support, tell June. She'll arrange it according to what you call for."

"Yes, sir. There's no need yet. But ..." She cocked her head to one side as if listening. "Now the Worms have stopped running. Others are exiting the city caverns. Major Rambling says he thinks it's because he's outnumbered now."

"Are they firing on him?"

"Not ...yes, he reports small arms fire from their hand held energy guns. No attempt at communication. He's returning fire. Looks like the Worms seem to be assembling some type of heavy weapon. Wait, we've also got movement by some of the worker robots farther in. I see ...They're more pulsars. The robots are manning them!"

Shit! Keane thought.

Before he could say anything, the Doc Travis shook, almost seeming to buckle from a large plasma blast from the city. The auto return fire mechanism worked perfectly; within a second the Doc Travis cannon lasers blew a hole into the atmosphere and then two plasma blasts exited toward the planet. The first one met with another incoming plasma bolt that showered the Doc Travis with florescent colored fireworks, while the other shot down to the planet and erupted in boiling blaze of color. Bits of debris were visible within the rising clouds of flame and smoke.

"How are the shields holding?"

Harriette had come to the control room with Jergens to help monitor their improvements to the shield, while he concentrated on EW and defensive measures. She turned away from her holo and answered. "Sir, without the new shields we'd be dead. The weapon we just destroyed was almost twice as powerful as the one we saw on the other planet. The second blast was deflected with our counter measures, reducing its power. We couldn't have taken many more, though. It would have drained the secondary coils needed for containment."

Keane decided to get the ship out of range in case there was another concealed defensive site. The risk to the ship was too great.

"Lieutenant Chavez, take us to the other side of the planet. Com, contact Major Rambling. Tell him to set his bomb and withdraw, now. Give the shuttle pilots our coordinates and have them meet us in orbit. We're going to be leaving."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"XO, I think we'll be okay with the planet's plasma weapons destroyed, but I'm still concerned about Rambling. Can you take the bridge and give him whatever support he needs? I'm going to my cabin and think about a few things."

Dunaway looked at the dark circles under the captain's eyes. "Sir, you may want to consider thinking about them after some sleep, if you don't mind me saying."

"It's okay. I'll get some rest shortly. Let me know when Rambling has the bomb planted and his men are in the shuttles and on the way to join us."

"Aye, aye, sir."

***

Keane didn't want any distractions while he took a few minutes to analyze the whole situation and the many factors that were running through his mind. The unresolved actions of the robots and Worms on the ship bothered him but he wasn't certain why. He wanted to leave the plasma bomb concealed in the city when he left in case circumstances later dictated he destroy the place, yet he wondered whether it was wise to wait.

His wrist com tingled.

"Keane here."

"Captain, you wanted to be notified. Major Rambling has planted the bomb and is on the way to the ship."

"Thank you. Keane out."

One problem solved, at least for now. The latest city defense laser pulse had been a whopper, even if they had destroyed the source seconds later. But what if Xanadu had even stouter defenses? Would it be wiser to just return to Earth at this point? He already had a wealth of intelligence about the alien species. But was it enough? He really didn't think so. And the captives-he couldn't just leave knowing they were being held on Xanadu, could he? The fighting here had been different than on Sleepy. Would Xanadu in turn be different, more complex? Damn. Twice now he'd taken out the area where some of the captives thought nerve centers of the cities were buried. Was that true? And if so, did it matter? He had directed Doc Travis to the other side of the planet, completely out of danger. They were on the way now, with Rambling ready to meet them in orbit. What next?

It was no tingle this time. The screen in the day cabin brightened and dinged loudly. He looked up from his reverie. John Dunaway's stern face met his gaze.

"Captain, a small ship just lifted off from the city. It came from one of the areas we'd been over but didn't go beneath. It's fast, sir. Very fast."

"Track it and try to intercept. I'll be there in a moment."

His day cabin was just down the passageway from the Control room. A moment later and he was entering.

"Captain Present!" One of the enlisted ratings notified the room in a loud voice.

"At ease." He signed in and strode quickly over to Dunaway's station, right next to his. "Talk to me, John."

"Sir, I believe it must be a Worm courier ship or something in that class. It's headed out on a vector that could take it toward Xanadu."

"Can we intercept?"

" Eve is calculating now."

Keane felt a slight tremor in the ship. He looked over at the environmental console and saw both loading bays open. The shuttles were here.

The AI presented some numbers and vectors on the screen. "Interception is possible but only by overriding safety margin parameters of the drive and induced gravity field."

"How far past safety margins, Eve?" Keane asked.

" Doc Travis would be right at the limit, Captain," Eve replied, recognizing his voice. "I do not recommend except for extreme emergency. A decision in needed within one point three four minutes for intercept to be possible under those conditions."

Keane shook his head. "No. We won't risk the ship. We'll let it go. Helm, set course for Xanadu at all speed consistent with safety. June, I want that bomb Major Rambling placed detonated as soon as we're in line of sight."

"Aye, aye, sir," she replied without hesitation.

Every person present in the control room waited and watched as screens depicting the alien planet changed due to the ship's vector and the planet's rotation.

"Line of sight now, Captain."

"Go."

A brilliant white light obliterated the alien city. Whether the decision was right or wrong, Keane thought, at the very least that place is no longer a threat to humanity.

Chapter Seventeen: Smarter and Stronger

Satan came into the Garden and engaged Eve in conversation. "Didn't God say you could eat everything in the Garden?" Satan asked.

Eve replied, "Everything but the tree in the center of the Garden. We cannot eat or even touch it, lest we die."

"You'll not die," Satan scoffed, "God knows that if you eat it you shall become as gods knowing good and evil."-King James Bible

Doug walked back to his Wah, a three hour journey that gave him time to think about Clemmie and life on the God forsaken planet. It was the rainy season, and although the rain was sometimes hotter than one would like, the makeshift umbrella helped. The water did eventually cool on the body, which was better than the typical one hundred and ten degree days. The Sinchik didn't seem to mind the heat, and Doug swore that the planet was getting hotter each year. There were more and more fabrication sites with robots working day and night to change one part of the city or another. It never seemed to stop. When you thought it was complete, some other device under construction propped up. The latest resembled a Lego Land building designed by some devilish virus, he thought. Trying to figure out its purpose was just as hard, since questions were punished.

Doug walked through the middle of the city to cut down time. Normally he would go around the perimeter, as the plants and forest on the other side of the wall seemed more natural. Hot rain would hit large flowering pink and purple flowers nicknamed purple haze, producing a pleasant smell that attracted 'beebats', small yellow bat-like creatures with long beaks. But this time of the year, seeing the flowers reminded Doug of man's trap in life, for the beebats were trapped in a cycle that troubled Doug.

The enigma of the alien bats revolved around the question of why they seemed to abandon their children. The captives noticed this the first summer after the crash. It ended up being a quite simple answer. The yellow-colored bats, roughly the size of mice, would extract honey from the flowers for their children living in baby bat hives, similar to bee hives, except that the baby bats would live off the flower's honey since the parents would one day disappear and not be around to assist the children. One day Doug found out why.

Once the beebats had gotten enough honey for their children, and in turn had pollinated the purplehaze flowers, the flowers then ate the bats, similar to the Earth Venus Flytrap, capturing the little creature as food. This gave nourishment for the fertilized purplehaze to produce new bulbs that became new flowers in the next season. Each year the purplehaze died and it was the new plants that would feed the beebats growing children. The plant and beebats had a symbiotic system in play. Regardless of how balanced and natural this process was, it bothered Doug inside because somehow he felt like the beebat. He tried not to think about the sweet summer smell of the purplehaze as he walked into the center of the city. He had one more hour to get through, and wanted to think of how he'd get off the planet rather than depressing evolutionary cycles.

As Doug walked through the alien city, he had an idea of how he might be able to help the next human ship, if there was one. Surely Humanity wouldn't just let ships disappear without coming back to investigate? No, another was coming eventually, and he needed to find an effective way to combat the alien weapons. He walked past a shiny blue square building. These were the ones that hummed-probably a supplementary power junction supporting the weaponry of the city. They must support the energy guns that disabled the ships, and the tractor beams that forced it down. Those areas were protected by guard robots, and although the robots seemed innocuous, they were deadly. They were capable of killing humans. A couple years back, one of the captives tried to evade them in order to enter the alien weapons site and ended up getting his neck broken.

Doug kept that in mind as he neared a robot guarding a large spherical building. Why was the building being guarded? It was on the outskirts and not a known weapon site. As he passed he heard a sound of a person yelling. Someone was inside the sphere. It had to be a human hostage. It sounded like a woman's voice. Doug carefully walked up, about two yards away from the guard robot. He stopped, looked at the shiny metallic device and waited. He wasn't sure if the robot would respond as he had not asked a question, nor had he tried to enter the sphere. After a few seconds he saw a woman being dragged out of the sphere by another robot. She was being taken to a small transport ship. She saw Doug and yelled something unintelligible at him.

The woman's words got cut off by the robot touching the back of her head with a waving appendage. He assumed it gave her an electric shock-or maybe even killed her. She collapsed into limp immobility and was carried into a small shuttle waiting nearby. It lifted silently under anti-gravity and headed out into space. Originally, people thought they went to another location on Xanadu, but eventually some of the persons being transported returned. One of them said that they'd been transferred to a ship and gone to another planet.

Why the Sinchiks would take humans to another planet and bring some back made no sense. Then again the whole Sinchik race made no sense. The robots were very smart, or at least were very intricately programmed. They knew the technology to build the city, make the weapons, and protect the Sinchiks.

The one thing Doug felt sure of was that it wasn't the Sinchiks that were the ultimate worry, it was the damn robots. He suspected they had to be both manufactured and operated, for the most part, somewhere beneath the city. The Sinchiks were like a well-armed, wealthy nation that over-expanded and became fat and lazy from success. Those thoughts ran through Doug's head as he stared at the six-foot long, silver plated robot. He swore as he saw the robot swivel toward him on its treads. It was time to move on and get away from the sphere. The robot was making him feel like a beebat next to a flower that was ready to take a bite.

Chapter Eighteen: It didn't fool Eve

May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't.

-General George S. Patton

The damaged robot, Unit 77 of Colony 743, thought of itself as C-77. During the invasion of human organic units, a plasma bolt had damaged it and shocked its CPU into immobility. It came back to its senses when magnetic pulses began saturating it. It began a routine information query. The master unit of C-743 failed to respond. It could only conclude it must have been destroyed. Thus, it must now take over Master Functions for Colony 743 unless an older, and thus higher rated unit, was located. It also realized it was a prisoner of the unchipped human organic invaders. It was being held in what it soon recognized must be a closed partition of a human interstellar transportation unit. There was only a faint signal from MH-1, indicating the interstellar transportation unit was blocking most of the electromagnetic fields. But at least MH-1 was intact and would calculate a final solution.

The rounded subroutine section atop its frame blinked and changed color as it began the course of action it had decided on. First it tried once more to contact Master Unit C-743, then gave up for the present. It sent another query requesting any Master Units and any Subunits within range to acknowledge but take no action. This request was answered by two intact Subunits, S-455 and S-945. It began turning slowly, searching, searching ...movement stopped. It sent a tentative signal to the computer console Fred Jergens had been recording results on while he and Harriette were performing the MRI on it. When they made their hurried exit to inform Captain Keane of what they'd discovered, he hadn't bothered turning it off. It was still open and easily accessible to anyone who cared to do so. C-77 scanned for a communication connection. All seemed to be of an ancient variety as they used lower complexity protocols. Even so, there was the challenge of getting access codes. With the advanced systems at C-77's disposal, this did not take long. C-77 sent an array of signals to connect to an internal low security wireless ship communication system. This then allowed access to some organic unit's unencrypted password files.

The access created a snowball effect. C-77 opened files and analyzed data, though this took a long time before it could really get anything useful; a full seven minutes of computing and searching the ship's contents before it entered a central data warehouse. C-77 knew the humans would consider this dizzying speed-and the difference between it and the organics gave C-77 confidence in its supreme evolutional advantage, or the robot equivalent of confidence. The organic beings, which C-77 discovered called themselves humans, had a ship data format that was in old binary, but it was data that had more lockdown codes. Eventually C-77 hit the right solution and was able to interface. Not only were the files now open, but none of the other files were locked down. They were all controlled by the same password, now conveniently accessible after further analysis.

It rapidly downloaded all the data available from Jergen's accessible memory files. It then used his password to very carefully try to enter the massive CPU controlling the ship after first setting up a covering code to fool the CPU into thinking it was a routine inquiry. The CPU was actually a conglomeration of 2,048 smaller CPUs that worked together as a single unit called Eve. It was inefficient too, but because of the density of systems it posed a challenge. Eve would be the toughest system to crack.

It didn't fool Eve at first, but patient work allowed C-77 to finally enter into one of Eve's files. It was a minor one and didn't lead to any others, but C-77 was patient, knowing there must be a way to go from this file further into the circuitry governing the CPU. While it was about this task, it examined its mangled elastic metal treads, along with the straps holding it to the dolly. Several manipulating arms extended, probing the parts. It found that its treads could not be repaired but it continued on, examining the two dollies it was attached to. A few moments of experimentation enabled it to extend two strong, still-working appendages to the floor and move the dollies by pushing on it. It knew exactly where it wanted to go. Unerringly it worked itself over to the hatch its two subordinate robots were locked behind. To its mind, the lock was simple enough. Tiny tentacles extended from the end of an appendage, probed the lock, and in a few minutes had it open. It raised the bar and pulled open the hatch.

A quick test determined that both units were in working condition. It gave them orders and they began to move. Both units came out into the room with the small damaged robot. Using their repair mechanisms, within a half hour they had the master unit ready to move under its own power. It ordered them to the closed hatch that it knew was being guarded by humans. It examined it and determined which way it would open. When that was done, it ordered the two subordinate units to a new position where they wouldn't be seen when the hatch opened. There it waited behind them. It gave no further orders because it was not yet ready to move on. First it needed to complete its invasion of the ship's CPU and take it over.

***

After being recognized by the combined marine/engineering guard, Lieutenant Jergens was passed into the quarantined section of the Doc Travis engineering room where the robot he and Harriette had done the MRI on was still ensconced. He was as excited as a kid who'd just got his first toy rocket to launch into the stratosphere by illegally adding extra booster engines. Finally the fighting was over and he had time to explore just what in hell had happened during the MRI. Harriette would be along after he'd set up some new testing apparatus designed to explore the robot CPU. The robot was still there, the undamaged front section facing him as he came inside and closed the hatch behind him. But ...it wasn't in the same spot as he'd left it. Oh-the guards must have moved it for some reason or another even if they weren't supposed to have been in the room. He headed for the nearest workbench with his load of instruments.

With his back turned, one of the bigger robots rolled forward. One of its front appendages raised high in the air while its end portion formed a hardened knob. Jergens suddenly became aware of a moving shadow where no movement should be possible. He opened his mouth to speak to whoever the hell was in the room without permission. No words came out. The knobbed robot arm made a swishing noise as it descended at an incalculable speed. It struck Jergens on the side of his head, crushing it and killing him instantly. He fell to the floor in a lifeless heap.

The master robot still hadn't managed access to Eve's master files even though it was continually trying. It knew that sooner or later the humans would discover what it and its minions were doing. C-77 hoped to have the ship's CPU under control by then. What it did have was a complete schematic diagram of the ship's interior. It decided that if it could not access the ship's CPU through the computer in this room, there would at least be direct inlet ports in the control room.

It waited, though. It could still be possible to gain access from here. When it did have control, regardless of how it was obtained, it already knew it could take over the ship through the simple method of killing all the humans aboard by manipulating the environmental controls. In fact, perhaps it didn't need complete access. It might possibly be done from its present location. No. Not possible. Environment was very heavily safety controlled. And finally, it concluded that the central CPU could not be accessed from this place. It must move, killing any humans in its path.

***

Harriette Juenne had made up her mind that if Fred was loathe to make the first move, then it was up to her. Working with him in the closed room on the robots ought to be the perfect opportunity. There was even a little couch there. She approached the guards with dreamy eyes, thinking much more about Fred's body than the work in front of them. Before she had a chance to even ask them for access the hatch began to open. Their eyes were on her, though. She was a very good looking woman, and guard duty was very boring.

"You must be eager for me to get in there with Lieutenant Jergens if you're opening the door this quickly," she said with a smile.

"What? What door?" The engineer turned quickly as he heard a noise behind him. "Hey!" he shouted, raising his weapon, a short barreled, powerful scattergun thought perfect for subduing a robot.

He was too late. The large robot just inside the opening had a fully charged capacitor. It pointed a tentacle. A blue bolt of electricity shot across the short space, hitting the engineer squarely in the chest. A light smell of ozone filled the room. The other guard grunted as his companion's body brushed into him as it fell. He staggered and turned to see what was happening.

Harriette screamed and ran. She turned the corner of the passageway just in time to avoid another bolt of electricity. Behind her both guards lay crumpled on the deck, as lifeless at the metal they lay on.

***

"Captain, I've been getting some funny readings from Eve and can't seem to pinpoint the cause," an enlisted electronics tech on duty in the control room said.

"Have you tried contacting Lieutenant Jergens?" Keane asked distractedly. He was busy with Lieutenant Lan Nguyen, the environmental officer. He was concerned about apparent hacking attempts into the files governing the ship's air supply.

"Yes, sir, I've tried. His com isn't answering, sir."

That got Keane's attention. "What?!" Not answering a duty-related call was serious business, especially since Jergen's stated destination was Engineering, where he intended to work some more with the captured robots. While Keane was deciding whether to send his enlisted aide to find the Electronics Officer, Harriette came bursting into the control room.

"Captain! Captain Keane! The robots are loose! I think they killed Fred!" Tears were streaming down her face and her whole body was trembling with fright.

"Weapons! Call the marines! Have them send an armed squad to the control room immediately and another to Engineering. Tell them to be on the lookout for escaped robots. They are to shoot to kill! Got it?"

"Got it, sir," June said immediately, already activating her com.

Keane bent to a drawer beneath his console and keyed in the combination from his wrist com. He pulled out the drawer, revealing a half dozen hand weapons. He didn't know how effective they might be against the robots but anything was better than nothing. He began handing them out as he called names. "Mundahan, Eweing, Coha, Wannstead, Shoshana."

Each took one of the handguns. They were specially designed for heavy impact at very short ranges in order to avoid damage to the electronic wizardry in the room. Whether they could hold off the rogue robots if they made it to the control room was questionable but Keane would die before allowing them to get past. Hopefully the marines would arrive first. Already four heavy titanium rods were locking the two-inch thick hardened carbide hatchway. That in itself was a formidable barrier, although not quite as much of one as he would have liked. During fitting at DARPA, it was one factor that had been completely overlooked in terms of upgrading.

***

Major Rambling had been removing his clothes in anticipation of a very welcome nap. He was almost completely undressed when his com tingled and jolted his wrist with a sharp pain. He cursed and answered it.

"You've got be kidding me? A robot escaped! To where?" He sat back on the bed, eyes wide. He listened for a moment then nodded. "I'm on it." He punched his wrist to relay his com to the First Sergeant and began giving instructions while pulling his clothes on.

***

"Duty squad, form up in the ready armory room. On the bounce!" First Sergeant Watkins shouted. The battle station alarm designating Secure Critical Systems and Repel Boarders was blaring over the all-ship speaker, sending marines tumbling from bunks, turning over chairs, scattering cards in the day rooms and hustling to their duty stations.

"Backup duty squad, form up in adjacent armory," Watkins shouted into the mad melee of marines shucking into battle armor and others rushing to the main armory bay.

"Duty Squad, over here, on the bounce!" Martinez ordered. He made a quick scan of the squad members, checking to be sure they had their equipment. "Our assignment is protection of the control room against robots running amok. Let's go! Move, move!"

No sooner had they rushed out than Platoon Sergeant Jeeta Suharto of Second Platoon was there. "Backup Squad, form on me! Assignment is to engage and destroy rogue robots loose on the ship. Last report has them entering passageway B-1, adjacent to the main passageway, A-I. They appear to be heading for the control room. We're to stop them before they get there. Move, move! On the bounce!"

All over the ship naval ratings and officers reported to and secured their sections, operating in a hurried blur of bodies that appeared senseless and random, but their movements had very little waste motion to them. Repeated drills on the way to the Bolt Cluster were paying off now. The crew could practically handle this duty in their sleep.

***

The backup duty squad entered the main passageway, intending to drop down to B-1 and intercept the robots there, but it was too late. Master C-77 had hacked the elevator and politely rode up to the main passageway without a soul seeing the robots as the marines disdained the elevators for the ladders. Half the squad was already descending when the robots burst out of the elevator, led by the two large ones. Twenty thousand volt electrical charges and energy bolts fired almost simultaneously as the robots met the concentrated fire from a half dozen positioned marines armed with scatterguns.

The privates and corporals on point, leading the charge down the ladder, were out of the fight. The combat was swift and brutal. Most of the surprised marines fell from bolts of electricity searing their bodies while the slugs from scatterguns weren't nearly as effective unless their firepower was combined. The platoon sergeant and team leaders retreated behind a wall. The other marines, trying to reverse course and come back up the ladder, were slaughtered and tumbled back down in heaps. Two robots moved on, leaving one of the larger ones immobile but still capable of fighting. It backed into the open elevator and waited, holding the door open with an appendage.

***

Master C-77 was easily capable of multi-tasking. All the while it was fighting with the other units, albeit from the rear, it kept trying two other courses of action. It hunted through the few files of Eve it had managed to gain control of with amazing speed and understanding, wanting to find a way to control the big AI that managed the ship. It also searched through the schematics of the control room circuitry, hunting for the key to unlock that vital area. Just as it deciphered the lock for the control room hatch another fight with humans ensued. Its remaining subunit, S-945, took the brunt of fire from the organic units arriving to protect the control room, forcing C-77 to add its charged capacitor to the battle as well.

***

"Kill the goddamned metal motherfuckers!" Martinez roared as his squad arrived at the short passage leading directly into the control room. Bolts of energy, jagged surges of electrical energy, and hundreds of scattergun slugs crisscrossed in the packed passageway, felling marines and impacting the robots simultaneously. Screams, shouts and curses were met by the silent lethality of the robots. The largest one began smoking and settled on its treads, out of action or dead, Martinez didn't care. "Get that last one!" he screamed just as he realized he was talking only to himself. His scattergun clocked out. He tossed a grenade that was met in mid-air by a bolt of electricity, dampening its power. It still had enough of a charge to knock him senseless. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious among his fallen comrades. The control room door hatch began opening.

***

"Get ready," Mundahan warned. "Coha, protect the Captain."

"I don't-" Keane began but his voice was overridden by a cacophony of yells and curses and hand weapons firing in the closed space. A single robot entered the room, seemingly immune to impact of hollow point slugs cascading from all points of the control room onto it.

"It's got the backup computer!" shouted an electronics tech who had continued to monitor Eve and her alternates.

" Eve, override backup!" Commander Levy yelled, hoping the AI could understand him over the roar of battle. He immediately fell to the deck from a bolt of electricity hitting him in the chest.

"Shit!" PO3 Coha said when he saw the robot swivel the appendage it had been using to throw the lightning bolts; it was now pointing toward them, or more exactly, toward Captain Keane, whose gun had just emptied. Coha turned, bent into a linesman formation, and put all his strength into a quick body block that knocked his superior completely off his feet. The bolt of electricity passed over them. A couple of scattered charges singed his hair. He rose up to fire back at the robot. Whether by intent or luck he acted too quick to think about it, and his shot hit the robot squarely on the appendage being used as a weapon. It shattered into pieces and popped like a large light bulb. The timing must have been lucky because his shot caused a tremendous electrical short just as the robot fired. It smoked for a second then its top blew off, hitting the control room ceiling and shattering into pieces that fell to the floor. It settled onto its treads, no longer a menace, just a smoking charred wreck.

Keane cursed as he went down, knowing the Petty Officer intended to sacrifice his own life to save his. Fortunately for his self-esteem he left the oath unuttered when he saw what Coha had done to the robot.

"Good going, Coha," he said, getting to his feet. "I now know why the guys call you 'tank'." He patted the Petty Officer on the shoulder and looked around. There was carnage among his people but control of the ship still resided with them. "Form a work party to get that thing out of here. Has anyone called for medical help?"

"I just did, sir," June Mundahan said. She was bent over Commander Levy, giving CPR, hoping to get his heart started again after the shock it took.

Harriette Juenne was wounded and unconscious, but still breathing. Wannstead was unhurt. Two of the ratings were dead from ricocheting debris and scattergun slugs.

"Backup CPU number one has been cut from my system," Eve announced. "Hacking attempts have ceased. Restoring integrity to affected files. Awaiting further orders."

"Be sure you're clean, Eve. How about your second backup?'

"It is secure, Captain."

"Good." He stepped out of the way as the medical team. It arrived just as Levy's heart began to beat again. It had been a close call but Doc Travis and most of her crew still lived. They would fight again.

***

Two days passed before Keane felt sufficiently secure to allow normal ship's routine to resume, but he had allowed a team led by Doctor Henry Sorkalsky to autopsy the two Worms that had gone crazy at the same time the robots got loose. Harriette Juenne had also looked at the robots in an entirely new light, working with a bandaged shoulder. Sorkalsky and she were both in his day cabin now, ready to report.

"Coffee, Professor Juenne? Doctor Sorkalsky?" Keane asked after he'd been seated.

"Thank you, Captain. Please."

CPO Mura poured for them and left the carafe on the low table between them.

"And now, Doctor Sorkalsky, I understand you have some important news for us?"

"I think so, Captain. Up until the event of the berserk robots and Worms, is it correct to state that we thought the Worms were the dominant beings and the robots worked for them?"

Keane grimaced inside at the mention of so many deaths being referred to as an "event" but managed to conceal it, not without considerable difficulty. He saw that Dunaway, who was also present, flushed slightly with anger but suppressed his ire as well. No doubt he thought the doctor didn't know any better, and probably he didn't.

"That's not quite accurate. We had begun to have some doubts about who was really in charge on the two planets where we've fought them, but had reached no conclusions," Keane said.

"Oh," Sorkalsky said. He tugged at his beard, which was completely white. He was the oldest man on the expedition. Had he been in the military he would have been retired. "Well, in any case, I believe the robots have been in charge all along. We paid particular attention to the Worm brains during these autopsies. They had gone 'crazy', I believe is the term used?"

"Yes," Keane said shortly.

"Well, as I said, we gave meticulous attention to the Worm brains during the autopsies. We discovered that both of them were carrying a tiny artificial structure in what for them is the equivalent of our cerebral cortex, the reasoning part of the brain. The structure was encapsulated with what we believe to be the Worm equivalent of scar tissue. The presence of scar tissue indicates it had been in place a long time, probably since shortly after birth." He paused as if his explanation was finished.

"That's fine, Doctor. But what was the structure?"

"Oh. Yes. It took a very powerful microscope to determine its internal architecture. The Worms had a very, very advanced microchip inserted into their brains."

"And how about the previous autopsies that were done, Doctor?" Dunaway asked. "Were those brains imbedded with a chip?"

"Umm." A flush appeared on Sorkalsky's cheeks above his beard. "Yes, uh, Commander Dunaway. After finding them in the two Worms we autopsied we went back and looked in the preserved remains of other Worms we'd brought aboard and done autopsies on. I regret that we missed the implants then. In our defense, they are very tiny and we never thought ...well, no one thought of it."

Keane wondered how many lives might have been saved had the microchips, or whatever their Worm analogues were, been found to begin with. Had they known to go after the robots first in combat, both cities might have been more easily conquered. However, he didn't intend to cast blame. He hadn't even conceived of a whole species being enslaved to robots, if indeed that were the case. He turned to the physicist.

"Professor Juenne, you've stated in your report that you now believe the robots are controlling the Worms?"

She nodded. "Yes, Captain, but that's not all. During the MRI exam, we discovered two separate types of signals. After consideration of what happened, I think it's likely the smaller robot was in control of both larger ones. I have no idea how many Worms an individual robot can control yet. I'm still studying what's left of its CPU. Also, and I have no proof of this, but I think it's likely that there is a hierarchy in existence, something higher than the little master robot that might in turn control its class. It was certainly trying to signal to something else besides its subordinate robots."

"That sounds logical, sir," Dunaway said. "I'll have Major Rambling go back over his combat records with that in mind and see how it parses. It would be nice to know exactly what we'll be getting into when we reach Xanadu."

"That, XO, is an understatement," Keane said.

***

Rambling did as the executive officer asked and reported to Keane's cabin the next day. As requested, he brought Cindy along as well. Keane had also invited Dunaway to join them for the conference. After they had all settled, and after a brief 'Thank you for coming', Keane looked over toward Rambling. Both men were expecting the situation at Xanadu to be bad regardless of any new intelligence. They'd have to plan something really brilliant to get in and out of that hornet's nest with the human captives they knew were being held there. Each planet was getting tougher and tougher. Keane didn't like the idea that both the Worms and the robots were smarter and tougher at each planet. Or perhaps it was just the robots. Xanadu was the center, and the oldest. Its city would surely be complete.

Keane kept the four together for an hour of discussions and brainstorming but the best they could come up with was simply to concentrate fire on the small master robots during any fighting.

"I'm going to break out every heavy caliber rifle we brought along," Rambling said. "I don't know how many we have off hand, or how many of my troops can use them effectively, but they are the best weapon against robots in ground combat."

"Will you want Cindy to stay in the ship again to call in air strikes if you need them?"

"Definitely, Captain." He smiled grimly. "The assistance from the ship was a tremendous help and I'm sure it will be again."

"All right. If there's anything else you think of before we arrive be sure and let me know, anytime at all."

"Yes, sir. I certainly shall!"

With the Doc Travis due to arrive in the Xanadu system within two days, Keane pondered the fate of the crew, the possible hostages, and how the alien culture might relate to Earth's. It was the people who counted on him that he cared about most deeply. That had always seemed to be embedded in his DNA, or so he kept telling himself. After the meeting had ended, he took an extra cup of coffee to his lounge and pondered the likely tough decisions that would lie ahead. He knew he could make them. It was one reason he was chosen for this mission, but it was a dark and largely thankless task. Everyone thought they wanted to be the captain-that is until they actually found out what the job was really like.

Everyone wants to be something, he thought, usually something different than what they are. Keane knew there was some writer out there who wanted to be a Space Navy captain. Sometimes he thought he'd like to change places with that person. Although he loved his job, he dreamt as a kid that he'd write stories about the Universe. Now he'd discovered the actual Universe was wilder, crazier and more dangerous than anything he'd ever thought of writing about. Scientists consistently said that science fact was way stranger than any science fiction story. Maybe they were right, and maybe one day when he got back to Earth he'd retire and become a writer anyhow. Then again, maybe he'd be killed at Xanadu or on some other expedition. He strongly suspected the Doc Travis was already involved in the first interstellar war. Those thoughts rolled through his tired mind as he took his scheduled four shift of sleep. A shift that lately seemed to be regularly interrupted by one emergency or another.

Chapter Nineteen: Horrid Remains

I believe that the aliens are here primarily for their own purposes, one of which is to make sure that our brand of "friendship" is not visited upon other civilizations in the neighborhood. If we can't get our act together, they will keep us from leaving.

-Stanton T. Friedman, Nuclear Physicist, Top Secret/ Majic

Clemmie went into the Vivjo, an orange glowing building, for her 'test'. She thought it strange that she would be required to take some kind of test after all this time. She was terrified that she had been picked as one of the subjects who were led off and were never seen again. She let out a sigh of tremendous relief when she entered a room as directed and realized it was a medical facility. Some of her fellows had been to it for one reason or another and returned to tell about it. The fat brown Sinchik who'd escorted her pushed her toward a cold grey table.

She sat down while a black furry Sinchik pressed a flat sticky device onto her stomach. It sent clicking sounds that changed tone as the alien adjusted dials. The Sinchik said something that loosely translated into 'fruit good'. Clemmie was horrified. She must be pregnant. I must kill it! She thought. There was no way she was going to allow a child be born on this god-forsaken planet. A tear ran down her cheek. She really didn't want to destroy a baby, but this would be a mercy killing if she could figure out a way to do it. She wished Doug was by her side, more than anything she'd wanted for a long time.

The brown Sinchik looked over at Clemmie and said in a heavy tongued voice: "Human tears of joy, what a waste of body fluids. Go to Welshass and see Songorah."

"Jah. I obey," Clemmie said, while wanting to choke the fat ugly Sinchik.

***

Doug continued his walk back to his Wah, but since the rains had become ever more intense, he knew he had an excuse to delay his arrival. While being wet didn't particularly bother him, he knew the Worms didn't care for rain at all. They always stayed inside during downpours. The summer precipitation would sometimes undercut even the tough material used for the streets, and the one today looked like a real frog-strangler. He walked under any overhang when he could in order to shield himself from the downpour, but in the crazy-quilt pattern of structures of the Worm city that wasn't always possible. He knew they must have some rationale for how they arranged the city, but why and how a spire or a square or a dome was placed made no particular sense that he'd ever been able to figure out.

However, now that he knew the city had an underlying warren of tunnels which, according to Clemmie, were extensive enough to practically make up another city beneath the surface, perhaps they were somehow tied together. He stopped at another overhang and shoved his hands down inside his pants and then pulled out the little pouch that held the map of the known tunnels Clemmie had given him. The knowledge of where they went didn't extend as far as his Wah, but now that he knew they were there he intended to try exploring in his area. All he had to do was find an entrance to the underground system. Which might be easier said than done. While humans were frequently sent on errands, the Worms or robots always seemed to know how long they should take. Today, though, presented an unusual opportunity, if he could find a way to take advantage of it.

The map didn't help much. He sealed it back into the pouch and stuffed it back into his pocket. The persistent rain showed no signs of letting up any time soon. He decided to brave the downpour and hurry on back toward his Wah; at least now he could be alert for any signs of how the aliens descended underground. Probably the entrances were inside the buildings rather than outside, but one never knew. It became increasingly difficult to see where he was going as the downpour became even more intense. He walked on with his arm in front of his face, not only because it helped a little in keeping the rain out of his eyes but actually helped him to breathe!

This really was one of the worst storms he'd ever seen. Or at least the heaviest rain. He stumbled over something and held out his arms. The next thing he knew he was submerged in rushing water with his body being battered back and forth against unseen obstacles. He held his breath, not knowing what had happened and trying desperately to orient himself. Just as he was reaching the limits of his endurance he saw a glimmer of light. He stroked for it with the last of his strength. His head broke into air and he gasped, again and again, renewing his strength but still not knowing where he was. He clung to an abutment, barely able to hang on against the force of the water cascading past him. There was enough light to see that the flood of water was choked with debris and that enabled him to figure out what must have happened.

The hardest and most enduring downpour he had seen since being captured must have cut a section out of the side street he'd recognized through the pouring water. It had taken him for a ride, but at least a ride in the direction of his Wah. Now he had no idea where he was but he knew it couldn't be too far from home. The water, while swift, couldn't have carried him that far but he vaguely remembered a sensation of being washed down a slope. He must be underground in one of the tunnels Clemmie had told him about. Now the problem was getting back to his Wah before being missed.

It suddenly occurred to him that this was a perfect opportunity to look around while trying to find his way out of the labyrinth and without being found some place where he shouldn't be. He was still holding on to the abutment, a projection of rounded metal projecting from the side of the tunnel. A few yards beyond was an open entrance. It was elevated enough that most of the water coursed on past. He eyed the distance then let go and stroked vigorously for the opening. His feet touched bottom as he did, making him realize he had been standing all the while. He really had been disoriented. He made it through the arched entrance. A ramp led upward in one direction and down in the other. Across from him was another arch. Mentally flipping a coin he turned left into the downward sloping path, hoping he wasn't letting himself into more trouble than he could get out of.

The light grew brighter as he walked. Periodically other tunnels, all with flat floors and rounded walls and ceiling, crossed his path. Fearful of losing his way he continued straight ahead. There was light enough to see his thumb so he could time himself. He decided on no more than a half hour before starting back, figuring the flood might be abating by then. Ten more minutes of cautious walking without seeing either a Worm or robot made him decide to stop and think for a moment. After a moment he heard a faint noise. Tcht tcht tcht and then he had it. He was near, probably right beneath, the city's main defense against air or space attack. The noise was the sound of the daily test of the big laser cannon. He went a little farther to verify it. The noise grew louder. Abruptly he stopped. The tunnel he was in had come to a dead end. But surely it wouldn't end just like that?

He looked around. The tunnel had been lighted all the way by the squares of reddish light, as had the side paths. He looked up. A light there was bisected, leaving only half of it showing. That must mean there was something on the other side. He checked his thumb again. There was little time left to explore and he was still wondering why he hadn't seen any moving thing on his journey, neither alien nor robot nor human. Then it came to him. They must all be busy with repairs to the streets or shoving partitions into place to divert rushing water and cleaning out buildings never designed for this kind of deluge. He might never have this chance again!

He felt around on the wall beside him. It was all smooth metal. In front of him was more of the metal but surely there had to be a way past? He examined it closely and finally found a thin line, beginning at ground level on one side and rising to make a curve higher than his head before descending to the other side to the floor. It had to be a door, but how to open it? One of the robots would probably gain entrance electronically-but how about a Sinchik? How would they get in? He ran his hands around the seam but could find no projections, no indentations, nothing at all but the smooth metal and the faint line of the door.

He backed off and closed his eyes, imagining a Sinchik approaching, its four front appendages free while the rest of them were used for locomotion. Sinchiks frequently used the front appendages to carry things, though. Suppose his imaginary Sinchik was loaded down, what would it do? Use its feet? Maybe. He got down on his hands and knees, still imagining a Sinchik being there. Where would its feet be located on the floor? Not right up against a wall, he thought. He backed away a meter or so and began examining the silvery metal. Nothing on one side of the floor. He moved and peered closely on the other side. And there it was, another line, not even quite as faint as the one indicating an entrance.

He stood up and started to step on the spot, then hesitated. Dare he take the chance? Suppose there were Sinchiks or robots right on the other side? Well, he'd come this far. Deliberately he stepped on the demarcation. Nothing happened. Shit! No, wait. Sinchiks were heavier than humans, denser. He stamped his foot on the spot. Without a sound the door slid smoothly sideways into a recession. He looked beyond it and almost lost his last meal.

Doug stood confused and horrified. He was staring into a large room. A dozen or so men and women were in there, along with a few children. They sat leaning against the wall or stood or lay haphazardly on the floor. Not one of them paid him any attention. A woman languidly gazed toward him, and she surely should have noticed him, but she merely blinked sluggishly and went on to stare blankly into the distance, perhaps at something beyond his perception. The occupants of the room were varied in age and appearance, although they all had long hair and the men all had beards. Both hair and beards had the appearance of having been raggedly hacked off when it grew so long as to be troublesome.

There was one other thing they all had in common. Growing from the top of each one's head was a black receptor, similar to the ones the robots used for plugging certain types of small instruments into the city's electrical system. Against the far wall he detected a number of cables that ended with the part that plugged into receptors. He knew exactly what they were for. He shuddered. The sight made him ill. The captives were obviously being studied and experimented on to discover the basics of human thinking and behavior. Various portions of their brains were probably subjected to an endless series of graduated stimuli of different types. For what purpose he had no real idea but a horrible suspicion began growing in his mind, perhaps related to the declining population of Sinchiks, but most likely for a more sinister purpose. The breeding session with Clemmie took on a whole new meaning now.

Abruptly he realized he should leave even though he would like to cross the room and study the apparatus arranged at a height convenient to the small robots. And he wondered just what might be on the other side of those cables. Nothing good, he knew, but there was no time left to investigate further. He needed to get back before he was missed and report this to the underground. The knowledge needed to be spread around so that if something happened to him, others would know. He turned around but his way out was blocked. The door had slid silently closed behind him while he had been staring at the horrid remains of what had once been normal human beings.

Chapter Twenty: The Devil will get you for being Evil

It is important to have an open mind, but not so open that your head whistles when the wind blows. Space Navy Strategy Handbook, 2051

Bullet sat with Barbara in the Gymnasium, listening as Major Rambling spoke again of fallen comrades. Before, though, there had been a sense of rightness. The marines had died in combat on planets in battles that had been expected, and where casualties had been expected. This time the fighting had been unexpected, an abrupt brutal clash inside the ship. Nor had the deaths been randomly distributed like before. Like a black swath of doom, almost every single marine of the duty squad and backup duty squad died within minutes of each other, and the very few survivors were all wounded. He knew those few would feel lost even after returning to duty with their closest comrades, their friends and sometimes lovers gone forever. There would have to be some reorganization of the platoons now to even out the distribution of marines within the units. Perhaps even some transfers back and forth between companies.

" ...will go on, just as marines always have," the Major said, as if reading his thoughts. "Our comrades fell doing their duty, serving their country, and protecting their ship and the rest of us. Not one of them turned away, not one failed to give that last full devotion to duty that we admire so much in our chosen profession. Let us remember ..."

He felt Barbara squeezing his hand and glanced at her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks but she made no attempt to wipe them away. She sat straight and listened intently, seeming to draw strength from their commander's words, just as he was.

" ...next fight may be an even sterner test but I know that I, and Captain Keane, indeed every person aboard Doc Travis, can count on you to ..."

***

Now hear this! Zero gravity in thirty seconds! Attach yourself to a handhold, secure loose objects. Zero gravity in thirty seconds! Mark! Twenty nine, twenty eight ...

The ceremony was ended. The bodies were being cast forth into space, there to spend eternity among the stars or perhaps to fall into the arms of a star after an endless time. It was a fitting resting place, Bullet thought, since they had died while in space.

Neither he nor Barbara had been selected for the honor guard, those few marines in full dress uniform who stood duty at the air lock, but he could imagine it. He had stood in honor for another comrade who had died of wounds received during their first fight after they were back in space. Prayers for the dead would be said while the airlock was pumped full of air then the outer door unlocked by remote control. The remains would fly out on their unimaginably long final orbit among the stars of the galaxy.

"I wish I could have been there," Barbara said quietly. "Jeremiah was a good friend. We went through boot camp together."

"Yeah. I guess its part of the marines, though. We train, we fight, and some of us die."

"Uh huh. And speaking of training, I'll bet the First Sergeant is going to work hell out of us the next couple of days."

"Only two days?"

"That's all that's left before we hit Xanadu, unless I lost one somewhere."

Bullet counted days in his head. "Damn, you're right. Hell, I don't mind, though. Some good hard PT or sims of urban warfare will take our minds off the ones that got it."

"That's the idea. And look for the simulations to be improved now that we know more about the Worms and robots. I bet they're going to be set up to give more emphasis on robots."

"Won't that be fun? Wish we could do it together."

"Huh! Didn't I tell you? No, I guess I forgot during all the confusion with the robots being loose and all. Top had me and the other snipers pull all the heavy caliber rifles on board out of the armory. We have enough extras for everyone who had the familiarization course in basic. And you're one of the select category."

Bullet grinned. "Be damned, we will be together." Then his face fell. "But I never had any sniper training."

"Doesn't matter. The extras are going to be formed into a couple of special strike teams for close-in fighting where there are lots of robots. I don't know for sure, but before I left the session I heard someone suggest shortening the barrels of the older models you guys will be issued for easier handling in close situations." She smiled wickedly. "A robot is a big enough target so even you can't miss."

"The devil will get you for that, Sweetheart."

"Not to worry, Babe. I'm going to be checking out troops on the old Barrett's and I'll show you everything you need to know. Now me, I'll get one of the new M107s. Shit, with those babies, us snipers might not even leave you any robots to kill!"

***

"Cindy, I'll want you along for the Captain's conference. We're going to be getting into a lot of detail and not only do I want you there, Keane does, too," Rambling said after the memorial services were finished and they were walking back toward their offices.

Cindy felt a little tug in the vicinity of her heart at the mention of Keane's name, a frequent occurrence now. Shit, I've got it bad, she thought. Aloud she said "Certainly, sir. I take it we're going to be remodeling our concept of how the aliens are organized and how we're going to fight them now?'

"Yes, that and more, but let it go for now." He glanced at his thumb. "You've got time for an hour's rest before you have to get ready. Go get it while you have the chance."

"Yes, sir. I will." She knew she needed the down time, just as he did. They were both behind with Xanadu coming up in two days.

***

Shit! Doug thought, staring at the metal door. Now what? He seemed to be saying that a lot lately. Well, if the blasted thing opened one way on the other side it should do the same on this side, he decided. Again, he got down on hands and knees and examined the floor until he found the same latch, flush with the deck against the wall. He stamped on it and just as before, the door panel slid into its recess. He stepped through and turned to watch as it closed behind him.

He had still seen no sign of robots or Sinchiks but he knew that couldn't last. He began walking back the way he had come, taking long, hurried strides and looking back over his shoulder frequently. He began to feel closed in and quickened his pace until he was moving at a fast trot. He felt his thigh and calf muscles beginning to hurt and burn, making him realize how far beneath the city he had been. It hadn't been quite so noticeable when walking down the sloping tunnel but going back up certainly got his attention. His breath became labored but he kept on, impelled by the fear of being caught where he didn't belong. What if he was captured beneath the city and hooked up like those pitiful people he'd seen?

Finally he recognized the abutment he'd caught while being washed away. The water had gone down considerably. He began working his way back upstream. By this time he was very tired and knew he was going to be later than he'd anticipated arriving at his Wah. He hoped Frang wasn't looking for him yet but the fucking Sinchik probably was, unless maybe it had been drawn into repair or cleanup work.

It took some contortion to pull himself up out of the hole in the side street he'd stepped into. It was even bigger now but had few handholds. He struggled with his abused muscles, slipping and falling back then crawling forward again until at last he levered himself back onto level ground. He rolled away from the edge of the hole and gasped for breath. If it had taken even a little more effort he doubted he would have made it. While laying there with his eyes closed and trying to recover enough energy to get to his feet and return to his Wah he made a vow that he'd start working out again. He had allowed himself to get a bit out of condition.

"Crap!" he yelled as a forceful kick hit him on the side, adding another bruise to the many he'd already suffered from the buffeting of the raging water. He opened his eyes then got hurriedly to his feet, tiredness forgotten.

Frang was beside him, asking where he'd been. It slapped him to emphasize the question.

"Jah!" he stamped his foot. "I was washed away. I have only now found my way back."

Frang slapped him once more. "Go to your Wah. I will have work for you later."

Doug was only too glad to obey. He crept away, holding his injured side, not that he expected any sympathy from a Sinchik. A few minutes later he gratefully collapsed onto his crude bed. He wished he had some kind of medicine for pain but of course that had been used up long ago. Nothing to do but tough it out, just like everyone else. Finally he slept, or passed out from exhaustion. He never decided which. Frang didn't come back that day so perhaps the Sinchik had been tired, too.

***

Clemmie waited until night had fallen and the Sinchiks were mostly ensconced in their Welshass'. Generally, they didn't particularly care to move about at night, although some did for reasons of their own. She certainly didn't know why. The few who were about after dark could usually be avoided easily enough, though. It was the robots that were dangerous to people when they were supposed to be in bed. They had learned from hard experience to be very careful about them. Nevertheless, after dark was the only real chance the underground had to accomplish their tasks. Before meeting Doug she had sank to the point where it all seemed purposeless, but no more! The baby growing in her once more made the activities worthwhile. She thought she had to give her future child a chance to grow up as a free being. Even if it was only an existence in the jungle, that would be better than life as a slave.

Tonight she and a member of the neighboring Welshass, Sachini Boyton, intended to carry their exploration of the underground tunnels a little further. Their resistance cell had been doing it for the last several nights, mapping the underground paths, machine shops and power nodes where the robots sometimes congregated. There were many other interesting features beneath the city but many of them were so foreign that their function was unclear. Nevertheless, the slow accumulation of knowledge had proved worthwhile. They had found the power center for the defensive weapons of the city, no small accomplishment should a human ship return. They had also recently discovered the warehouse of courier ships and the gravity generators that pushed them into space with no harm to the city.

What Clemmie and Sachini were searching for now was the mother lode, the place the robots were said to report to, if it existed at all: Central Command. So far all they had to go on was rumor, and vague rumors at that.

"Your turn, Clemmie," Sachini said. They were in one of the tunnels where they knew a small hiding place lay around the bend, but that was as far as they had ever gone.

Clemmie glanced at Sachini. She could picture the tall aristocratic-looking woman as a queen in prehistoric Africa. She had the command presence to go with it as well.

"Got it." She began moving forward. They took turns advancing so that if one of them were caught the other could take the data of whatever they might have discovered back to be distributed to the rest of the underground. Scouting like this was nerve-wracking but the only way to obtain information about the tunnels. It was only an accident they had been discovered at all. One day an underground member offended the social order of the city by attacking a Sinchik that had brutally beaten his lover for some imagined slight. He had been grabbed by two Sinchik, accompanied by one of the small robots, and taken away. The woman he loved, despairing of ever seeing him again, followed.

In the city, in an area where humans were discouraged from visiting or working, there were a number of buildings with spires that resembled elongated mosques. The group dragged and prodded the man to one of those edifices but did not go into one of its arched entrances. Instead, he was taken by a side lane to another entrance so well concealed no one would have known it was there. The robot extended one of its side arms to a height of almost three meters. Its clawed end hooked a handle that was built into the facade and pulled. A door opened. All except the woman went inside. The door closed behind them so quickly she had no chance of following.

She never saw her lover again but she did make it back to her Wah and was able to pass the information to the underground. From that episode the rebels were able to spot many more entrances to the buried part of the alien city. By trial and error they found that one person standing on top of another could work the handle that opened into an alcove that in turn led underground.

Eventually telescoping rods were devised to make the operation easier. Daring captives had been mapping the hidden part of the city ever since. Once the method was devised, it proved relatively easy and a number of discoveries had been made. No one knew whether or not the concealment of the tunnel system was deliberate or devised. Some thought it was innocuous, others were sure it was to cover something sinister.

Clemmie listened for a moment but the area was soundless. She took a deep breath, turned the corner and darted down the tunnel to an indentation in the wall. There was no apparent reason for it to be there. Its only features were a number of square depressions in the walls of the little alcove, all about five centimeters square and the same deep. As she stood inside, its use suddenly became clear to her-she'd seem alcoves across the city where robots would stop and plug into. The little indentations were nothing more than charging or communication outlets for the small robots, probably both. They simply fit the ends of their varied arms into what she now thought of as sockets to receive energy, accept commands, or pass on hi-speed data dumps via fiber optic conduits. Clemmie saw fiber optic type cables running through tunnels and knew that it was much more secure than the wireless antennas on some of the domes and spheres.

Surviving communication specialists from the Jeane Baptiste mentioned that the Sinchik planet had a strange planetary electrical and magnetic field. The magnetic poles were twice as strong as Earth's; this and the stormy weather created electrical vortexes, making wireless communication spotty at best. Sending any messages through wireless was much slower because of the lower bandwidth. The robots also seemed to require a periodic system update from these nodes. Some from Clemmie's group had monitored the robot cycles, noting there was a charging cycle that was somewhat random, depending on how much energy the robot used. Others were speculated to be data only, as this was on a specific timed cycle. Maybe it was system updates, or just contact to a central system for integrity checks-no one was really sure.

The indentation turned into a small tee, with just enough room in either end of the cross for one person-and lengthy enough for a small robot. She waited, then stuck her head out just far enough for Sachini to see her. A few seconds later both were concealed-at least for the moment. They had come this way because it was the farthest exploration so far and none of the other underground pathways were angled downward. In this area, at least, they had reached the bottommost part of the city. Now they wanted to see what it held.

"I'm up now, huh? Look out, you fuckers, and don't get in my way." Sachini grinned and touched the homemade knife she carried, carved from a limb of a tree that grew in the center of the city. It bore fruit but it also had very sharp supporting limbs for the fruit. The tips of the limbs were extremely hard and very sharp when dried, while the portion which had borne the edible pods could be carved, albeit with difficulty. When an artisan was finished, it made a very serviceable weapon halfway between a knife and a sword. Unfortunately, it was virtually useless against the robots.

"Be careful, Sachini," Clemmie admonished.

"Don't worry," she returned and was off without another word.

Clemmie waited what seemed like ages for her signal. It finally came, a hand waving from around another right angle of the tunnel. She rushed out and ran to join her friend. She was standing in a simple opening that widened out into a large room. It was dimly lit with the reddish glow the robots appeared to like, but the most surprising thing about it was the number of robots present. Fortunately, they were all occupied with construction of a device, a complicated thing that rose from the deck to the ceiling, five meters overhead. There it disappeared but the appearance suggested this was only the base of a system that went on up into the city, perhaps even to the surface.

"What is it, Sachini?" Clemmie whispered.

"It's the base of a goddamned rail gun! And a fucking big one!" Sachini answered. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Silently they turned around and eased back the way they had come until the room was out of sight. Perhaps a robot caught a glimpse of their backs as they left, or perhaps they were seen and their presence was relayed to other robots. Or maybe they weren't seen at all and it was simply bad luck. Clemmie never knew. They were walking fast but going uphill was hard. It always was since they didn't do this often enough for their muscles to become accustomed to it.

The first indication of trouble was a noise like robot treads, a lot of them. They had just turned a corner into a long unblemished tunnel with no hiding places at all.

"Robots!" Clemmie said immediately.

"Yeah, and coming this way. Shake it up."

Clemmie began to run but suddenly realized Sachini was lagging. She turned around and saw her friend limping but still trying to run.

Clemmie stopped. "What's wrong?"

"An old trick knee from soccer. I started to run too quick and twisted it. Shit!"

The noises behind them came closer.

"Go on, Clemmie. Get out of here!"

"No! I can't leave you. Lean on me, I'll help."

A few steps proved that only slowed them down but trying it hurt Sachini's knee even worse.

"It's no good, Clemmie." She disengaged herself. "Now go! One of us needs to get this information back."

"I can't, Sachini. I just can't." The treading sounds were even closer now. She was scared and trembling but didn't see how she could leave her friend and still live with herself.

"Yes, you can! I can't make it but you've got a chance. Don't you understand?" She drew her knife and deliberately began limping painfully back toward the sound of robots.

Clemmie dithered another few seconds then ran the other way with her vision blurred by tears. She had barely made it around next bend and out of sight when she heard Sachini's scream and defiant cursing.

Chapter Twenty-One: Alien race relations?

The best advice I can give you is this: Next time you see a flying saucer and are awed by its obvious display of technology and gorgeous lights of pure color - RUN LIKE HELL!

- John Lear, ex-pilot for CIA

"Gentlemen, ladies ...and of course marines." Keane smiled, trying to relieve tension he felt was high enough to reach the peak of Mount Everest. The meeting of the most important officers, scientists and noncoms was taking place in the largest conference room of the ship. "Let's review our situation in the light of possible future actions. Ordinarily, I wouldn't revisit decisions already made but I believe it is justified in this case.

"Analysis of the cities shows they're really not cities at all in the classical sense, but more like some large peculiar factory buildings with a purpose we're not sure of. One reason why we're not sure is because we walloped the hell out of them during the fighting. Well, not the complete cities. The first place we fought was largely unfinished, with few underground facilities, but we certainly saw signs of construction. At the second city where we fought we did a lot of damage to that portion of the city beneath the surface buildings. Because of that we were unable to examine much of what lay under it. That's regrettable because we now believe the underground is the most important part of the alien construction." He paused for a moment. His face twitched in a hint of a smile, waiting for what he knew would be an interruption by one of the civilians.

"But sir, we destroyed only the smallest bit of the underground in relation to the area of the whole city. Weren't we able to gain any intelligence?"

Keane shook his head. "Very little, in the larger sense of the word. The alien cities are still mostly enigmas, and by inference, Xanadu will be also. You see, when we had to destroy the weaponry that was attempting to either kill or disable Doc Travis, much of the most important part of the city, the tunnel system, collapsed. I know that's another enigma to add to all the others. Why didn't they shore the underground up better?" He shrugged. "We don't know. Maybe they never expected weapons of our caliber to be turned on them, although they should have after capturing the Wannstead ship we found there. Maybe they were in the process of doing so and the bracing was in a state of construction and therefore unstable. It doesn't matter now but it may soon, so let's move on.

"One thing we do know now is that the robots are not all the same. The smaller ones appear to be in charge of the larger ones. In Xanadu, there may be a higher hierarchy. It's something we'll have to watch for, particularly since it seems the robots and Worms are fighting smarter the longer the city has been in existence. So, the question arises again, and is the first question on our agenda. Do we really want to head on to Xanadu?"

The room was quiet as people fidgeted. Then Dunaway responded, playing Devil's advocate as a good XO should. "Sir, we already have a ton of intelligence, and we could come back a few years later with much more of an armada-but I think most of us would prefer to take this on now and settle it if we can, especially since they have a bunch of our people as hostages."

"XO, I would tend to agree except for that courier ship we spotted. I'm bothered by the fact it may give Xanadu enough data for it to change its defense plan. However, we have Captain Whittaker of the Santa Cruz. He can go back with our intel once we get to Xanadu and access the situation. We all know this will be extremely dangerous, and I don't want to take this on if the team here has major concerns." Keane gazed around the table, taking in all the persons he had assembled there. He saw Major Rambling frowning and nodded at him. "Major, your opinion, and please feel free to speak candidly. This may be the most important decision of our lives and I need all of your input. We could just head back and regroup, and that's also on the table."

Rambling took a deep breath, looking like he was missing a cigar. "Well, sir, frankly speaking, I say fuck these robots and their fat ass Worms! I lost a lot of good marines from those robots that escaped, not to mention the ones who died fighting in the cities. Speaking purely as a Marine, I think we should take the fight back to them, and if we have to, nuke Xanadu. I say this with the full knowledge of human hostages being held there. If I said this was going to be one hairy sonofabitch, I was wrong. This thing's so hairy a gorilla would look like a baby's ass in comparison now that we know more about it."

A few of the staff laughed at Rambling's word choice. Rambling noticed. "I'm sorry Captain, I may have overstepped my linguistic bounds here. My apologies."

Two of the three women present smiled; they both knew Rambling.

Keane chuckled. "If the ladies can't stand a bit of rough language they have no business on my ship."

"Thank you, sir," Rambling said, then continued a bit uneasily. "Sir, I still want us to bring back all the hostages if we can. My staff and I are putting together some new techniques we hope will help. We want to try, anyway, and if they don't work we can always take our lumps, then back out and let you take care of it."

"Thank you, Major Rambling. And now I'd like to hear what our ship's new Science Officer has to say," Keane said. He looked down the table to Harriette Juenne. He had removed Aguilara and appointed Harriette to the position despite her youth. She had proven her mettle already.

"Sir, I agree with you and Major Rambling, but I believe that the data we have is so vital that we have to think very seriously before taking any chances with the Santa Cruz. I believe we should send her back, given that we have to reconsider our ideas of what we'll be facing at Xanadu. That's unless you're pretty damn certain she will be safe. Otherwise we run the risk of losing both ships when we approach the planet.

"Also, they may even have ships coming our way since the courier ship undoubtedly went directly there. It has surely taken a warning, and perhaps even weapons' intelligence data. These Worms, along with their very advanced robots, apparently have no desire for normal intercourse with humans. We've also come to the conclusion that Xanadu and the other Worm-inhabited planets of the Bolt Cluster represent colonies, not their main civilization. Further, the majority of the scientific staff has come to believe they may look on humans as we would cattle. In light of all that, I think we should destroy the city, sir, before it's too late for humanity."

" Too late? What are you talking about Professor?" asked Keane.

"I mean we should wipe out every Worm and robot in the Bolt Cluster," she said flatly. "Destroy everything they've touched in the cluster, then use the technology we've picked up to help as we begin to prepare Earth for a war to the death."

Ms. Aguilara, the previous science officer, who now worked strictly on alien communication, spoke icily: "I think that might just be a little bit paranoid, Professor. They'd need massive ships, a whole armada of ships to conquer us and our colonies. I seriously doubt it could be done. After all, we seem to be holding our own, or even more, defeating them when we choose to fight. Personally, I don't think we did a very good job at communicating with them. All we did was attack their planets. I would like to propose we try talking with them again, to see if we can set up alien race relations."

Rambling, shocked, accidentally spit out some water he was sipping. " Alien race relations? Jesus Christ ma'am, these things took our people hostage, they turned them into slaves, they've made no attempt at communication despite our every attempt. They've made slaves of humans. They've had a chance to communicate. Despite my protests, Captain Keane intends to try again as we approach Xanadu. What in hell else do you want? I'm more in agreement with Harriette. The only race relations I want is a good nuke after getting our hostages back."

"What! That's genocide," shot back Aguilara.

"That's what they have in store for us lady," replied the Major, looking quite annoyed.

"Ladies and gentleman, I think everyone's opinion is important, but fortunately or unfortunately I get the final say. And I happen to agree with the Major. Ms. Aguilara, can you please return back to your communication work and go over our previous contact protocols? I'll accept your recommendations for any changes to them since what we've broadcast so far has drawn no response. I would like that report by 0600 tomorrow. Understand?" Keane looked pointedly at her and she got the hint.

"Yes sir, 0600," she said, entering the order and time due in her TekPad. "May I be excused now so I can get to work on this?"

"Certainly. Good luck. Despite what you may think, I sincerely hope you succeed. I'd much rather talk than fight." Keane sipped some coffee and looked over at Rambling. "Major, you say you have some special plans for fighting the robots. Tell me your ideas and how we can assist because I've made my decision. We're going to Xanadu to bring back our hostages and take out the enemy if necessary. All in the room in agreement?"

Everyone present nodded affirmatively.

"Good. I suspect you have something creative in mind, because unless Ms. Aguilara succeeds, we're going to be fighting."

"I do sir," Rambling said. "But not that much. Basically I've got teams setting up simulations and devising methods of taking down the robots quickly. From our recordings taken during the fighting, my techs believe the robots are the key to success. We need to take them out as quickly as possible every time we run across them. It's going to cost some casualties and I hate that, but unless the Worms and robots are present in overpowering numbers I believe my marines will prevail, and in the process maybe develop enough intelligence to figure out this fucking enigma. That assumes, of course, that you can provide the conditions to get us to the surface safely and continue to provide air support."

***

It was a good two weeks before Doug got a chance to escape from his regular menial tasks and do some more exploring. It was a frustrating wait, knowing he now had a chance to gain more knowledge that might be useful to the underground and possibly to a ship if-no, when-one returned. One morning he saw Frang and all his family traipse past his Wah, one of their periodic overnight trips which he thought were probably for classes of some sort they had to attend. The trips were most likely on orders from the small robots, if his theory that they were the ones actually running the city was right. Frang brought up the rear as was customary when Sinchik families traveled together. The alpha male always trailed behind. Frang stopped at his Wah for a moment.

"Toug, clean Welshass rooms. Begin now."

"Jah! I obey!" he responded, thinking as usual that he must look and sound somewhat like a Nazi reporting to a superior officer. And it would have felt as demeaning as usual but not this time! With the whole family gone he could do a quick job cleaning their quarters and still have many hours to go exploring. This time he would have a purpose. He wanted to try going further underground. Somewhere down in the maze of tunnels he felt there must be a central command node that governed all the city, Sinchiks and robots included.

He gave the Sinchik quarters a good cleaning then slept the afternoon. He waited until nightfall before going out, knowing there would be few Sinchiks about in the darkness. He easily got to the spot where he had made the last turn before discovering the horrid laboratory. At that location he turned in the opposite direction and began hurrying along a tunnel, all the time looking ahead for one of the alcoves where he could temporarily hide. He stopped at each one, carefully inspecting what was ahead of him, listening for any sounds before dashing quickly down the tunnel for the next alcove, and then another, each a reasonably good hiding spot, waiting a moment again before proceeding. It was tense, dangerous work, but he made himself go on. He had already contacted the underground and passed on the intelligence collected during his previous unintentional excursion, so he felt willing to risk his life.

It had already been a good hour since he'd passed the human testing laboratory-or more accurately, Auschwitz-type experimentation prison. He'd run into robots and had to take a roundabout route until he finally found another ramp leading down. After a long two hundred yard dash into a newer section, Doug peeked out from the alcove where he was hiding and saw in the distance that the tunnel terminated in a tee.

Even with no indentation for concealment, he decided to chance it. He ran to the tee and looked hurriedly in both directions, hoping for an alcove. None was in sight but he noticed that this new tunnel was made of smooth polished metal rather than the regular indifferently molded walls. It was illuminated with an orange lighting system. He thought this tunnel might to be important simply because it was built differently. He took a chance and tapped the wall with the handle of his Swiss army knife he'd managed to hold on to all these years. It gave back a solid thunk, indicating more strength than the usual metal. He became aware of a faint smell, like that of something new and fresh. Perhaps it had been recently built or reinforced? He hurried along and at last found one of the standard alcoves. He stopped to rest and think for a moment.

He decided to proceed rather than turn back. A chance like this might not occur again for weeks. He moved out of the alcove and began walking again. According to the twinges in his calf muscles he thought he was still heading down. Another five-minute walk and the tunnel again branched in a tee. He went back over his route in his mind so he would be sure to remember how to get back. One leg of this tee was definitely built at an upward slope. He thought for a moment and took it, mainly because a short distance ahead he saw a brighter light. He walked forward and found himself standing in an archway leading into a brightly lit room.

He felt the excitement of a major discovery because in the middle of the room were three large gravitic coils. He recognized them although they were a different, and obviously a more advanced, type of coil. So far as he knew, Earth's technology hadn't advanced to the stage of tractor beams powerful enough to capture a ship, but this had to be what it was. Next to the coils were long gold rods that exited through the roof. He thought they must be feeds to up the gravitic capacitors providing power to the focusing mechanisms near the surface. Jackpot! With knowledge of this location, a ship from Earth could possibly disable the tractor beam before it could be activated. Or maybe the underground could sabotage it. It would take something on the order of a penetration missile from a ship, armed with a powerful warhead to disable this apparatus, especially since the room looked to be well buttressed and armored. Sabotage would be best and it would be a huge blow to the city's defenses. This type of giant apparatus wouldn't be easy to replace.

What he needed to do was set up a plan for some of his troops to bring explosives and blow the damned thing up at the first sign of a new ship from Earth arriving. The task of exactly how to disable the cannons was something that his technicians could figure out later. Someone in the underground must know and the resistance did have some improvised explosive devices. He was sure it could be done but first he had to get back and inform the team.

Doug also knew he needed to contact Clemmie and not just to be sure she got this information. He thought he had fallen in love with her and hoped they'd somehow be able to be together again. He had a radio, and so did she, and they had picked one time per cycle of Xanadu's larger moon to call if it was warranted. The next cycle was one day away. Doug left the gravity generating room and headed back to his Wah. He needed to get back before his owner returned. Suspicions would not be good, and he could not let this find go to waste.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Here are the Formulas

I've been ordered to take you down to the bridge. Here I am, brain the size of a planet and they ask me to take you down to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction? 'Cos I don't.

-Marvin the robot

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Just prior to the last conference before exiting hyperspace into the Xanadu system, Keane was speaking with Major Rambling in his cabin and finalizing the plans for taking on the major alien city. The formula was very simple: neutralize the Xanadu's air and space defenses, land the marines, fight their way into the city, find the hostages, get them back to the Doc Travis and blow up the city with the thermo-nuke after obtaining all the intelligence possible, and do all this without risking the ship. Afterward, get the hell out and back to Earth to tell them they had an interstellar war to fight.

"Sir, I've been really concerned that the robots, now that we know how advanced they are, might try to hack into our communication systems. Would it be possible for the ship to change the crypto codes? We could use an older, but very secure transmission methodology my intelligence officer has worked out with Eve. She says it will probably be more secure than what we have now and she's also willing to tack on a safety feature, a firewall if you will, that'll make certain it's us talking to her rather than an imposter."

Keane chuckled. "If Eve tells you it's okay, who am I to argue. She's probably a hell of a lot smarter than both of us put together."

"Ah, if only she ...no, that's daydreaming. Besides, I have a girlfriend. Also sir, we've worked out on the sims a better method of fire support from the ship."

"Tell me about it."

"Yes, sir. Basically, I want my XO to man an assault shuttle and get in close to the planet for pin-point bombing. It will be kind of risky for her but she's willing and it won't take much to work up one of the shuttles for her to use. In fact, the job is almost done. We think, and the sims show it, that it will be more effective than trying to control fire directly from the ship. She'll be closer and can see the action better but the most telling part is her experience. She's a damned fine marine with lots of background. Matter of fact, the sims show she's the best one for the job. Of course she'll relay her requests directly to your fire control officer. All we need is your approval."

Keane rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Steel, I always like to try to give the guys on the ground anything they want where combat is concerned, since I know I'm not anything near as competent in it as you and any number of other marines. In this case though, are you sure you'll be better off with Cindy in the shuttle rather than working with June on fire control from the control room? Isn't there anyone else qualified?"

Rambling looked pained. "I know what you're concerned about, Captain. I wouldn't want to lose her but jobs like these are what she's trained for. She can do it better than anyone else I have available."

Keane nodded. "So long as you're sure. I'd hate to lose her, too," he added before thinking how that might sound. He went on quickly, "We'll work it all out during the conference since they'll both be there." After settling the matter, Keane began wondering if he was the one letting sentiment interfere with duty. He knew he had mentally cringed at the thought of Cindy being directly exposed to enemy fire in a shuttle. "But first, I do have a concern. Won't this throw you short a shuttle?"

"Ordinarily it would, sir, but the shuttles can carry more than their design loads easily. Also, since we've had a number of casualties, that leaves more space. In short, that won't be a problem. And since Xanadu is our last objective, we'll be going all out, won't we?"

"Within reason, Steel, but I don't want more of your marines shot up just for a limited return. If you know you're going to take casualties, make sure the objective is worth it."

"Will do, and that's my sentiment anyway. And by the way, we've been spending some of the extra time to beef up the shuttle we'll be using with advanced stealth shielding. I wish we had the material to improve them all like that, but we're out of a major component."

Keane had decided to slow down the voyage to Xanadu and to exit from hyperspace at the very edge of the system, giving them some more time before coming in range of the city's defenses. He was glad to see Rambling had been using it in a favorable manner but then he would have expected it of the man anyway.

"Okay, Steel, if there's nothing more for now I'm going to take an hour for a nap. I'll see you in the Captain's conference room at ..." he glanced at this thumb. " ...at 1400. And I think we had better have Harriette and Brian Wannstead, too. That sound okay?"

"Good by me. They're both sharp people. Maybe they can come up with some more ways of killing robots."

***

The nap and a quick shower refreshed him. As Keane walked back toward his day cabin he found Cindy standing there by the hatchway with her auburn hair looking like it had just been washed and dried. Her slim petite body stood almost at attention. He could have sworn he saw the shape of her nipples pushing at the blouse of her fresh fatigues. She had to be wearing a bra -didn't she? Keane thought there was a regulation about woman officers wearing bras but wasn't sure. Some of the new halters were so thin it didn't matter much anyhow. He couldn't help but stare appreciatively and smile, losing track of time. Cindy smiled back. She smelled like a sweet rose garden.

Cindy finally broke the silence. "So, Captain, are you going to let me in, or do you plan on having me stand in the hallway until I figure out the secret code?"

Had she been waiting on him? "No code required. My CPO controls it all. She even lets me inside once in a while."

Cindy chuckled as he pushed open the hatch.

The others, Rambling, Cindy, June, Wannstead, Harriette and Kean's main officers had all arrived early. CPO Mura had coffee, tea and snacks already out and arranged. She seated officers, noncoms and civilians as they arrived and made sure everyone had TekPads at their elbows. She was nothing if not efficient.

Keane waited until Cindy found her seat and two other late arrivals showed up and then took the head of the table. "Ladies, gentlemen, this will be our last formal conference before coming out of hyperspace. I have nothing specific on the agenda but I would like each department head to give a brief summary of any concerns or developments some of us may not have been apprised of yet.

"Our basic battle plan has been pretty much finalized and I know all of you have been working to exhaustion in order to try making it foolproof. Of course we all know that isn't possible, if for no other reason than that nasty little gremlin, Murphy, who always finds a way to make his presence known. Murphy is the main reason for the truism that: 'No battle plan survives contact with the enemy'. What we want to do is be ready to change our plans at an instant's notice and be ready to take advantage of any occurrences where Murphy decides to play for the other side." He was rewarded with chuckles and a few outright laughs for that statement.

"Now then, Major Rambling has some last minute updates for us. Major?"

"Thank you, Captain. Actually, there are two. First, we've decided on the basis of recordings and after-battle briefings that the smaller of the two classes of robots we've seen are probably the most dangerous opponents. We believe they are in control of the larger robots, and both my marines and your scientists think it's possible they even control the Worms through an implant. All the Worms autopsied so far have one implant in their brains. It's possible we may not even see any Worms in Xanadu but I don't think it likely.

"I do expect to see fewer than our original projections, based on all our experience and findings so far. On the other hand, we're expecting to see more robots of both classes-and possibly a new class altogether, considering that Xanadu should be a completed city by this time. Of course all our conjectures are problematical. What we may find at Xanadu remains an enigma but we're preparing on the basis of what we've seen so far.

"What this means for the marines is that after Doc Travis neutralizes the city's air and space defenses, we'll be assaulting the city proper. To that end we're going to use one specially outfitted shuttle to coordinate close air support and another for direct support. We want to get our marines down beneath the surface of the city and hunt for whoever or whatever is controlling the city, whether it's a master robot, a giant Worm, or a central node that reports to yet another planet, possibly the original home of the Worms or robots, whichever came first. I know it sounds dramatic but the whole future of mankind may depend on what we discover at Xanadu and I believe Captain Keane agrees with that."

Keane simply nodded that he did.

"Now any of you who have seen footage of our previous contact with robots in combat are wondering how less than six hundred marines intend to defeat thousands of robots, aren't you?" He grinned ferociously. "I wouldn't blame you. They're hard to kill, but we've learned and we have three ways to come at them now. First is the close air support I spoke of. The shuttles will be armed with some innovations to our classic weaponry such as penetrating fragmentation grenades embedded with sharp ended projectiles designed to pierce the robot CPUs. Next are marine snipers armed with our heaviest rifles, .50 caliber Barretts. Our regular snipers will be carrying the new M107, which have a longer range and use a new type of cartridge that penetrates then explodes. Don't ask me what it was originally designed for because I don't know, but it's a deadly sumbitch. And besides our regular snipers we've formed two auxiliary units that will use the old Barretts, which believe me are still potent weapons. They'll handle close encounters with the small robots in classic urban warfare mode. The barrels of the rifles will be cut short for easy handling while fighting.

"And last, we have two other special units just organized. They will carry unique jamming equipment we hope will be effective against the frequencies the robots use for communication." He paused as if gathering his thoughts, sipped at his coffee, and added a last comment. "There's also the human underground we hope will be able to provide us with help in locating the main concentrations of Worms and robots and their defenses, whatever and wherever they are. I can't honestly say they will be a big help but we do have volunteers from former captives who will be with the assault formations of marines. If they can make contact with the underground right at the beginning of hostilities it could give us a tremendous advantage, but as I say, we'll hope they help but not count on it. And I believe that's all I have."

"That's quite a lot, Steel," Keane said. "And it's a hell of a lot more than we had going in last time. Good work." He turned to Brian Wannstead and Harriette, who were sitting next to each other on purpose in order to better lend support to each other if necessary. "Now let's see what our ship wizards have for us. Which of you wants to lead off?"

Harriette nodded her head at Brian. His gaze tracked around the assemblage at the conference table and came to rest on Thomas Berry, COB and senior enlisted man of the Doc Travis. "I have to give credit to our Senior Master Chief for the one additional innovation Harriette and I have come up with. Since I was involved with the construction of Doc Travis right from the beginning I thought I knew more about the ship than anyone else on board, but the Bosun comes close to me and in fact, in one particular area, he's proved he knows more. I'm speaking of our defenses. Our shielding is now about as tight as we can get it so far as resisting laser and plasma weapons, or even nukes, but our biggest weakness remains solid matter penetration. So far the worms-or robots, take your pick-haven't used anything like a rail gun or artillery fired into orbit against us. Lucky for us because our meteoroid shield has been just that, a defense against meteors. It wouldn't have given us much protection against those weapons.

"The Bosun called me on the matter and suggested a solution that may help if we do have to defend the ship against rail guns, for instance. Would you like to explain, Master Chief?"

"I believe you could probably do better with the math than me, sir."

"Alright. Basically, what the COB suggested was strengthening the complete shell of Doc Travis." He grinned as he saw the reaction. "I know, it doesn't sound feasible without the facilities of a shipyard, does it? I thought so, too, but the Chief changed my mind. You see, the shell is composed of overlapping plates welded together, just as all interstellar ships are. What the Chief did was demonstrate a technique he and his machinists worked out for making the overlaps into a seal rather than a weld.

"What he and his crew did was experiment with the "rubber metal", as they call it, which is used in a lot of the alien cities and in the treads of the robots. They took samples and ran an exhaustive analysis of them with damn near every instrument in the ship's inventory, as well as some they cobbled up to fit the circumstances. The elasticized metal, as we superior types have been calling it ..." he waited for the expected laugh and got it. " ...proved a tough nut to crack but they did it. At first we identified the constituent elements through a spectral analysis, but the formula compound was hard to figure out. We eventually got it, though." He displayed a series of equations and explained them to his audience. "However, that wasn't enough to make the material."

Keane was foggy on his chemistry, but knew if you had the formula, you had most of the problem solved. "Lieutenant, a chemical compound formula should be enough for Eve to design a method of working with it-shouldn't it?"

"Sir, it's kind of like knowing the formula H2O. Most of us think of this as water. If I told you to make it solid, we all know we need to get it below thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit to turn it into ice. Now we all know this because we know ice. We got the formula, but this material from the planet was layered in nano-sheets, and they somehow crisscrossed the molecules so that you got elasticity with the strength two hundred times that of steel, similar to an Earth product called graphene-which we can't produce on Earth in any real large quantities because it's very expensive-except for the military. Plus, they somehow knitted in another component to make it flexible, like rubber." Again he displayed equations and formulas.

"Long story short, Eve found a way to take our graphene stores and some of our inventory of a component similar to spider silk, of all things. By charging the hull sections we want to protect, Eve can coat those areas with rubberized metal through a process of atomic layer deposition. We basically paint on graphene paint, charge the sections we want to protect, and then spray on the compound of metal rubber. It'll create the lattice structure that'll protect the ship in those areas. We only have enough of the graphene paint to do about half of the ship though."

"That's great work," said Keane.

"That's not all Captain. We also found that when we produced the material under a heavy magnetic field in the presence of very high heat source, with all of the processes very precisely gauged, the team found they could actually meld the plates of the shell together into an ultra-strong alloy. It's better than piecemeal protection. We might be able to do the whole bottom side in one shot. It's painstaking, finicky work but if you'll allow us an extra two days the Chief says he can turn the shell of the ship into something that'll resist rail gun fire. Here are the final formulas." Brian projected a series of equations to an overhead screen.

Harriette took over and began explaining from the beginning but soon lost most of her audience. She was still lecturing away when Keane interrupted. "Um, Ms. Juenne, I believe you and Brian have made your point." He shifted his attention to Berry. "Chief, will there be any danger to the ship in converting the shell into the new alloy?"

"No, sir. Like the Lieutenant said, it's just tedious. My boys can handle it, though. And frankly, Captain, they're more than willing to get started since they saw that schematic from the second city that looked as if it was the beginning phase of construction for housing the type of magnets necessary for rail gun construction. They aren't enthusiastic over having their ship hit by one of those suckers, sir. And just to reiterate, we can't do the whole shell. What we want to work on are the overlaps and the areas around parts of the ship which are utterly necessary for functioning, such as the control room, our weaponry, and the gravitics and quantum drive. It will leave about half the ship in its original state, but even if we get hit repeatedly I doubt anything like a rail gun can put us out of action. We may take casualties but the ship will be able to keep fighting."

"Great, Chief. Okay, you have my permission to proceed and you're in charge. Brian, you and Harriette will work for the Chief until the project is complete."

If anyone thought it strange for a Senior Master Chief to be in charge of a Lieutenant, Senior Grade and the Chief Scientist of the ship they kept their mouth shut. Keane delivered the command with utter sincerity.

It took another two hours to go around the table but mostly it was summaries and the time was spent making sure that the different departments were all on the same page. Finally he called it to an end with an order for the astrogator to exit hyperspace even farther out from the primary than originally intended. He then ordered Bogarty to begin searching for the beacon from the Santa Cruz as soon as they were in normal space. With that, the assemblage began filing out of the room. Keane caught Cindy's eye and made a very small motion of his head, hoping she would catch his meaning. Either she did or she had intended to hang back while the others left anyway. As soon as the rest of the contingent was out of hearing range he took the step, trying to still his pulse rate as he did. "Cindy, would you care to join me in a drink?"

"Of course, Captain. I'd love to."

He led the way toward his day cabin without speaking. He nodded to several officers and the occasional rating they passed until arriving at the cabin. He punched the code and the hatch opened. As usual, CPO Mura was there to meet him.

"Wanna, would you see if you can find some of that special brandy for us? Oh, wait." He turned to Cindy. "You do drink brandy?"

"Certainly. It's been a while, though. The marine mess doesn't stock a wide variety of liquor."

"Then you have a surprise coming." He led her through the alcove of the cabin and into the interior, which was furnished much like a living room. He gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat."

"Thank you."

Mura returned with a bottle of XO Brandy and snifters. As she poured, the marine executive officer's eyes widened.

"Will that be all, sir?" Mura asked.

"Yes, thank you, Wanna. We'll be fine."

The CPO departed, as serene and unsurprised as ever. Keane smiled fondly at her back before the door to the interior closed. A moment later he heard the sound of the hatch closing as well. Trust the Chief to make certain he wasn't disturbed.

"Is that what I think it is, Captain?"

"Yes, it is. I got that from the Secretary of the Navy. Rambling and I had a sip earlier. It's every bit as good as word of mouth had it to be. As you probably know, they don't advertise. "

She took a small sip. "Mmm. It certainly does live up to its reputation, Captain."

He took another step. "Please call me Trent when we're alone. If you feel comfortable with that?"

"Of course I do."

"Thank you. I don't entertain much but I felt the need to unwind a bit. I appreciate you joining me." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how formal they sounded, not at all what he intended. He felt himself blushing as he realized it. Damn it, it had been too fucking long since he entertained a woman and he had never been a gadabout anyway. Maybe this whole idea had been a mistake.

She looked at him askance. He knew she noticed his red face. "Trent, I'm very happy that you asked me. In fact, I've been desperately hoping you would."

"Really? Um, I mean I'm glad. I wanted ..." he stalled, not knowing what he intended to say. Instead, he took a big gulp of his brandy, not really the way to appreciate a brand of its stature.

Cindy laughed. At first he thought she was laughing at him but then realized she was simply amused at something. He raised a questioning brow.

"Oh," Cindy said, still smiling wide. "Just thinking that you offered Major Rambling a sip of the good stuff but not the Marine XO whose life he's putting on the line with her new mission."

"My apologies but you're drinking it now," he said. "I am sorry I waited so long, though."

"I agree. Trent, I'm a big girl. You don't have to treat me like I'll break if you touch me. And frankly speaking, I'd prefer to have you a little closer than the end of the couch while we relax and talk about something other than work."

Keane came over close to her, bringing his snifter with him. He sipped his drink and smiled. "I'll drink to that, Cindy. Relaxing and getting away from duties for a time is important ....so tell me, what are your plans when we get back to Earth?"

"Well ...I was thinking that I'd like to take a vacation with this Navy Captain that I know."

Keane's heart sunk. Did Cindy have a boyfriend that he didn't' know about? That would make sense, she was gorgeous, and as a Captain in the Marines she could date a Navy Captain without there being a chain of command issue. Was she joking? "Oh, that's great, I'm sure you would have a great time, I always love a vacation after these long trips. Where are you two planning to go?"

Cindy laughed. "Trent, you really have been out of circulation, for a while, haven't you? I thought we could take a trip together to Hawaii, and do some snorkeling, fishing, and maybe even some nude sun bathing. That is, if you'd like to join me for that kind of adventure. And of course that assumes we all make it out alive tomorrow."

Although Cindy was smart, pretty and an officer, she still had that directness that was somehow built into the Marines. It was refreshing. Keane laughed and felt his body and mind begin losing the tenseness built up over a long period of time. He held up his mostly empty glass: "Cheers! It sounds great. And don't worry. I'll get us back home."

He touched glasses with her and they emptied the snifters. She moved closer to him. He reached an arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him, her face only an inch or so away. Her sweet rose-laden perfume flooded his senses. Her breasts softened against him. He kissed her. She met him eagerly. Her lips parted and her tongue met his. He tightened his arm around her. The kiss went on and on, giving him time to move his hand to her breasts and feel how unconfined they were and how firm they felt under his fingers.

When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, her chest heaved. "For God's sake, don't you have a bed in here somewhere? I'd just as soon we start our vacation today!"

He stood up and reached his hand out, helping her to her feet. He led her into the little bedroom where he sometimes took a nap rather than going back to his stateroom. The bed there wasn't king sized but it was adequate, he found. Very adequate indeed with Cindy sharing it with him as well as sharing her body.

A long while later he managed to raise himself up on one elbow and gaze at her, lying unabashedly nude and staring languidly back up at him. He smiled appreciatively. "Cindy, Sweetheart, if this doesn't relax me, nothing will!" He bent to kiss her, stretched out and was almost instantly asleep.

***

"Why so despondent, lover?" Barbara asked as Bullet entered her little stateroom, his face grim.

He shucked his fatigue jacket and sat down beside her on the narrow bed. "It's the goddamned sims! They're killing me."

"What's wrong? Are they too hard, you think?"

He stroked his face. "No, I mean they're killing me. Today makes three times in a row I got killed assaulting those fucking little robots in tight quarters. I'm afraid they're going to take my Barrett away from me after all the trouble I went to qualify with it."

Barbara wondered if she should tell him how purposely hard the simulations involving close combat with the sawed off Barretts had been made. She had been one of the consultants the electronics techs had used to design the new war games and she wanted the participants to get killed more often than not. It would make the special squads using the Barretts more alert in real combat and more careful, too. No, she decided. If I told him he might loosen up too much and get killed for real when the fighting got tough.

Instead she put her arm around him. "Don't worry, Bullet, baby. They're made hard for a purpose. You'll do fine when it goes down. For now, though, I think you need a backrub. Lay down and turn over. No, lummox! Take your clothes off first. You think I'm going to stop with a back rub?"

He laughed and stripped off the rest of his clothes. An hour later he was sleeping peacefully and now she was the one snuggled against his back and doing the worrying. Damn it, there was a limit to the number of robots they could face and still come out on the winning side. They'd better kill a lot of the fuckers before sending us in, she thought.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Devil's Den

I was involved in 1979 in a firefight with alien humanoids and I was one of the survivors. I'm probably the only talking survivor you will ever hear. Two other survivors are under close guard. I am the only one left that knows the detailed files of the entire operation. Sixty- six secret service agents, FBI, Black Berets and the like, died in that firefight. I was there.

-Philip Schneider, ex-government structural engineer, died of suicide soon after above comments.

"Captain, I'm picking up a signal, it looks like it's coming from what appears to be an old Xtron Satellite, but it's unusual."

"Why's that Lieutenant?"

"Well sir, for one, the Satellite powered up when the Doc Travis approached. It must have picked up our IFF broadcast and then turned on, like it was waiting for a Space Navy ship to pass by before activating."

Keane's eyes perked. "Why would they do that? That Xtron should have a fifty year life span, and with solar power available, up to one hundred or so. It doesn't need to wait."

"Don't know sir, it appears that someone wanted it to look dead until a friendly came by. Possibly a stealth mode satellite setting. Maybe they didn't want any hostiles to pick it up."

"Well, with the Worm and their robots, I can understand that reasoning. It might have been from an earlier Wannstead ship. Does it have any intel or planetary transmissions?"

"Yes, but it's in a code that Eve hasn't seen before. It's repeating. About a two gig message. I'll send it down to the com lab. Maybe someone there can decipher it. Boy, whatever is in that message, they sure didn't want anyone to easily crack it. This thing looks like an old 256K triple key cipher. I'm not sure we can solve this thing. Could take years."

This must be important, Keane thought, maybe even important enough to wait for a translation before heading to Xanadu. "Lieutenant, see if Professor Juenne can get on it. I have a suspicion she can figure it out. She has one of her PhDs in cryptology."

"Will do sir."

"And in the meantime, keep looking for a beacon from the Santa Cruz. She should be somewhere in the system, out here on the edges of it with us."

***

"This is a classic code trick. Anyone who hasn't studied human history of cryptology could spend their whole life breaking this thing," Harriette said to PO Josey, her electronics tech.

Josey looked at the codes she had punched up. "Prof, that's a standard 256K triple code cipher. What do you see that I don't?"

"It's set up to look like a 256K cipher, but I think whoever put this together used a one-time code. If you translate the first code set, it's ASCII. Can you read the first line?"

"Oh my God, you're right. That section isn't a code at all, it's ...be damned, it's ASCII in binary. My ASCII is kind of rough ... Eve, overlay the old Earth ASCII code set over the first eight hundred binary characters."

Harriette and PO Josey watched as sentences appeared. The words wrote: " The Bard of Avalon is the single key to truth. He who doth not have such human knowledge of the Romeo of life, hath not the hidden pad from a maN named reV."

"Who the hell is the 'Bard of Avalon'?" Josey asked. His young face was screwed up in a frown.

She smiled. "You should have picked that up from the word Romeo. You heard of Romeo and Juliet?"

"Shakespeare? The Bard of Avalon is Shakespeare?"

"That was his nick name in England."

"So, he's the key to truth, or should I say, this code."

"That's my guess. And I have a suspicion it's what they call a 'one-time-pad' key. The reference to the hidden pad. Also, the person who wrote this gave the inventor name to confirm the solution."

The Petty Officer was impressed not only by how good looking Harriette was, but by the fact she actually was as smart as people said. Probably even smarter. He was somewhat embarrassed to admit to himself that he was physically attracted to her. "Professor, I never heard of anyone in code breaking named 'Rev', plus I think we had some data issues. The words 'man' and 'rev' have capitals at the end."

"For God's sake, Josey, my name is Harriette. Use it, okay? And I thought that was a problem too, but if you turn them around so that the capitals are in front, where they should be, what do you get?"

"You get 'Nam Ver", or wait, you mean 'Ver Nam', Vernam! The person who invented the one time pad! Wow! That's it! The Romeo and Juliet novel is the one time pad code!"

"Yep, and all we need to do is mix in Romeo and Juliet text via ASCII, and we should be able to translate the data. The online library will surely have a copy."

"Uh, Harriette, that's great. Let's get cracking!"

***

"So, what did the satellite have to say?' Keane asked as soon as Harriette appeared at the control room hatch and had signed in. Rambling, Brian Wannstead, and the regular control room officers were present. Everyone was anxious to hear the decoded message from the old satellite.

"I'll play the voice section sir." Harriette hit the holo screen's voice-on button. First there was static, then a man's voice: "This is Josh Nash and Phil Miller of the Wannstead Athena , beaming report to Satellite WJ2. We are about fifty clicks out from the alien city Xanadu in the Xanadu system. We were fired on from the city and disabled and then caught by a kind of ...well, tractor beam is the best I can describe it ... and brought down very near the city. On the way down Captain Wilson ordered our shuttle to try launching from the ship. It partially succeeded but the tractor beam caught it, too. We broke loose right before the ship was grounded and managed to get this far before crashing. Apparently, the beam affected our thrusters. We're been found by alien creatures and robot type helpers and have maybe five to ten minutes to transmit. We advise to avoid this planet. The aliens are dangerous. Do not approach closer than a thousand kilometers. Make that fifteen hundred to be safe. We have destroyed all ship star charts, and wiped all our computer files and archives as part of the non-lethal self-destruct required by Wannstead. The ship's computers were also wiped as per Wannstead security protocol. The captain's last words were: "We cannot let this race reach Earth. They fired on us without warning despite days of contact protocols being broadcast and ...wait...we've been located ...we're going to fight. Have to go ...This is our first, last and only upload. Josh out-may God help us all!"

During the last few words, the sound of gunfire could be heard, then crashing noises, screams, and finally silence.

Keane looked over to the team. "We knew this would be tough. Unfortunately for those poor folks, they didn't have a clue."

Major Rambling shook his head. "If we didn't need more intelligence so bad I'd say just nuke the bastards and get it over with."

"I tend to agree with you, Major. But if there're still living hostages, I'm sure you agree that we want to get them. And I believe we must try to find out more about this damned enigma." He laughed mirthlessly. "Hell, you ask me, they should have named this place Enigma instead of Xanadu."

"The last thing I want to do is leave anyone to the mercies of the aliens, Captain. They aren't marines but they're humans, and marines don't like leaving anyone behind or unaccounted for."

Keane spoke soberly: "Steel, I think our friends on Xanadu are looking forward to meeting your troops."

Rambling grinned like a shark, not saying a word but thinking: Oh yeah, Oorah! They'll be looking forward to meeting me and my troops like you look forward to getting your face punched in by a rushing train. These were some evil bastards and he now knew for certain they would be facing opposition. Up until now they were relatively certain of it but now they knew. It made a difference. He looked directly-and grimly-at Captain Keane, hoping his superior wouldn't take it the wrong way. "Oh yes sir, I'm looking forward to meeting our friends on Xanadu. I most certainly am!"

"Good, we should get going as quickly as possible, as soon as we hear from Santa Cruz. Since Xanadu is farther away in its orbit than we anticipated, that might take up some more time. If so, use it for training. I'm going to run some exercises for the ship, too. And after some thought, and in light of the intelligence from the satellite, I propose we execute Xanadu Plan Overload, I think it's the best of the three approaches the sims gave us. What do you think, Major?"

"It's the one I'd use sir, especially in light of our current situation and knowing they've almost certainly been warned by that little ship of theirs that got away."

"Good, that's what we'll do, then."

***

Doug made it back to his Wah with no trouble, but now he needed to get the knowledge of the source of power to the tractor beam to the rest of the underground. He felt inordinately pleased with himself. After so long a time when it appeared that the underground was making little or no progress, vital information was now available to help any ship from Earth rescue them. Doug took a chance, leaving a message at a regular drop point, and snuck out the next night at 2:00 am, when the Sinchik's sleep was deepest. He met with his rag-tag rebel comrades under the bright light of two of Xanadu's three moons. All the way to their meeting place, just inside the edge of the cultivated area where tall fruit trees grew, he thought of Clemmie and how much he would like to see her. He cut that distraction short as he approached his second in command, Sue Nakamura. "Hi Sue."

The fifth generation Japanese American was tall, almost six feet. She hugged Doug with warm, genuine affection. "You're a crazy man Doug. I read your log yesterday. You could have gotten killed."

"I know, but we need to take some calculated risks if we're ever getting off this rotten world."

"From what I read, it's rotten to the core. That underground lab you saw, that's unbelievable."

He walked with Sue toward a makeshift tent under the trees, pausing to grab a tomapple to munch on during the meeting. Their camouflaged canopy dropped to the ground, giving almost complete cover. An area inside been cleared of leaves and branches, and had collapsible tables and racks of equipment set up.

"Sue, believe it. The Sinchiks and robots are studying humans like guinea pigs in a cage. Actually, I think it's the robots doing the studying. We rarely see Sinchiks down there according to what I've been told. Since I found out about the tunnel system and all the functions carried out beneath the city, I'm convinced the robots are evil. Something about all this stinks. I'm not sure if the robot's were created by the Sinchik and took power or if they're simply tools built by the Sinchik or an earlier race or what, but I really don't care who's in charge other than knowing which ones to fight first when the time comes."

"Oh, I think the time to strike has come." Seeing his puzzled look, Sue asked, "You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

Sue walked Doug over to the communications table. Old radios, com sets, and various other parts of communication equipment sat there. Each piece was kept by one person and brought to the clandestine meetings so that discovery of one rebel wouldn't mean losing all their desperately hoarded equipment, most of it taken from the remains of their ship by dangerous night excursions. "See the field com over there? It's got a transponder, and it hasn't been lit since we were captured. It is now."

"Oh my God! There's another ship coming!"

"Calm down Doug, it only came on yesterday when we had it up for its regular test. We have no idea yet if the ship is a civilian or navy vessel, or whether it's exploring or has come to fight. So don't get too excited yet."

His spirits had quickly soared and now they dropped just as fast. And yet the steady glow of the transponder light gave him hope for the first time in nearly two decades. "Got it. But we have to take the chance to attack the gravity generators for their tractor beam, and hope the ship is a rescue vessel. Otherwise how long do we wait, second guessing ourselves?"

Now Sue was wrong footed. "You know where the tractor beam is? How? When? Doug, your report didn't say anything about-"

"Hold it!" he said, putting up his hands in a warding gesture. "I found the gravity generators when I sneaked out two days ago. That's why I called the meeting tonight. We need to get this out, as well as the news about the new ship, too. Everyone gather round and let me show you. I've drawn a map but I want you all to memorize this, not carry around anything in writing. After you're sure you have the location in your head, we can talk about how to coordinate the knowledge with Clemmie's discovery of the rail guns intended to combat approaching ships."

After every member assured him they had the location memorized he moved on to the rest of the agenda he had ready, including a plan to sabotage the generators. He thought that was the first priority.

"Me and Helen can take care of it, Doug," Jordan Leatherman, a former explosives technician with Wannstead Industries said. "We've been waiting for something real good to use our Clatismite on. Tonight, while the location is still fresh in our minds."

"You're sure you have it?"

"If you drew the map right, we've got it," Helen said.

"As best as I could. Thanks, guys. And come back, you hear?"

Leatherman didn't answer. He slipped his arm around his wife and Helen leaned into the embrace. Doug knew they had about a fifty-fifty chance of getting back after setting off their store of Clatismite, hidden for so long and so carefully.

"I assume you tried to call the ship with the com?" he asked Sue.

"Yes, we tried," she said. "But it appears that the Sinchiks have some kind of SAT firewall system that blocks all codes, and we don't know how to bypass it."

Doug grinned. "Why not just send all our data to the old Wannstead satellite? It should still be active. It had a nuclear power source good for at least fifty years operation." He frowned. "Wait, though. We'd need to know where its orbit is now. Damn."

"Maybe I can help," Jankica Duroski said. She was a thin nervous woman with graying hair who rarely said much but could always be depended on to carry out orders, no matter how difficult. Her husband had been killed during the takedown of their ship.

"How so?"

"I know where and when it was deployed, and into what orbit. All I have to do is calculate where it should be now and you point your transponder in that direction."

Doug was astounded. "You can do that?"

Jankica gave him one of her rare smiles. "I have an eidetic memory, remember? And I can work most math problems in my head."

Doug grinned happily. "Go to it, then!"

Jankica closed her eyes and sat very still for long moments other than moving her lips in conjunction with a subaudible murmur as she ran through innumerable calculations in her mind. When she opened her eyes, she drew out a wrinkled piece of paper and the stub of a pen. She wrote out the coordinates of where she had calculated the satellite to be at this time of night. Fortunately, the satellite happened to be positioned where the rotation of the planet allowed it to be contacted for the next three hours.

"Right! Let's give it a shot," Sue said enthusiastically. She hugged Jankica, then got to work. She connected the only space-worthy com unit known to exist by the underground to its power source. Its screen lit up with a display. Doug had to think back to remember what all the symbols meant, but with most of his wing of the underground present and contributing, he finally got it straight. After that it was only a matter of getting the broadcast beam pointed in the right direction. Once that was done he began reciting every pertinent bit of data the combined efforts of the group thought might help an avenging ship defeat the forces arrayed against them in Xanadu. He then asked for a response at set times. He set it to repeat at fifteen minute intervals until the rotation of Xanadu put the satellite out of reach.

"That's it, folks. Now we need to keep broadcasting every day and hope they give us a shout at the times we've requested. Sue, I guess you've got the duty of listening and keeping possession of the com. It's strictly volunteer. If you don't want to take the chance, we'll find someone else." He would have taken on the task himself except for Frang being so nosy. The Sinchik entered his Wah at least once a day to snoop around, almost as if he believed Doug belonged to a conspiracy. Of course if that were true, Doug would have been removed long since.

"I'll do it. It's my chance to get back at those devils, no matter what the risk." She sat down by the unit to wait until the broadcast had repeated for the last time that day. Doug knew she had lost her lover to the Sinchik. A robot and two Sinchiks had come one day and dragged him off. She never saw him again.

"Okay, folks, I think we'd better break this up and get back to our Wahs," Doug said. "We've been here too long as is. Sue, you be careful, hear?"

"I will."

He knew his injunction was basically senseless but sometimes words were all you had to give a person.

***

"Captain Keane, another message from the satellite just came through!" Lieutenant Bogarty said excitedly from his alcove in the control room.

Keane strode over to him quickly. "What is it?"

"Look, sir." He displayed the message in text.

Keane read it then read it again. "By God! The underground says they've destroyed the city's tractor beam! Talk about some brave sonsofbitches! You've got a recording of the message, I trust?"

"Oh, certainly, Captain. That's routine."

He knew it was but the import of it had drawn the words from him. "Good. Forward a copy to Major Rambling at once. Ask him to call me after he's had a chance to evaluate it."

"Aye, aye, sir." Bogarty responded.

This might make a big difference, Keane thought. Hell, it would make a big difference. Knowing they didn't have to worry about a tractor beam but also finding out that Xanadu was equipped with rail guns designed to fire into space was great news. Without that broadcast, he might have taken his ship directly into a swarm of slugs from the rail gun cannons. And not to be discounted was the confirmation of an active underground, ready to assist the marines when they assaulted the city to rescue the human slaves, as well as the piece of sabotage they'd already carried out!

The one part of the message that sickened him was a short description of the men, women and children wired up like experimental animals in an underground lab. He didn't know whether it would even be desirable to rescue those people. It might be a blessing to simply let them die. But of course he couldn't. That wasn't the way humans were built. While there was hope he would see that everything possible was done for them, assuming they could be rescued.

"Oh yes, Bogy, send a reply to the satellite for relay to the underground at the time they suggested. I'm assuming they're allowing for speed of light and Xanadu's rotation so they'll get it as it comes in. Have it repeat continuously until we receive a reply. My name, ship, time, the usual, then thank them very sincerely and tell them I'll reply in more detail after evaluation of their intelligence. Also, ask them how secure they think this frequency hopping spread spectrum channel is? If they got hold of the Athena com system before it wiped its codes the aliens might have the frequency pattern to pick up our communication. Actually, send an update to change these old codes-confirm with the resistance so we don't lose communication. We can't take the risk they're compromised."

"Aye, aye, sir. Will do."

***

While Keane was waiting on Rambling and mentally going over the intelligence from the underground, he approved the wording of the reply to the satellite and had Bogarty send it. It was a hurried message but necessary to get it out at the time requested. Shortly after his reply was on its way, Bogarty spoke up again.

"Captain, we just received a contact from the Santa Cruz. They've gotten our data dump and Captain Whittaker wants a few minutes for a fast first look at it before speaking to you. They're a bit farther in and about fifteen degrees ahead of us in their orbit. They're coming up on closest approach in about ten minutes. You can have a normal conversation then if you don't mind the thirty seconds or so lag time."

"You're getting all the action today, Lieutenant," Keane said from the Captain's seat he had returned to. "Okay, give him ten minutes then patch me into a circuit."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Ten minutes later on the mark, Bogarty said "Connecting ...Captain Whittaker patched through. It's all yours, sir."

"Thank you, Bogy. I've got it now."

Keane looked at his embedded wrist com. He saw the correct code response. The line was secure and the small screen at his station was secluded. "This is Captain Trent Keane. Is this Captain James Whittaker?"

"Yes, sir, Captain, good to hear your voice."

"Yours too James. We've got a lot of new intelligence to talk over, so let me get to it before something else comes up. It's been a busy time here in the control room the last several hours." He went on to explain some of the nuances of what they'd learned that hadn't been in the data dump, then got into the implications as he saw them so far. "James, you're one of the best war strategists we have. I know you really hate not being able to get in on the action, but as usual if you have any suggestions on the forthcoming hostilities, please don't hesitate to pass them along. Despite the advantages this new data appears to give us, I doubt this is going to be a cake walk, especially for the marines."

"Excuse, me, sir, but why are you saying that? It seems as though with the underground ready to help you get all of the captives and themselves into your hands, you could just back up and pound the city into submission before going back in to look for more alien technology."

"Because the enigma just keeps growing and I've come to feel that doing it that way may lose us the most vital intelligence. Right now we're looking at a hierarchy of robots, with robots possibly in control of the Worms, or maybe the other way around for all we know. Maybe the chips the Worms have imbedded aren't some form of control device allowing the robots to manipulate them. Maybe it's a way for the Worms to control the robots. All we're really sure of is that they communicate by non-vocal methods even though the Worms can speak. Hell, the robots can too, if it comes to that."

"Maybe I'm having an off day, James. I still don't see the problem."

"Probably because you've been standing off watching us. Sometimes I wonder why they didn't give you this ship instead of me. You came out tops in the last war games."

Whittaker replied. "I may be number one in war games, but I'm surely not number one with the Space Navy or the Admiral, even though I did save his ass on the Star Gazer years back. I think they put the best man for the job right where you are. You're better than I am with the down and dirty fighting and calmer during combat then I am. I may be the better strategist but I seem to be missing a couple of brain cells today. So what is it you're after?"

Keane took a moment to organize his thoughts. "James, somewhere in Xanadu there almost has to be a central intelligence node, a central robot, maybe a Super Worm. Hell, maybe a giant artificial intelligence. But something has to be organizing this screwy colonization of the Bolt Cluster, something giving the overall orders. That's what I want to capture, because if we find the central intelligence I think it will have in it archives, files, or whatever, basically a kind of storage containing a history of this place. A recording of the directive from wherever these freaks come from and even more important, maybe we can get a notion of their overall strategy.

"Do they want to conquer the galaxy? Is it just humans or the shape of our ships or something even weirder that pisses them off and makes them fire on us and fight to the death? See, I think we've got to try to find out those things and get the intelligence back to the Admiralty so they can take it to the President and from there to the U.N. James, I believe we're already involved in an interstellar war. You with me?"

"I am now. I'll confess I really hadn't thought that far ahead, nor considered that there might be a directing intelligence hidden beneath Xanadu. If that's what your marines are after, God help them."

"Yeah. No help for it though, not the way I see it. And James, if Doc Travis craters during this go-round you have to take back everything we've gotten so far and make the politicians believe we're in a fight for survival. It's as simple as that. So these are your orders. Withdraw now and head for Earth. You've done what you came for and now you need to get back."

"Got it. We'll be on our way shortly. And good luck, Trent. I think you're going to need it."

"Right. We should be heading into the devil's den about eighteen hundred tomorrow. I'll patch in our status as often as necessary via some long-range comsats for future reference in case we get blind-sided and don't return. We'll launch along the way. I know you don't like it, but I'll repeat, your orders now are to head back to Earth. I know you, so don't try to stay in case we need help. Is that understood, my good friend?"

Whittaker chuckled. "Trent, I'm not going to pull any war games shenanigans. Besides, we didn't come armed for bear. Our ship's fast, and so is our short range scout, but that's about it. We're all counting on you and that crazy bastard of a marine you have on board. Rambling. If they picked the right man for Doc Travis, they did the same for the Marine CO. If he doesn't pack it in along the way he'll wind up as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs."

Keane laughed. "If we win this thing and get back to Earth, I wouldn't doubt it a bit. The man's a piece of work. I'm just glad he's on our side."

"Me too. Well Trent, I really hope this isn't our last goodbye. Godspeed and good hunting my friend."

"You too James. Tell the Navy Secretary that the Cognac he sent was really appreciated. I had a little the other night and it really helped."

"Tell her yourself, Captain. You'll be there," Whittaker said, cutting the connection.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Fire Lasers! Now, now, now!

You will be a minister of death praying for war. But until that day you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit... I am hard but I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless. - Full Metal Jacket (1987)

The first inkling Sue Nakamura had of approaching Sinchiks was the sound of them crashing through the underbrush, coming directly toward her. She picked up the com and began to run. It took only seconds to realize the looming presence in front of her was a Sinchik. They were coming from all sides. She twirled and ran at an angle away from it, hoping to find a clear path through their encirclement. Instead, she stumbled directly into the arms of a large robot. One of its appendages circled her waist in a familiar capture.

She closed her eyes. "Now we meet again, my love," she said. Her hand released its grip on the dead man switch she had activated at the first sound of advancing Sinchiks. The explosion blew her and the robot to bits.

***

"Nothing?" Keane asked.

"I'm sorry, sir," Bogarty said. "It's way past the time when they should have broadcast again."

"Hmm. That puts a crimp into our plans," he said, more to himself than to anyone in the control room. Either the underground operatives manning the com had been caught or they'd had to move. Possibly they were simply under observation and unwilling to do anything suspicious that might attract attention to themselves. Not that it mattered. Doc Travis was moving inward toward the planet of Xanadu, preparing for action. He expected the fight to begin in only a few more hours. In the meantime, he needed to talk to a few people.

"Bosun, can you get someone to take your position for an hour or so? Anita, same for you," he said to Lieutenant Chavez. "And ...Bogy, please com Major Rambling and ask him to bring his XO and First Sergeant and meet me in my day cabin."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Also, I'll need Commander Manheimer and the XO. Notify them, too." He thought for a moment. Was that all? No. "June, I'll want you, too. Come ahead as soon as you can get your relief here." He headed to his cabin without waiting on her answer.

***

As the personnel he'd requested arrived at his day cabin, he gestured to the coffee pot. The liquor stores were secured for the duration. Once they were all seated he nodded to Chief Mura that she could go.

He smiled without humor. "Well, folks, it seems that conferences are a way of life lately, but maybe this will be the last one for a while. What's happened is that we've had no response back from the underground through the satellite relay. I'll confess I was counting on that more than I should have. I feel certain Major Rambling is feeling the loss as well."

The Major grimaced. "I sure am, sir. I was looking forward to having the underground lead us through those warrens beneath the city. They did give us some maps but of necessity they had to estimate distances while in the tunnels since they had no inertial navigators. Now we'll have to use loudspeakers and binoculars to try locating humans before assaulting anywhere but on the surface. If we can't locate them, we'll go down anyway. It'll just be harder."

"And the ship is in a similar pickle. We can't take out their rail guns and laser cannons until they fire on us for fear of destroying exactly the places we want to take intact. Which brings us to the COB. Master Chief, how many rail gun hits can the ship take and still function and fight?"

"A good many, sir. The bulkheads are solid now and all the vital areas have the overlapping plates converted to the alloy seal. Our main area of concern is the hanger bay; it is just too big to completely protect. A couple of hits there with marines in the shuttles ready to launch would be a disaster."

"Tom, I doubt you'd bring this up if you didn't have a solution. Out with it."

"Yes, sir. What I suggest is coming in on the opposite side of the planet from the city and launching the shuttles with the marines from there, and then take the ship on to the city. I know that being fully loaded may run them short of juice for the maneuvering thrusters but hell, sir, if the ship buys the farm they won't be going home anyway."

Keane rubbed his chin. He looked at the others. "Anyone see any flaws there?"

"I like it," Rambling said. "For that matter, why not set the ship down ...no, we'd be out of communication. Besides, I need its firepower to make an assault into the tunnels feasible and for that you have to take out the city's anti-air and space defenses. Okay. Put us out and we'll make a run toward the city and plan on arriving after you've had time to pulverize them good."

"How about if we take laser fire and rail gun hits at the same time? Can the ship still stand up?"

Master Chief Berry shrugged. "Lieutenant Wannstead and Professor Juenne say so and I agree with them. Of course that assumes you neutralize the incoming fire before it does too much harm. You do all realize we will take some damage regardless of what we do unless we're very lucky, don't you?"

The officers and scientist nodded although Keane wasn't certain they really understood. So far the hits on the ship had been shrugged off with no real effect. He doubted they would be as lucky this time. "Anita, you and Jerome are going to have to work very closely together when the shit hits the fan. June is going to require some quick down and dirty maneuvering so we can return fire and destroy their rail guns as quickly as possible. Same for their lasers."

"Sir, may I suggest that you set up a secondary command post with me running it, in case something does get through to the control room?" Dunaway said.

"Good thought. Take June's number one with you and whoever else you think you might need for an alternate command room. Set it up in ...COB?"

"Use your day cabin, sir. It has alternate controls and monitors."

Keane laughed. "Good thought. And let's make a note in the log for Brian to take back to his father. All future navy ships need to be constructed with alternate control rooms. Damn, John. I should have thought of that. Thanks."

There were a number of other issues but none of the same import as the first. After another half hour of analysis a time was set to begin hostilities. No one said anything about contact protocols and Keane wasn't about to bring it up. The enemy had been given all the chances for peaceful intercourse he intended to allow.

***

Doug felt like he had to take the chance. When he picked up the note at the underground drop site the next day telling him of Sue's death, he wanted to grieve but dared not take the time. He had to contact Clemmie and bring the two wings of the underground into contact now. He was desperately hoping the new ship was designed for war and not exploration. In fact, he was counting on it. The destruction of the gravity generators had succeeded, although neither Jordan nor Helen had returned. If the ship didn't attack the city within the next few days and try to free the human slaves, he'd have to take what weapons he had and either retreat to the forest or try to hide in the bowels of the city. Or even on the surface, with Quislings ready to turn him in once the word spread that he was on the run. None of the options appealed to him but he was prepared to take the chance.

As soon as night fell, he gathered his few possessions and left his Wah for the last time. He began the trip across the city toward Clemmie's Wah after leaving a note at the drop telling of his intentions and denoting his replacement commander. He carried his knife and the Sinchik energy gun with the single power pack that had come into his hands years ago. He hoped it was still good. The gauge said so, anyway.

It was slow going. He crept from building to building by using side streets whenever possible, thinking there would be less chance of the stray Sinchik or robot than on the main thoroughfares. It seemed to be working, but it was a tension-filled and tiresome journey. He was getting close to Clemmie's Wah and thought he was going to make it with no problem when he suddenly heard the sound of robot treads behind him. The elastic-like metal of both the street and their treads had allowed it to come too close to get away.

Crap! There was no way to explain his presence in the area to the robot, one of the smaller, smarter versions. It approached confidently and activated its voice transponder.

"Human! Halt!" It said with mechanical precision.

"Fuck you," Doug said, raising the energy gun. He fired a bolt at the robot's topknot first, the bulbous extrusion that all robots possessed. When it exploded into bits he sent two more bolts at its body, aiming for where the CPU was thought to be. It swung in a circle and settled on its treads, where it began smoking and hissing. He turned and ran, wanting to get out of the area quickly. He settled down behind the corner of a small square building and waited, hoping he'd killed the com dome in time.

No such luck. He heard the sound of more robots approaching from two directions, flanking him except in the direction of Clemmie's Wah. He damned sure wasn't going to run toward there and lead them to her! He was trapped. He sighed, then took a deep breath and got ready to sell his life as dearly as possible. Just as he raised his gun to fire a thunderous clap of sound erupted from near the edge of the agriculture area. Streaks of ionized gases lit up the night sky as projectiles cut a path through the atmosphere and into space. They created a familiar succession of sonic booms as they split the air. Rail guns! The city was being attacked and its new defenses were activated and firing.

He was so surprised he momentarily forgot his own predicament. By the time he looked back down at the street, again intending to do battle with the robots, they were heading the other way. Another kind of light brightened the sky to almost daylight brilliance. The city's laser cannons were also going into action, apparently having delayed only long enough to be pumped up. He gave quick thanks for his life and to whoever ordered the strike. Somehow he felt the universe was on his side for a change and he began to run again, this time deliberately toward Clemmie's Wah. As he ran a rail gun blast barely missed him. It was about a hundred meters south of him. Rocks and parts of the city flew into the debris-filled sky.

***

The shuttles had been launched and Keane was directing Doc Travis toward the city of Xanadu while simultaneously climbing back out of the atmosphere on a course to take them a little less than two hundred kilometers above the aliens. He wanted to get the shooting over as quickly as possible, and the only way to do that was to come in close. He waited tensely for the conflict to begin. He had already ordered the crew to battle stations with fighting environment suits on. They would keep a person alive and active for up to an hour in an airless space.

"June, your weapons are released. Anita, Jerome, maneuver according to June's instructions. Don't wait on my orders. I want those rail guns taken out as quickly as possible. And remember, we don't know that there aren't more of them than the underground reported."

That was made apparent a few moments later as the ship moved over the city.

"Incoming! Three sources!" Master Chief Thomas Berry said loudly. He had taken over the screen monitoring slot himself.

Seconds later, the ship rang and shook from multiple projectiles hitting it at speeds way beyond supersonic. The slugs were white hot when they penetrated the meteor shield, having been fired at a speed obviously calculated to be just short of what would have vaporized the pieces of metal. They blasted at the overlapping plates but were prevented from bursting through the shell of the ship by the new super-alloy. Other sections were not so lucky.

"Senior officer's quarters, multiple hits. Damage control fire team one, away!" Lieutenant Lan Nguyen, the environmental officer ordered. His secondary duty was always damage control. Up until then, he had not been needed. "Mess hall bay one, single hit, open to space. Repair team one, away! Hanger bay one demolished, open to space. Repair team two, away!"

Keane exchanged glances with the COB and nodded his thanks for getting the marines off the ship. He turned his gaze to Nguyen's screen as the ship shook from more hits. The damage control monitor screen brightened with a multitude of red lights.

"Return fire, first rail gun battery destroyed," Mundahan announced calmly. "Maneuver to zero point niner, zero point six. Fire. Again. Again. Second rail gun battery destroyed."

Every screen in the control room turned to white noise as a massive laser began a pulsing fire against the ship's screen. The COB had no time to warn against a light speed weapon. The ship shuddered as its rail guns fired again and again under June Mundahan's calm direction.

"Maneuver to zero point one one, and four point niner. Laser cannon, fire! Again! Again!"

She has to be firing blind now, Keane thought.

The screens came back to life. The ship shuddered from another hit by a rail gun slug but June was using their own rail guns to fire down behind the laser cannon against the city's more powerful one. The ship's screen could take its destructive fire for a time but it wasn't invulnerable.

"Rail gun two inactive. Compartment open to space. Backup weapons team to rail gun two, away! Repair team one to rail gun two compartment, away. Enlisted ratings quarters, open to space! Repair team four, away!" Nguyen ordered. "Collateral damage to sickbay one! Fire team three, away! Fire team one, report! Fire team one?"

There was no answer. "Fire team two, report progress." Nguyen listened for a moment. "Away to storeroom seven! Quickly!"

It looked to Keane that as quickly as one red light on Nguyen's screen went out another lit up. The ship shook again. The city's remaining rail gun was still active, as was the pulsing laser cannon. Mundahan was concentrating the ship's fire against it, calling out precise movements to Chavez and Manheimer to align the ship, but they were taking still more hits. The vessel shuddered and bucked as laser pulses impacted the shield again and again, drawing it down to dangerously low levels, and all the while it was being pounded by rail gun slugs. Most were deflected by the overlapping melded alloy but even hits on those shook the ship. The ones that punctured the shell were worse, savaging the interior of Doc Travis as if a raging monster was loose inside it.

"Fire all lasers!" Mundahan ordered. "Now, now, now!"

"Hit! Laser cannon site destroyed!" Master Chief Berry whooped loudly.

"Maneuver," Mundahan said. "Six point three and two point one. Fire! Again! Again! Again! Die, you fucking gun!" She momentarily lost her composure but quickly regained it as the COB announced the destruction of the city's last rail gun site. A strange quiet descended, with the ship no longer shaking from hits and deflected shots.

"Captain, we're not taking any more enemy fire," Mundahan said. Sweat was beading her forehead but her voice was calm again. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her tunic.

"COB, take control of personnel allotment. Suggest drawing half the weapons crew to help with repairs."

"Already on it, sir," the Master Chief grinned.

Keane grinned back at him. There weren't many occasions when a Captain was in front of the Bosun. "All right! Anita, let's make a couple of circles over the city and check for damage and concentrations of Worms or robots. Com, get me Rambling."

"Aye, aye, sir," Bogarty said. "Searching ...searching ...got it! I'm patching him through to you, sir."

"Rambling here."

"Steel, this is Keane. We've neutralized Xanadu's defensive fire but we took some heavy damage and need time for repairs. We have only one rail gun in service and both laser cannons are down. One is destroyed completely. I'm waiting on damage control for a report on the other."

"Captain, we're going to need that air cover. I sent Cindy up in her shuttle for a quick look and we're already seeing Worm concentrations."

"How about robots?"

"Not so many, but it was just a quick scan. I didn't want to risk her yet."

"I'll feed you some more intelligence in a few minutes. Give me your location."

"We've landed Company A. Coordinates L7 by C4 from grid three. I'm holding Company B for the moment. I've sent scouts over the wall."

"Got it. Hold one ...okay, Steel, just got more reports from damage control. We got one of the laser cannons back up. It just needed a bulkhead patch, a power node and a new crew. One of the other rail guns will probably be back up in less than an hour but the other is completely destroyed. We salvaged all the slugs from it, though so there won't be any shortage of ammo. We'll be ready when you need us."

"Good deal. If you're sure about the city's defenses I'm going to send Cindy up and start the first assault with Company A."

"With you. Good luck and keep this circuit open."

"Will do. Rambling out."

"Okay, June and Anita, we're going to be supporting marine assaults from now on. Jerome, I think Anita can handle the astrogation now and Boris can take the helm for the assaults." He glanced over to the enlisted helmsman and winked at him, causing the Petty Officer to grin beatifically at the chance to handle the ship while in a combat mode. "Jerome, you help Commander Levy and Lieutenant Nguyen supervise damage control. Bring me back a summary report when you have an overall gestalt of the damage but com me immediately if you find anything affecting the safety of the ship."

"Aye, aye, sir. On it." The big German left the control room to assist the sorely pressed damage control parties. Keane sent him instead of Anita primarily for his muscular strength, if it was needed.

With all his orders being carried out and the ship now on an even keel and no longer being battered this way and that, he felt a need for stimulation and signaled for Mura. "Wanna, would you please bring me some coffee? Then check with the others and see if they want some, too. We may be here a while."

Chapter Twenty-Five: Die, you bastards!

How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life.

-James Kirk, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

"Doug! Oh, Doug!"

Clemmie threw herself at him, practically knocking him off his feet. He hugged her with one arm while his eyes tracked inside the building containing her Wah.

"Sweetheart, I'm glad to see you, too, but this isn't a city defense test. It's the real thing!"

As if to emphasize his words, a series of explosions swept across the city less than a mile from their location. She hugged him with an even fiercer grip. He took his eyes away from their surroundings long enough to give her a long kiss.

It was almost their undoing. When he looked up he found himself staring at two Sinchiks just coming around a curve from the interior of the Welshass. He shoved her away and blasted them both with hardly a thought. He looked around for more but the place was empty, at least temporarily.

"Are there more of them around, Clemmie? Have any left since the fighting started?"

"I just woke up a little while ago when I heard the first guns fire. But ...how did you get here so quick?"

"Listen, is there a hiding place nearby where we can talk a minute? After that we've got to contact your wing of the underground."

"Come on. I've got a place where I doubt any of the Sinchik will find us for a little while." She ducked under her bed frame and withdrew a peculiar looking cane, then led him into her Wah and on past it, stopping at what appeared to be a blank wall and dead end. She grasped the cane with both hands and began telescoping it into a long handle. With the curve of the cane handle she reached high and hooked it over a barely visible handle. She pulled and a doorway slid into a recess, opening another room.

"Come on in." He did so, wondering how in hell she had ever figured this out. She closed the door behind them and dropped the cane on the floor. "Now give me a proper kiss!"

He did his best, holding her close to his body for long moments while their lips were locked together.

She laid her head on his chest for a moment then stepped back. "Okay, now give. How did you get here so fast and why? I thought the idea was for us to each use our wing of rebels as best we could when the time came. Has that changed?" She grinned mysteriously as she asked the last question.

"Yes, and from the look on your face you've got news, too." He kissed her again quickly and began to explain how he had been washed down into the tunnels. "I had found a robot lab that was experimenting on humans, but you should have gotten a report on that already. It was horrible. I thought at the time there must be something important on the other side of that lab and I still do. The connections went into the wall. Anyway, I went back again and explored some more and found the gravity generators for their tractor beam. A couple of rebels took it out last night." He closed his eyes briefly, remembering Jordan and Helen's nonchalant attitude that concealed the knowledge that they were probably going to die.

"My wing combined all that data, plus what you'd discovered about the rail guns. We sent it and maps describing the tunnel system and their locations as accurately as possible, but you know without an inertial navigator ...well, anyway, I thought we had to do it when the satellite transponder went on after all these years even before consulting with your wing. Then I learned just a while ago that some robots discovered Sue Nakamura, my second in command, broadcasting all that data to the satellite. I don't know whether she got through to them or not, but she was killed, Clemmie. Or more accurately, she suicided. We'd built a dead-man switch into it so that if she were discovered and couldn't get away, the Sinchiks couldn't figure out who we were talking to. And of course that was the only space com we had.

"I guess you know my next step. I thought I had to come here so we could coordinate all the underground movements, so you'd know everything we did. And besides, your wing has the only operable short range com left. We may need it to guide our rescuers when they show up. This is it, Clemmie. We're either going to leave this place or we'll die trying."

She touched him again and again, kissing him at the same time. He knew the feeling. She was hardly daring to believe he was with her.

"Now tell me your secret, Sweetie. I know you have one."

"I do. You're not the only one that made another excursion. I didn't but one of my guys did. Doug, I think he found the central intelligence node for the whole city. It's a huge room. There was this big round dome in the room. It had cables running from it into the walls as if they penetrated and went to other areas. It had what looked like antennas and ten or twelve of the same type of com nodes all the robots have, only a bit larger. They were spotted over its surface. And then ...Doug, there were dozens, maybe even more, of the small robots. They all seemed to be servicing that giant dome in one way or another. And that's not all. At places near all the entrances-and there were lots of them-he saw weapon sites equipped with big guns, what looked like larger versions of their hand weapons."

He could hardly believe it. If Clemmie's scout had truly discovered the central node of the city, they had to let the ship from home know about it. "Did he get an approximation of the location?'

"Uh huh." She withdrew a crumpled map from her pouch. "In fact, I compared it to the lab you found and they're not too far apart, as near as we can judge. They are pretty deep, but the central node is below both of them. All the ramps leading into it were coming from a higher level. He said that was easy enough to see even from his vantage point."

"We need to let that ship know. Let's get back outside."

"What if we're caught?"

"We have to take a chance. Maybe the robots and Sinchik will all be busy fighting with the ship. Damn, I sure hope they don't manage to shoot it down after all these years." He stepped through the exit and Clemmie closed it behind them.

"They haven't got it yet, Doug," Clemmie said. "I still hear explosions. And they're all centered on where we know the rail guns and laser cannons are. Hey! I bet your message did get through!"

"So long as the ship stays ready to travel the hell away from here. I think we ought to call out your wing and get them organized to help fight when the rescuers come."

"What if they don't? What if this is just a fight between the ship and the city?"

"We've been over that before, Clemmie. Remember, we decided that when a new ship appeared, the underground was going to fight. Let's do it."

"Okay. There's no Sinchiks or robots around right now. Let's head for the gathering point. I'll notify a few friends along the way, if they don't get caught they'll begin spreading the word. We'll head directly to where the radio is hidden and see if we can contact the ship."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Get all your gear. We may not ever be back."

As they traveled away from Clemmie's Wah, the explosions in the city and overhead died away. He had no idea whether the ship had been destroyed or the city's defenses had been neutralized. Hell, he didn't even know if they'd gotten the recorded message sent to the old Wannstead satellite! Their only option was to continue with the original plan of getting to the hidden radio and attempt contact, and hope that the ship was in range.

***

"Ah, shit!" Doug said with pure undiluted exasperation when a shuttle, obviously from the new ship, flew almost directly overhead but apparently either didn't see them or didn't want to land. Probably it couldn't right then, he thought. It circled then flew back out of sight, away from the city. Disheartened but not dispirited, they went on.

Despite it being mid-morning there were few robots about and most of those were the larger ones. On the other hand, Sinchiks were abundant but they were ignoring humans. All appeared to be headed in one direction, toward the edges of the city, as if expecting an invasion. Perhaps they are, Doug thought, but didn't mention it to Clemmie for fear of it not happening and upsetting her. Along the way she met other people she knew. Some she merely greeted but most she stopped and talked to, giving them instructions to pass the word on that the time had come to fight. She specified three different gathering places, all near the edge of the city where they could hide from sight for the time being.

"It's on the other side," Clemmie said. They had come to the wall encircling the city. It was only a meter and a half tall and the only purpose anyone had ever figured out for its existence was simply to delineate the city's boundaries. She climbed over with ease and the others followed.

The radio was hidden inside a cluster of trees that were stubby and spread long arms filled with heavy green fuzzy leaves. The growth was tangled and well suited for concealment. Clemmie led him and several others of the wing they had picked up along a narrow, barely negotiable trail through the trees into a cleared spot. All of her comrades had been dressed in the same kind of rags he and Clemmie wore.

"We always had to be damned careful going over the wall but it makes a good place to meet, and it'll do for broadcasting just as well."

The technician dug up the radio and power source. She unwrapped them from their waterproof cases and hooked them together. Glowing lights came on as she ran it through a series of tests. Finally, she shrugged. "It's ready. I've set it to broadcast on several frequencies at once. Here." She handed the set to Doug. "You've already sent them one message. You talk. Maybe they'll recognize your voice. See this dial here? It'll give you a number if anyone answers. If so, turn this knob until the numbers match. Press here to talk, release it to listen. That's it."

He took the set and began speaking. They had no method for recording so he had to go over the same material again and again. Suddenly the answer light came on. Quickly he twisted the knob to match frequencies and spoke again.

"This is Douglas Trevanne. I am a survivor of the Wannstead ship Jeane Baptiste. Answer on this frequency."

He held his breath for a second in anticipation. Then there was a radio static crackle. "We ...," said someone with the sound dying off. It came back a few seconds later. "Yes, we hear you ...our NavCom had to be set to emulate the old system, we had to switch to the old com signals. We no longer use that one. Can you read me?" Doug thought the voice had to be the most beautiful in the galaxy.

"We read you loud and clear. Did you receive any of my previous messages just now?"

"This is Marine Captain Cindy Cantrell, of the USSS Doc Travis. Mr. Trevanne, please be informed that we have taken out the city's defenses and will shortly be assaulting with marines. The Doc Travis is a Space Navy warship. We appreciate the intelligence and want to meet you soonest."

A Space Navy warship! Thought Doug all excited. We might actually make it home!

"I have what I think may be vital information for you, Captain. Can you triangulate if I send a steady signal?" Doug asked. His breathing was ragged with the adrenalin surging through his body.

"Go ahead. Give me a steady signal for four minutes then I'll call back."

"Beginning. I'll hum loudly." Doug held down the spring loaded button and began humming an old tune he knew by heart. He timed it with his thumb watch, giving it an extra thirty seconds just to be sure. His finger was beginning to get tired by the time he lifted it.

"Got it, Mr. Trevanne. Remain where you are. I'm going to land a shuttle nearby and pick you up. Be ready to move quickly. Advise me if there are any robot or Worm defenders nearby."

"Worms?

"The ten legged creatures."

"Oh. Good name for them, I guess. We have to refer to them as Sinchik. No, there are no defenses near here nor any robots or Sinchik around. The Sinchik all appeared to be heading toward the part of the city where you were bombing."

"We've just noticed. Watch for the shuttle. We're approaching."

***

Doug watched apprehensively as the shuttle came toward them, flying very low. It touched down lightly, assisted by its anti-gravity flanges. A squad of heavily armed men, marines he thought, exited the ramps smartly and spread out in a defensive formation. He raised his hand and yelled.

"Over here! We're Americans!"

"Come on," one of the marines called back.

"Everyone but Clemmie and I, hang loose. We're free but don't let down your guard, either. Come on Clemmie, let's go." He led the way at a dead run, holding her hand. The marines all grinned and motioned them on past. A few shook their heads at the sight of the rags they were clad in. They reached the shuttle ramp and were urged forward by a petite, auburn haired woman in uniform with Marine Captain's insignia on the collar, if he remembered right. She held out her hand, shook both of theirs briefly and urged them toward the cabin of the shuttle.

"Welcome aboard. Come forward with me, quickly. You said you had vital information but we need it in a hurry. We're getting ready to begin an assault on the city."

As soon as they were seated in the forward cabin, Doug began explaining. "Captain, we've discovered what I believe to be the central intelligence node for the entire city. I could be wrong but it's a good bet. We're ready to lead your marines there. We also have hand drawn maps of a lot of the tunnel systems, if that'll help. The distances are only approximations but we did our best." He paused to let her write down what he'd said so far but she motioned him impatiently to continue.

"I'm recording. In fact, this is patched through to my commander and the ship. Go on, what else?"

"Um, okay. The tunnel systems on this side of the city are mapped more thoroughly than the other side, where my wing of the underground is. Clemmie here was ahead of us on discovering them. However, I have a limited map of the other side."

"How about the underground defenses?"

"I can't tell you for sure other than that the robots are more likely to be found underground than Sinchiks. Or ...Worms, did you call them?"

"Yes. What else?"

"Captain, if you're assaulting I'd suggest you do it from each direction, using agents from the two underground wings to guide you. Clemmie and I will do it from this side. You need to contact Mario Luna on the other side of the city. He's waiting and ready. We have weapons of sorts but could use some additional equipment if you can spare it."

"We can. The defenses?"

"Anywhere in the tunnels you'll find little alcoves where you can hide two people temporarily. Clemmie, demonstrate the door opener, please."

She showed her telescoping rod and told of how to locate the handles to open new paths.

"Also, when you come to a dead end, if it's guarding anything, I've found there'll be a foot switch about two feet back and on the right. Just stamp it hard with your foot and the door will slide into a recess. Inside, press the same sort of switch to leave. The doors close automatically after a minute of two.

"Now for the main intelligence node. It's in a giant room. We counted eight wide tunnels leading into it but I believe all of them have little alcoves troops can use for temporary cover. Each of the tunnels is guarded by a weapons site inside the big room which we think are heavy energy guns. The same type as their hand weapons but more powerful. The node is a big dome with lots of cables snaking from it to walls. It has antennas, looks like, and also a lot of com nodes on its surface, similar to the ones you'll see on all the robots. You know about those?"

"Right. We've learned."

"And the small robots are the most dangerous, the larger ones less so and the ...Worms are dumb but they will fight."

"Okay, got all that."

"Last thing, Captain. Our underground has never been very large, main reason being that anyone caught conspiring against them was skinned alive."

"Good God!"

"Yeah. Now the two wings are all we have, about fifteen men and women in each. All the rest of the humans are scattered about on the surface in their Wahs, which are just their living quarters, situated inside Sinchik ...ah...I mean Worm family quarters. We've tried to pass the word for them to congregate here and at the similar site across the city but most of them are scared. They probably won't move until they see armed marines come to rescue them. Anything else you can think of, Clemmie?"

"No, you've covered it, Doug. God, I wish we could just go home now."

"Me, too but we owe these people our help. By the way, Captain, tell your people to shoot for the com domes on the robots first. It slows them down, especially the large ones. It's hard to kill them otherwise. Huh! Maybe that's why they use them, so accidents don't happen with the Sinchik."

"It doesn't matter now. I have to get back into the air right smartly. Let's get you outside now and hooked up with the assault party." They had barely exited the shuttle when a second one came in for a landing. Marines began pouring from it, running toward the wall of the city, spreading out and organizing for a major assault. Two of them hurried toward her.

"This is First Sergeant Watkins. He's been listening. He'll take over here now. Thanks for the intelligence and I hope to see you aboard the Doc Travis when this is over. We'll have a drink together." She smiled at him and was gone.

"Back up," the sergeant ordered. "She's taking off now."

***

"Captain Keane, this is how we're going to do it, with your approval," Rambling said, speaking from an assembly point near where Doug had passed on all the data he had. He was patched in to all the platoon and squad leaders as well as the control room. "I'm going to have Cantrell and another shuttle make a number of passes over the city while the Doc Travis hovers overhead. She'll call down plasma cannon fire on any concentrations of Worms or robots. So long as she sees any of either on the surface, we're going to hold off the assault.

"Once the surface is clear we're going to attack from both points where the former captives are assembled. The objective is the central node that you want captured whole. We'd like you to put down rail gun fire heavy enough to collapse tunnels all around the objective but don't get too close because the coordinates aren't precise. Once you've done that our demolition teams will move forward under cover to blast our way down to any tunnel we can't find an entrance to.

"The objective, as you can probably guess, is to limit the number of robots and Worms available to defend the intelligence node by limiting their access to the tunnels. Our Barrett teams will be mixed with fire teams and backed by SAW squads and rifle teams. The Barretts will go for the robots while the fire teams take care of the Worms, and also provide support against the robots.

"I'm hoping the two assaults will have to take only a limited number and length of the tunnel systems before surrounding the node. At that point, I believe the heaviest fighting will occur since the underground tells us the node is heavily defended. This is assuming the robots have made it to the weapons sites defending access to the node through the tunnels. Or, it's possible that the node itself will conduct the defense. It is described as being heavily surfaced with com domes and it's possible those heavy energy guns can be operated automatically. In either case, that's where I believe the heaviest fighting will be.

"We'll do our best to capture the place as intact as possible but if it turns out that we're suffering too many casualties I will order my marines to back out and let you hit it with your rail guns. I know that isn't the optimum situation but I have only so many marines."

It was a moment before Keane replied. Rambling thought he just waited until he was certain he'd finished outlining the assault plan.

"Okay, Steel. It's all yours. We'll do whatever we can to help, but the brunt of it is going to be on you. I have to repeat, though, the central intelligence node is vital, even if you do lose troops capturing it. Now when do you want to begin?"

"Give me thirty more minutes while you and Cindy sweep the city. Any time afterward when you tell me the surface is clear, that's when we start the assault."

"Got it. Notify me when the marines move out."

***

"This is what we've been waiting for," Doug said as he and Clemmie led her underground wing to the marine assembly point. In the background he could hear the thundering of rail gun fire. Occasionally the already well-lit sky brightened from flaring flames ignited by laser cannon. Good, he thought. Die, you bastards!

"We can use the maps our friends gave us so upload them to your HUD, plus I've added a few from our last trip," First Sergeant Watkins said loudly. He was assuming command of Company A while the remaining platoon officer had Company B. He had lost all his platoon officers but one to death or wounds. Junior officers were depleted quickly in combat. "We'll blow an entrance into the lower tunnels just on the other side of where the rail guns from the ship are attempting to collapse everything. I think we can use the tunnels to get to the central node. Clementine O'Hara will be just behind the lead elements to help guide you."

Doug shuddered inside as he heard that, but she had insisted on leading the marines since she was the only person to have gone through the tunnels all the way to the node. He caressed the new marine rifle in his hands. Any Worm or robot that tried for her was going to be in trouble.

"We don't know the extent of the defenses. It may be protected by a few robots or a lot, and maybe we'll see Worms, too. The Barrett team with the short rifles go first, backed up by marine fire teams. Barrett snipers and SAW squads will help clear the tunnels in advance where possible. Squads of riflemen and grenadiers will be backing them up. We're anticipating advancing into the node by the four tunnels on this side of the city, two squads to each. Company B will assault from the other side in the same fashion. Remember, we have two military shuttles and a Space Navy warship overhead and our com team will be running lines back to the surface to call down air cover as we need it. Questions?"

The Gunnery Sergeant in charge of two of the squads spoke up. "First Sergeant, we all know our assignments. Let's get going before the Worms recover from the bombardment."

"Patience, Gunny. We're about ready. Anything else?"

No one else spoke.

Watkins stared into space for a second as if listening. "Good, let's get cracking. Doc Travis and the shuttle pilots say they've done all they can for now."

Cindy Cantrell, on the scout Hemingway, monitored the marine movement from above and relayed data back to Doc Travis. So far, no laser cannons or weapons had targeted her craft, but that still did not make her feel easy. Something was boiling down below, she could feel it. The echolocater from Doc Travis confirmed her suspicions. It had detected heavy movements below ground, probably robots, despite all the preparation by the rail guns and laser cannon of the ship.

***

Keane had a last informal conversation with Rambling. "Major, I've got a feeling this is gonna be a bear. We'll give you as much air support as we can but we've taken a lot of damage. If we missed a major weapon and it fires on us we may have to retreat and regroup on the other side of the planet. We can't afford too many more hits-and neither can you. Bear in mind that the shuttles are your transport, too, so if things get real tough, back off and fly your marines far enough out from the city so that we can bring in the Doc Travis dirtside if necessary. The weapons and aliens may be tougher here, and we both know that- but that's just conjecture on our part. I know you know all this Major. Do what you have to do, we'll back you up no matter what."

"I know that, Captain. The assault has already begun."

A few minutes later Rambling reported back. "Cantrell pinpointed the location of some hostages on the surface. We're sending a squad to lead them out. By the way, do you want us to bring back any live robots or Worms this time?"

Keane thought for a moment. "Let's leave our options open for the time being."

"Right, sir. Just let us know."

***

Rambling listened intently on his com as Sergeant Martinez reported. "Major, we have a shitpot of robots exiting out of the north side. They're using heavy energy guns as well as their hand weapons. Get us some air cover, pronto!"

Cindy looked at a holo map in the shuttle, wanting desperately to help Sergeant Martinez and his men. They were cornered. The road went from directions arbitrarily designated north to south, with a wall of buildings on both sides. No exits and the robots were emerging from below faster than the snipers or the point troops could kill them. She saw one chance and took it, a low swooping run between the buildings with only a hairs breath margin of being able to pull out without crashing. She punched the release lever for her bombs and yanked desperately at the controls. The shuttle bucked as a horrible tearing noise ripped through it. She thought she must have hit one of the walls but a quick look at her panel told her it was an energy bolt that had done the damage. It had hit the right thruster, disabling it and starting a fire. She knew she could eject and live but she had other marines in the shuttle - the spotters and security, com tech and several others.

She wrestled with the stricken aircraft, pulling it in a circle just above the spires of the city still left standing, and nosed it in a dive toward the brush along the outside wall. She almost hit the wall itself before pancaking the craft to earth on the last bit of power left in its lone gravity thruster capacitor. It slid along the ground, tearing a swath through the brush, tilted, and came to rest.

"Out! Out! Everyone out!" She yelled, shepherding the crew through both opened ramps. "Back over the wall!" she shouted again when everyone was out. The shuttle was burning fiercely. She scuttled over the wall and dropped to the other side, then immediately had the breath knocked out of her by someone landing on top. More bodies hit the dirt before a giant explosion rocked the world. Only the wall of the city protected her and the crew but it sufficed. All she felt was the down pressure of the blast, then the smell of greasy smoke. She was alive and so was the crew.

***

"Fire in the hole!" the demolition expert yelled and ran up a rubble strewn slope for cover. He barely made it before the charge blew. He looked back down after the dust cleared and waved his hand. Another tunnel beneath the debris was now exposed. Marines ran by him, those carrying short-barreled Barretts in the vanguard.

"Go, go!" Bullet yelled as he fired. He hit the small robot's com dome squarely, shattering it, then aimed lower, trying for its CPU. The large robots in front of it hesitated just long enough. More gunfire chewed at them. The way was cleared. He inserted another clip into the Barrett and moved on, wiping at blood from a cut on his arm as he went.

Zembra fired again, hitting her target just where she intended. She was partially concealed in one of the little robot charging stations. It gave just enough cover to brace her rifle and fire down the long tunnel, right over the heads of the troops in the lead, taking down opposition they hadn't even seen yet. By God, she wasn't about to let anyone get to Bullet again! She couldn't tell which of the marines ahead of her was him, but she knew he was in the group working their way forward, still heading down and forward, hunting for the intelligence node. She gasped as she saw one of the marines fall. She practically didn't breathe at all until she passed the fallen form and saw that it was Jackson, not Bullet. She muttered a prayer for him and sought out another high point to shoot from.

***

"Yes sir, they're in the low ground around a tunnel entrance we have to get into. We're hiding behind an abutment a little north that wasn't completed, seems to be some type of place for storing electronic equipment. It's pretty good cover but we can't move without getting hit," the gunnery sergeant said to Watkins. "I've lost two of my team already. The Worms downhill are shooting at us with their energy weapons but they don't really have a good position and seem to be waiting, but we can't get any real shots at them, either. If we head out from the cover for too long we'll get turned into hamburger. Can you get them with the rail guns or bring in a shuttle?"

Watkins scratched his head, thinking hard. "No Sarge, I don't think we can-you're too close and they have some kind of anti-aircraft weapons. We'll figure something out. Give me sec here while I talk with Corporal Ambrose."

He turned to the corporal. "Ambrose, do we still have a Zippy left?"

"We have one Zippy and a Zip Junior, one for each team," Ambrose said, already figuring out what the First Sergeant was up to with the reconnaissance drones. He reached behind him to loosen a package of Clatismite.

"How much weight can they carry and still fly?"

"Well Top, they're really just used for spying, not for carrying any heavy loads, but they do have up to five kilos of fuel for long distance work." He split the package and began taping one section to the Zippy

"What's the minimum amount of fuel, in pounds, required to get them over to those robots from here?"

"Nothing to worry about, sir. I can send them in right away."

"No, first I want your team to attach two kilos of C-5 to the craft, hover it over the robots, and remotely blow it up. It should ignite their munitions and put some flying metal in the robots diet. We need to be careful, though. The Zippy's small and we'll want a quick insertion, but I want a diversion first. I don't want it shot down."

PFC Arlington cut in: "Sir, I think I can give you the diversion. One of my men, Lance Corporal Salvino, opened one of those drums we ran across. He poured some of the liquid on the ground and lit it. More flammable than kerosene or gas. Nasty shit. He suggested we roll one down the hill to our Worm friends, but I told him to wait until I talk to you. I think the drums will be a great diversion."

"How far you talking?" asked Rambling.

"They're about fifty meters away, all downhill."

Martinez looked at his holo map. The private was correct. He saw the distance and also saw some type of communication jamming. "There's some jamming going on, use a spread spectrum transmitter on full wide. It should work. You sure these drums will roll down far enough?"

"It's a smooth run all the way down, shouldn't be a problem. We'll need to push it out of this building, and expose ourselves a bit, and then get back under cover quickly. But my men can do it."

"Excellent. Let me know when you have the drums ready and I'll send in Zippy with an early Christmas present for our friends. Oh, and if by any chance there are any Worms left, try to bring in one alive ...or hell, dead. I don't give a shit-this is getting too hairy to worry about. Just get me one."

"Yes sir."

The diversion worked fine but left no living Worms. Seconds later the Zippy committed honorable Hari-Kari and took most of the blocking robots with it. A few quick bursts from a squad operated heavy MG finished the rest. The marines moved on, ever downward.

***

Keane agonized over the com report of Cindy's shuttle being hit but tried desperately not to show it, or let it affect his performance. There was still a battle going on and the aliens had just proved they still had some kick to their defenses. Her shuttle had gone down after being heavily damaged and then blown up. No word had come in yet on whether there were survivors but it didn't look good.

"June, Bogy, did anyone get a record of what hit Major Cantrell's shuttle? We don't want the same thing happening to us."

"I saw it, sir and the file has been saved. I think Cindy came in too low while trying to help some marines in trouble and a robot with a heavy energy gun caught her just right. Either that or she clipped the side of a building as she was pulling up. It was so close and happened so fast I'd have to play the whole thing in slow motion to get a real idea. Should I?"

"No, leave it until we have more time. Bogy, contact Shuttle Two and tell them they'll have to take over duties for both One and Two until I can contact Rambling again. And O'Neal, let's raise the ship a few more klicks to be sure we're out of their range."

***

The marines Doug and Clemmie were with had been forced to swing wide around a collapsed section of tunnels where Doc Travis' rail guns had taken a bigger bite than intended. It brought them within range of the experimental lab Doug had found. Sergeant Meyer decided to take a look and, if it seemed feasible, to free the subjects and send them back with a couple of marines and medical attendants.

"I recognize this part, Sarge. Have your point man step on the floor switch on the right, about two feet back from what looks like the dead end."

Meyer relayed the message up the line. A moment later the point men were inside, rifles firing on automatic. This time there had been unarmed Worms in with the captives, allocating food and water. When the marines saw the condition of the men, women and children, they showed no mercy. Seconds later the Worms were writhing on the gore-smeared deck. The subjects, still with the horrid attachment protruding from the top of their heads, ignored the gunfire and dead Worms. They continued eating and drinking as if nothing untoward had happened.

" My Good God! What have those evil motherfuckers done here?" a young female marine murmured just before she was disastrously sick. She added the contents of her stomach to the green scum already spilled from the worms.

"I think they were being studied," Doug said. "See the cables coming from the walls? If your coordinates are right, somewhere about fifty to sixty meters on the other side of that wall is where one of the tunnels leads to the central node."

"Well, let's try to get them out of here." Meyer called for the medics.

The human lab animals were led placidly away. Doug privately held out little hope for them. Once they were gone he pointed out the route they needed to take to get to the central node, a much longer trek than sixty meters but the tunnels were free of the enemy for the time being.

***

"Sorry it took so long to get a report to you, sir," Cindy said. She was finally in contact with the ship after a marine three-man patrol had come running to the crash site. "Shuttle One is destroyed but we all got out safely. No casualties."

"Don't be sorry," Keane said with a catch in his throat. "We all thought you were dead. Shuttle Two is handling things for now."

"How are the assaults going? I'm heading back to where the other shuttles are grounded to take number Three up."

"Company A is still pressing toward the purported central intelligence node against heavy resistance. Company B is stalled in tunnels that the underground hadn't explored. They're going to try breaking out momentarily with explosives. Shuttle Two is reporting robots and Worms emerging from behind where we bombed, then crossing the debris fields and going back underground. We can't have them attacking the marines from behind. Only a few have made it so far, but just one shuttle can't cover the whole city and we took some heavy fire when we dropped low enough to do precise spotting. If you're not hurt, Rambling needs you back in the air. If you're up for it, I'll forward your report and tell him you're on the way."

"I am and I'm gone. Cantrell out."

***

"We're close to what we believe to be the central node, sir," Watkins reported. "Casualties moderate so far, but we're going to have to assault a heavy weapons site protecting each tunnel leading to it and God knows how many robots. I don't know if it'll help but maybe Doc Travis and the shuttles can create a diversion when we go for it."

"Excellent," Rambling said. "I'll forward your request, but be advised we lost one of the shuttles. We'll have another up shortly but until then there's only one flying."

"Who went down?"

"Captain Cantrell, but she and the crew survived."

"Good to hear."

"Also be advised to watch your rear. Robots and Worms are crossing the collapsed areas on the surface then going back down into the tunnels. Air support is stopping most of them but they can't get them all."

"Not good to hear. Martinez out."

Chapter Twenty-Six: Hotter than Hell!

People often say that life is sacred. They almost never mean what they say.

-Peter Singer, Practical Ethics- What's Wrong with Killing?

"This place is hotter than hell!" said Doug, rubbing sweat off his forehead. The constant fire from the robots' energy guns was heating up the tunnels. The air temperature had easily risen a good ten degrees. He and Clemmie were still with the second tier of marines, directing them toward the central node. He expected it to get even hotter for they were approaching their goal.

"It's just beyond the next level, Sergeant Meyer," Clemmie said. "This tunnel will split into a short tee, then you'll see two ramps leading down. Be careful because they'll take you directly into the place and there are heavy weapons guarding both entrances."

"You said there were eight altogether?"

"Right."

"Any idea if the weapons site can swivel to fire on an entrance besides the one they were designed to guard? Or the one they're pointed to, I guess I should say."

"I don't know."

"Well, no choice. The other two platoons are supposed to be assaulting the others on this side and Company B is coming from the other way. We'll fight our way in and see what happens." He turned around and put his hands to his mouth and yelled, not bothering with the com. "All reserve Barrett teams forward! All SAWs forward!"

Doug started to move but Meyer grabbed the back of his ragged shirt. "Both of you stay back. You and your people have done enough. This is our job now. Take your people and head on back. Find Sergeant Suvale and tell him ...no, never mind, here he is now. Suv! Take your team and guard these people. Get them outside and to the command post for evacuation. And watch the fuck out. We got reports of robots and those other vermin coming down behind us."

"Got it, Sarge. You ready, sir? Ma'am? Your other people are back about fifty klicks."

Doug touched Clemmie's arm. "Come on, Sweetheart. We've done what we could."

"Thanks, guys," Meyer said as they began walking back. He threw them a quick salute and turned to face the other way. Now came the hard part, taking the central node without destroying it. He put on a bright face for his troops but wasn't looking forward to the duty. He wished they could just throw a ton of Clatismite down the ramp and be done with it.

As they walked away, Doug could hear the sergeant giving instructions, telling the fire teams with their regular infantry rifles to go for the com domes and the Barrett teams to take out the heavy weapons and the internal CPUs of the robots. He nodded approvingly. Working their way down the tunnels they had learned fast ...or died.

***

The Doc Travis shook to a sound like a metal drum being slammed with a sledge hammer. The lights dimmed. They'd been hit with their first laser cannon blast from Xanadu, and even with the improved shields, it hurt.

"Weapons, Helm! Locate that cannon and take it out. Now!" Where in hell had it come from? He thought they'd destroyed all the anti-air weapons of the city but they must have gotten one back up. A damned heavy one, too.

A moment later, both the rail gun and laser cannon began firing down in an emergency pattern, not exactly precise but saturating the general area where the laser cannon fire had come from. Either they killed it quickly or it ceased fire deliberately.

"Cantrell, Shuttle Three. Fire support mission."

"Go, Three."

Cindy read off coordinates and Mundahan gave the orders to fire almost immediately. O'Neal had seen on his screen where he thought Worms were concentrating and had the ship almost in position by the time the order was given.

"Cease fire. Mission complete."

"We must be seeing their reserves," Keane said. "Or more likely the central intelligence knows what we're after now and is calling in everything available to defend it. Com, send word to the shuttles complimenting them and tell them to look sharp. I anticipate more concentrations on the surface."

"Aye, aye, sir," Bogarty said.

***

"I'm getting tired of this fucking heat," Sergeant Meyers said. "Let's get these fuckers cleaned up. Barretts, get moving. Snipers, find positions as soon as we hit the down ramp. According to the rebels, you should have a clear field into the big room. Go for the heavy weapon sites, then the robots. Don't hit that big dome in the middle. It's what we're here for."

"Oorah!" The marines knew they were approaching the end of the mission and were ready to get it over with. Just as the first thunderous round from a Barrett resounded in the tunnel, the rattle of gunfire from their rear broke out.

"Shit," Myers cursed. "Murphy again. Well, this time it's up to the First. Let him get his hands dirty for a change."

***

Watkins was not only dirty, he was bloody as well. An energy bolt from robots attacking the marines in their rear had blasted a hole in the middle of the marine next to him, spattering him with gore.

"Fuck! Go for the robot domes! Get a fucking Barrett up here! Two of them, on the bounce!" He raised his rifle and began aiming for the com domes atop the robots, firing coolly and methodically until another energy bolt hit him directly in the head, shattering his helmet and killing him instantly. Platoon Sergeant Suharto took over. The marines stood their ground. There were only two of them alive by the time a Barrett team turned the attacking robots back.

***

"Trevanne! Doug Trevanne! Is he with this group?"

"I'm Trevanne. Who wants me?"

A First Lieutenant of marines hurried to him. "I'm Lieutenant Gonzales. I understand you're familiar with the tunnel system on the other side of the city?"

"As much as anyone, I guess. Why?"

"Because we have most of a company of marines bogged down over there and can't find their way to that fucking central node Captain Keane wants us to capture. If we take you to them, can you lead them from there?"

"I'll try, Lieutenant."

"Doug ..." Clemmie began to protest but stopped. She knew it was something Doug felt he owed their rescuers, as well as so many of their crew who had died at the hands of the Worms and robots, especially the ones who'd been experimented on. She hugged him briefly and let him go, held back from accompanying him only because she might be needed again on this side of the city.

***

Rambling's reserves, with Doug in their middle, hustled out of the shuttle that took them to their jump-off point, then forward at a fast trot. They were directed by spotters from one of the shuttles but had to kill a group of Worms guarding the entrance to the tunnels Company B had descended into. Although he wasn't involved in it, the fighting along the way was tough. Both robots and Worms had gotten into Company B's rear and barred their way, but the orders were to proceed toward the Central Node and attack in conjunction with A Company, period. By this time, a dozen of his old underground comrades were armed and with the reserves, a welcome addition. Marine casualties had begun adding up when the city threw all its strength against the forces fighting toward its heart.

***

Mary Sung, a member of the Jeane Baptiste's crew who had not joined the underground for fear of leaving her only child without a parent, shot at a Sinchik with an energy gun. She had recently taken it from a dead Sinchik. Someone had shot it earlier. She wasn't sure who, didn't care. She was happy it was dead.

"You don't mind using those greasy weapons?" Joe Dakota, who had been a rebel but had been unable to join his wing, asked.

She shrugged. "Okay by me. We'd be dead already if it weren't for these things." She hefted the hand weapon the Sinchik had been using.

"Marines!" Someone cried out. "It's American marines!"

"What? Did you hear that?" asked Joe.

Mary grinned hugely. "It's music to my ears."

Five minutes later she, Joe, and two others who had been fighting a lonely hit and run battle, were whooping for joy and hugging the heavily laden marine reserves.

"Hey, folks, we're glad to see you too, but stay down. No sense you getting killed now. Let us take care of those bastards." Platoon Sergeant Marilyn Terrance said. "Down the holes, marines, and let's get after them. We can't win a war standing still."

"You got it Sarge," Tammy Canning said. She jumped down into the ragged opening to a tunnel below and hit heavily. "Clear!" she called back up. Other marines joined her and shortly Doug was among them, leading the way from there.

He was getting tired but had to keep going. Damn, why hadn't they shuttled him over to his old stomping grounds to begin with, he wondered? Maybe they were in a hurry and maybe it was his fault, subconsciously wanting to stay with Clemmie and protect her. Whatever, he was here now and knew the way. In fact, he thought he knew just where the marines from the other company had gone astray. If so, he could get them back on track quickly.

***

Cindy Cantrell was still flying over the battlefield in Shuttle Three, searching out groups of Worms or robots, usually a mixture. They were fewer, now. The two shuttles had been using their own missiles and small chattering rail guns when they were fired on. But their main mission was still calling down the wrath of God from Doc Travis on any concentration of the enemy attempting to go to the assistance of the ones defending the central node.

"One more group, Captain, and I think that's the last of them on this side of the city." She read off the coordinates and got out of the way.

"Got it," Keane answered. "Helm, bring the ship down fifty kilometers. Commander Mundahan, prepare the rail gun for action directly on the coordinates just listed."

"Aye, aye, sir," she responded.

The ship began its descent. It leveled off.

"Now!" Mundahan said. "Fire, fire, fire!"

Although the rail gun was removed from the control room by a good hundred meters they could always feel the rapid thunk thunk thunk as its projectiles were shot from the ship, propelled to speeds far beyond supersonic by rings of powerful magnets.

"Got 'em! Cease fire."

"Bring the ship back up now," Keane ordered. The rest of it is going to be up to Steel, he thought. We've done all we can.

***

"Move it, move it!" A sergeant ordered just as he fell from a bolt of energy from a robot handgun. The robot was shattered into pieces an instant later, with an adjoining Worm killed by its fragments. It seemed as if there was no end to the numbers of robots and Worms within the central node's domain, surrounding the large domed habitat of the city's directing intelligence. The A Company marines had worked right to the edge of the high-ceilinged room from three of the four tunnels on their side but couldn't seem to make the final push to where they could spread out, even though two of the heavy weapon sites had been taken down. There were simply too few of them left, and they weren't allowed to use explosives for fear of damaging the very thing they were there to capture.

***

The fighting was very close now. Doug listened closely. It sounded as if it was mostly coming from the tunnels on the other side of the room housing the central node-which meant Company A had made it to there. He looked around him and behind. They had fought their way through the blocking force of robots and Worms, utterly destroying them but taking heavy casualties in the process. There couldn't be much more than a couple of squads of marines left from the two platoons he was with. He doubted there were many more left from the other two platoons that had fought their way to this point in the adjoining tunnels. But he believed there was an upside.

"Sergeant, I think most of the node defenses are aligned against Company A now. That leaves our side of the room relatively undefended. We're in contact with our other platoons, aren't we?"

"Such as they are. What's on your mind? Hurry it up."

"If we charged and used my rebels to augment your forces, I believe we could take out a lot of the defenses since they're pointed toward the opposite tunnels. If Company A waited until we killed as many we could, then burst in, I believe we could finally take the whole node."

Sergeant Marilyn Terrance, who had taken Gonzalez's place when he was severely wounded, thought rapidly then spoke to the sergeant commanding the remnants of the other two platoons of B Company. She commed Company A and explained what Doug had recommended. A bit of welcome news was that marines were now ready to fight from all four tunnels on the opposite side of the big room. She dropped the bug into a fatigue pocket.

"All right, we're going to do it. They've got troops into the last tunnel now so all four of them will be occupied. We also have troops in our four even if there are damn few of us. Alright, Trevanne, marines will go first since your rebels don't have any armor. If we all buy the farm, you're in charge. Got it?"

"Got it," Doug said. God, were there that few marines left?

"Go!" Terrance shouted and the thin line of brave young men and women charged to their death, theirs and the Worms and robots defending the node. Doug and his group were right behind. They burst into a melee of almost incomprehensible proportions. Rifle bullets and energy beams crisscrossed the room, shattering bones and metal, burning armor and flesh and sparking electrical fires. He shot off the com node of a robot, killed a Worm with his rifle and dodged another confused robot that was turning in circles, sometimes firing on its own kind. The sound was deafening and the smoke was an acrid combination of residue from burning Worms, scorched human flesh and shorted out robot circuits. He could hardly see but he kept moving toward the Central Node, large enough to be visible even through the carnage. His rifle clicked as he pulled the trigger. He expelled the empty magazine and inserted another, fumbling because of his blurred vision.

His eyes burned and he could barely hear but he caught the shouts of Cease fire! Cease fire! A few more rifle shots rang out and several Barretts thundered as the few remaining functional defenders were finished off. As the smoke gradually cleared, Doug found himself standing beside the Central Node with a ring of marines circling it. Some of them were wounded. Bodies lay on the deck of the enclosure. Medics were working over others.

He gazed to both sides and over the surface of the dome. He saw only two intact com nodes but that ought to suffice. Somehow, their techs would learn to use those nodes to communicate with the intelligence that had directed the city's defenses and caused so much death and destruction, so much misery, not only its human captives but its Worm workers as well. But it was over. Somehow, they would learn how the Node operated and what drove it and figure out what to do next. But for now all he wanted to do was be relieved and get back to Clemmie. And then to Earth.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Central Intelligence Node

To err is human, but to really foul things up requires a computer.

~ Farmer's Almanac, 1978

The Doc Travis had grounded to make it easier to board the remaining marines and former captives. Rambling had participated himself in that final confused fight for the Central Intelligence Node, the CIN as they were calling it now. His left arm was in a sling and his mind was numb, but not so dazed that he didn't feel a burning rage at the loss of so many of his troops. The shuttle he was on was filled with wounded and medical attendants, the last load. I'm going to tell Keane what a bastard he is for ordering no retreat and ordering assaults no matter what the casualties. I'm going to curse him to hell and back. Goddamn him, there must have been an easier way.

He passed through the open hatch of the shuttle and stumbled down the ramp to the earth before he looked up. All thoughts of berating Captain Keane vanished from his mind. "Oh my God!" he said aloud. The once proud lines of Doc Travis were battered and broken. Its armor was seared and melted. In some places, he could actually see light all the way through the ship! He had no idea how the starship had even made it down without crashing. It was so beaten up that it looked ready for the scrap heap. He didn't even think it could make it out of the Xanadu system now, much less back to Earth! And the loss of life! It must have been every bit as bad as the horrific number of killed and wounded his marines had suffered.

He crossed the fifty yards from the shuttle to the loading ramp of the ship and began trudging up its gentle slope. He paused to give a hand to a young female marine leaning heavily against a medic who was himself bandaged around the head and shoulder. Just inside the hatch leading on into the ship stood Captain Keane. He wore the same sweat-stained uniform he'd had on throughout the fighting, from beginning to end. As each marine passed, he raised his hand in a salute. For those who were able to pause, he shook their hand and said a few words. All the time tears were trickling down his face while his lips trembled. It was obvious how ravaged his soul must feel at all the death that had come about directly from his orders.

Rambling paused. Keane eyed him a moment, then instead of shaking hands he embraced the marine commander, being careful of his injured arm.

"Thank you, Steel. Thank you and your magnificent bunch of marines. Every one of us, the whole human species, owes them a debt of gratitude and I'll make certain the President knows it. Believe me, I will." He released his hold on Rambling and stepped back.

"I think they may owe a debt to the crew of Doc Travis as well, Captain. God bless your crew. We couldn't have succeeded without them. And God only knows how they held the ship together while they were at it." He shook his head in wonder, visualizing the horrendous amount of damage the ship had taken yet kept on fighting. It must have been a very close thing, he thought, then went on into the ship to make way for the wounded marines with him.

***

The first conference after capturing the Central Intelligence Node, the CIN, was simply a short gathering of key officers and enlisted specialists for the sole purpose of assessing the condition of the ship, the number of casualties, how the burial details were going and other such mundane matters. But it was also a time for Keane to hand out assignments designed to get the ship functioning again, loading up as much advanced technology in as short a time as possible, and most importantly, directing the senior scientists whose specialties would be most useful to take apart the CIN down to a molecular level if necessary, to learn as much about it, the Worms, and the robotic hierarchy before having to depart. Already he was feeling the pressure of not knowing whether an impending counterattack from outside the Bolt cluster was on the way or not. As quickly as feasible, he needed to get Doc Travis on its way back to Earth.

Keane's days were filled with innumerable talks on a one to one basis, reading reports of what was being done, and the inevitable debriefing after such a major battle. He was also making decisions and ordering other jobs to begin based on the data pouring into his office, something that he couldn't have possibly handled without CPO Mura's help. In the meantime, his XO took care of all the fine details and only bothered him when major decisions had to be made, such as which POs to brevet to Ensign where too many officers in a department had died.

He fell into bed after eighteen-hour work days, and even so felt guilty for stealing the sleep. But finally, days later, he thought he and the crew had a handle on the overall situation. He declared a twelve-hour holiday for all but the most essential personnel. He had one more thing to do and after that, the next thing on his own agenda was a long hot shower. Up until then a quick sluicing off had been all the time he took away from his duties. Not now, though!

***

"Hi, lover. Just in time for the unveiling, I see," Barbara Zembra said. She was visiting Bullet in sick bay where a corpsman was removing Bullet's last bandages, the ones that had been covering his whole left hand. As the last of the quick-heal strips came away Bullet flexed his fingers, the three he had left. His ring finger was missing. He examined his hand as if it were a new gadget he'd have to learn to operate.

"Oh no you don't!" Barbara said.

"Don't what?" he asked, puzzled.

"You're not getting out of marrying me just because you lost the finger your ring was supposed to go on!" She smiled beatifically, as if she had a secret.

Bullet grinned back mischievously. "Hmm. Hard to get married when there's no place to put the ring."

"We'll manage," Captain Keane said as he entered the sick bay. He wore the same expression as Barbara, one of a conspiracy against Bullet, poor man.

Before he quite knew what was happening Barbara was sporting a wedding ring, just as he was. Commander Dunaway, acting as the impromptu best man, had brought along Bullet's ring. He spread it apart and inserted the padded end into each nostril of Bullet's nose, then tied a string to it and handed the other end to Bullet's new wife.

"That's probably the most appropriate place for your ring, anyway, Sergeant Bullet," said Keane. "And since Sergeant Zembra's warrant for sergeant reached my desk an hour before yours did, that makes her your superior in the marines as well as domestically. Congratulations, and be sure to obey orders from your new supervisor!"

"Thank you, sir," Bullet said. He had to laugh, even knowing he was the butt of a joke that would make the rounds of the ship's crew at only a shade less than light speed. He suspected the whole thing had been set up as a morale booster for the crew once the decision had been made to take the time to get the two of them married. Not that he was about to complain, and not that he could at the moment anyway, not with Barbara's lips locked firmly to his!

***

Harriette looked at the underground CIN with awe and agitated anticipation. This was the center of the beast-and it looked like one, being a twenty feet tall circular dome, with a base over forty feet in diameter. The CIN had a small glowing dome directly on top, with lights flickering like neurons in a brain. The outer casing was a shiny material which looked gold-plated, with the ruins of com nodes here and there on its surface. Along the base ran transparent tubes a foot in diameter, each filled with cables that emanated a flamboyant light show. Three were lit, one line looked dead. All descended into the floor of the room after only a foot or so. Harriette suspected they were communication lines to every area of the city where the com nodes couldn't reach. Once Harriette started sampling the CIN innards she discovered that like the robots, the CIN system was a ternary data system, or three bits, versus the normal Earth computing system of two bit processing. That required a data converter attached to the two functional com nodes so that Eve could run an analysis in the two bit world. The converter wasn't complicated, but it greatly increased the amount of storage required since two bit processing was less efficient. The CIN Server, as Harriette called it, had various data formats (one symbolic, and two robotic). The symbolic was just plain Worm language, or as Doug called it, Sinchik. It wasn't coded in the true data security sense. But it may as well have been, since the Sinchik language was symbolic and very few could read the damn symbols-even the hostages. Harriette poured through some of that symbolic code projected to a screen with Doug and Clemmie looking over her shoulder.

"Doug, Clemmie, these repeating symbols over here, and here ...do either of you have any idea of what they mean?" asked Harriette looking at the readout on a lighted table.

Doug spoke: "Yes, I think that's the symbol for 'home', we have that symbol in our Welshass, which also means 'family'."

Clemmie shook her head. "Yeah, but we don't have that other symbol in front-I've only seen it at a Sinchik disposal ceremony, when they were dumping dead Sinchik bodies into their recycling tanks."

"I think I got it," said Harriette tapping on her TekPad. "Those two symbols are centered on what I think is a map. There are other symbols that I know are CIN symbols. See here." Harriette spread out a star chart of the Bolt Star system.

"Yeah," added Doug. "But you don't have the home world icon on this map, so if that's true, Xanadu is not the home world, just a normal CIN."

"Which is what I expected. When I look at this other map it seems to show the CIN home world to be in a section of the Galaxy I'm not familiar with, although I suspect one of our astronomers can figure it out. The exact location of that world appears to be embedded in a higher level robot language. I think it's used by older robots. I'll need to work with Eve on an algorithm to crack the next level. If you two can give me the best definitions you can on the symbols here, or even a guess, it'll help with the dictionary for our language interpretation."

Clemmie looked at all the symbols and frowned. "I know half or less."

"Me too," said Doug. "Let's just hope we both know different halves," he said smiling at Clemmie.

"Let's talk to the other hostages too, then we'll get back to you." Clemmie grabbed Doug's hand and held it softly.

"Thanks," said Harriette, noting Clemmie's affection and feeling somewhat jealous. She'd been too busy to really find a true soul mate-and for some strange reason, she'd fallen hard for Fred. But the robots took away his life just like one squashes a nuisance bug. And for that, Harriette swore she'd get revenge. She looked at the CIN Server and thought: You and I are gonna be real close the next few days ...I know that somewhere deep inside your system is a solution to your inner workings ...and if it kills me, I'm gonna get it ...I'm gonna find your weakness and destroy your whole evil race!

***

Keane came out of the shower vigorously toweling his hair. A solid ten hours of sleep and the hot shower had been wonderful. There had been no water for bathing at all when he'd lain down for some much needed sleep but CPO Mura informed him that his shower was functional again when he woke. He thanked her profusely and headed directly to his private head. He tossed the towel toward the hamper and stepped out into his bedroom, knowing Mura would have a fresh uniform and undergarments waiting for him in their usual place, draped across his bed. Instead, he found the clothing was hung neatly in the opened closet because the bed was already occupied.

"Don't bother getting dressed, Trent. You'd just have to take them off again," Cindy said. The sheet with the Captain's initials on one corner covered her only to the waist. She managed a wink although he could see the sadness behind it on her face. Just like him, she had lost many close friends and comrades.

"How did you manage to get up so soon? I would have thought you'd still be dead asleep after all the long hours you've been working."

"You, too, but it seems the powers-that-be decided to give us a few hours to ourselves before the conference. Commander Dunaway and Major Rambling conspired to set the meeting back by six hours."

He sat down beside her, slid the sheet the rest of the way off her body and stretched out beside her. "Isn't it nice to have people thinking about you?"

"Very nice, so let's not waste their efforts."

He gathered her to him. Mura had to ring twice to wake him and he found that Cindy was already gone. He smiled at the memory of the hour or so they'd spent making love before falling asleep again, and began getting dressed.

***

In another part of the ship, June Mundahan held Rambling tightly. He had cried out repeatedly in his sleep after they made love. She comforted him as well as she could, just as he had done for her only a few hours earlier. She thought they would both have nightmares for years to come. She woke him gently and told him it was time to go.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The CIN Empire

A great empire, like a great cake, is most easily diminished at the edges.

-Benjamin Franklin

Even after being woken so abruptly, Keane found himself feeling much better. He dressed quickly in the fresh uniform Mura had prepared and headed for the main conference room. When he arrived, everyone was present except for Harriette.

"She sent word that Ms. Aguilar will fill in for her, sir," Dunaway explained from his seat beside him.

"Any explanation why?"

"Just that she's getting into portions of the CIN that she thinks contains vital data and is afraid to leave for fear she'll lose it. She didn't say exactly what it is she's after."

"Fine. We'll proceed without her for the time being, and since I also have some vital information I suppose I should go first." He sipped at his coffee and scanned the faces looking back at him while getting his thoughts in order. Rambling, XO Dunaway, Commander Mundahan, Commander Levy, Lieutenant Wannstead, and Lieutenant Chavez attending via holocom from her sickbed where she was being treated for shrapnel wounds. She was there in lieu of Commander Manheimer, who had died of wounds sustained when part of a bulkhead had been sheared off.

Lieutenant Nguyen was present and looking very unhappy, no doubt considering all the damage to the ship. COB Berry sat in his chair with his ever-present coffee cup. He handled it clumsily because of burns to his bandaged hands sustained from lifting a crucial piece of equipment that needed special gloves to handle but which had been buried under a collapsed bulkhead sheeting at the time. He used his bare hands without the least hesitation.

Lieutenant Bogarty was gone. He had led a damage control party to the central com module when communications went down and unrepentantly stayed there until it was up again-but another hit opened the compartment to space and he was sucked out through the hole before he was aware of what was happening. Former CPO Jodie Lurmen was filling in and looking rather uncomfortable in the presence of so much brass. Doug Trevanne was there representing the former captives. It was a caricature of his normal core operations officers but it was all he had left, other than a few officers and key enlisted POs who were in sickbay and still too ill to participate.

"I'll begin by telling you that should we have to leave suddenly we'd be taking a grave risk." He let that sink in a moment. " Doc Travis can fly but Commander Levy and Lt. Commander White, our gravitics officer, as well as Lieutenant Wannstead, tell me it would be very problematical if we attempted to enter hyperspace in our present condition. Or in other words, we'd probably blow the hell up if we tried it." The chuckles around the table helped assure him that morale was still high despite the heavy loss of life they had sustained.

"Commander Levy, and his and the Bosun's remaining crew, assure me they can get the ship space-worthy again within another few days. It could actually make it into hyperspace now for a short period of time, if it was absolutely necessary, but Master Chief Berry has a few more repairs he'd like to complete before we try it, repairs he says will keep the ship from possibly disintegrating in hyperspace. Also, we may be cramped for living space since a lot of crew quarters were hit but at least we'll be able to fly.

"This may become very important since we've learned the courier ship we saw leave stopped here only long enough to pass on a report before heading on to the planet containing the next highest CIN in its hierarchy. We can expect them back but we don't know when. That being the case, I want to wrap up everything we feel is absolutely necessary, then proceed with secondary considerations.

"Ms. Aguilar tells me that Ms. Juenne and her techs, with the assistance of some of our Navy specialists and a few surviving electronics and physics engineers from the Wannstead ships, already have most of what we need from the CIN. I'll let her report, but I can tell you now that what they've discovered is absolutely vital to Earth and the future of our species. Every death suffered during the battle to capture the CIN intact was well spent. The marines and crew of Doc Travis, as well as our science specialists, can be proud of their fallen comrades. They gave their lives in defense of our whole species, and the ones who survived can be just as satisfied by knowing how much their hard-fought battle meant to us all.

"That won't bring them back but their sacrifice has gained us a great deal of advanced technology we can take back with us. Much of it, such as the energy weapons the robots and Worms used, can be adapted for human use, not only for weapons but in other fields. Now then, I believe our Chief Science Officer is ready to give us her report on what has been discovered from the CIN. Ms. Aguilar?" Keane had promoted her back to her previous position. There was no question of her ability, and quite simply, there was no one else of her caliber left to fill the position. He had asked her, very politely, to keep her political and social philosophy, and her beliefs, out of her report.

"Thank you, Captain," Aguilar said. Her demeanor appeared much more subdued than the last time she attended a Captain's conference, but her briefing was done with the confidence of a scientist who had ferreted out a puzzle and solved it with skill, sweat and intelligence. "I'm giving the briefing but everyone of the team working on the CIN, the Central Intelligence Node, played a part. I'll try to relate our discoveries in a kind of order but please note that we're still organizing the raw data." She sipped at her coffee while looking down at her notes, then began.

"First, the Worms are the original species, the first intelligence of the Worm/Robot combination. The Worms invented and developed computers and kept improving them, just as we have. There might be a lesson here for us because they improved them to the point of developing artificial intelligence for their robots. The robots were very smart. With the permission of the Worms they set up a central controller to help manage all the innumerable duties the robots were being tasked with.

"When a Worm/Robot team invented the quantum drive it opened the galaxy for colonization. Since the original home planet by this time was becoming seriously overpopulated, the Worm leaders suggested that their young be implanted with a microchip at birth. Using the data gathered worldwide from the chip-implanted Worms, the robots could then assess which Worms should breed and which should not. It was also thought the microchip implanted in all Worms would help in the many and varied work situations by using it to direct the robot activities. And for a long time it did indeed work as planned, but the Worms became hedonistic and lazy as more and more of their society's planning and operation was left in the hands of robots. The CINs, which were numerous at first, directed and operated almost all aspects of Worm society, including the expansion to other planets.

"In hindsight, it was inevitable that the robots, through their CINs and eventually a Super CIN, would take over Worm society completely. It was a gradual process and probably succeeded for that very reason: the Worms didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. From that point on, the Worms worked for the robots rather than the other way around. Eventually, the robots intended to do away with almost all Worms since robots were so much more efficient, but they weren't to that stage yet.

"Now here's a point that the science team believes will be a great help in our war against the robot empire. And yes, it is and will be total war, but I'll get to that in a moment." She paused to sip her coffee and a small smile crossed her lips as she noted the surprised look on Keane's face.

"The point is that while the robots are extremely intelligent, and become more so as you go up the hierarchy of robots, from big worker robot to smaller director robot to small CINs to larger CINs and finally to the Super CIN, they remain relatively unimaginative. They really don't do much original thinking and are not very inventive. That should give us an edge in the war.

"And yes, war is inevitable because the CPU of the Xanadu CIN had a core directive, imitated from the Worms, of expansion into the Galaxy. There is no allowance or room for even a possibility of a CIN ever surrendering. They simply can't do it because it isn't in their core directives, and those directives can't be changed."

"Never?" Wannstead asked.

"Never. It isn't possible. The CINs of colony worlds will continue carrying out the expansion originally designed by the Worms. The only possible way the CINs could ever surrender would be if we could get into the CPU of each CIN and find a way to wipe out its core directive. But of course we'd have to fight our way to it, and if you think the Xanadu CIN was well defended, the one on the original home world is so well protected a single ship wouldn't get much past the outer fringes of the system, much less near the planet, and certainly not down underground to the Big Boss, the Super CIN. And before you ask, how did we gain all this information without getting into the Xanadu CIN's core directive? The answer is that we haven't. We're only reading its files, its archives.

"Having said that, if by some means we ever could get that far with the CINs, wiping the core directive should be relatively easy because the robots seem never to have thought of firewalls, complex passwords, or other defenses against outside non-physical attacks. All the CINs have are simple protective programs to prevent accidental harmful orders. The CIN readily gave us its data and allowed access to its archives once we learned the Worm computer language. And I believe we can extrapolate from this that all CINs will be essentially the same."

"So basically, we'd still have to use the brute force approach like we did here at Xanadu," Keane said.

"We think so, according to the Worm language we decoded in this CIN. There are two other robot languages in the CIN, and we've basically translated one. The other we think is just like a CIN Operating System, something like the TekPad OS. Professor Juenne is frantically working on that one, and I think she's close to a breakthrough."

That must be the reason she missed the meeting, thought Keane. "What about the Super CIN. Do we really think it'll be that easy to change the directive?"

"It's somewhat speculative, but according to our current data it appears to be so, sir. And so far as we know, it will have to be done on each colony world and the home worlds, those first colonized, and then the Big Boss on their original home world. Just as the robots have a hierarchy, the CINs do also. The newer ones are subservient to the older ones. Each new CIN is a copy of the original CIN but with an added code making it subservient to the next oldest CIN, all the way up to the Super CIN. In case anyone is interested, the Worm name for the world where they originated is Basik, which you can probably guess means Earth in Worm language.

"This might be a good place to relate that during expansion into a certain area, such as the Bolt Cluster, they expand by building only one city per planet until they control the cluster and then go about developing the individual worlds. We've seen the mines they use for metals and other materials and their transport ships. And by the way, it's a good thing Captain Keane decided to nuke the mines and the transport ships or the robots would have sent the ships into the fighting. They aren't armed but they would have readily crashed into our ship or shuttles."

"What did you mean when you said 'developing', Ms. Aguilar?"

"Oh. I meant they use the complete resources of a solar system to expand construction from the original city to cover the habitable portions of the planet. When the resources are used up to the point where they are sufficient to only sustain the robot and Worm population, then it stops and they move on. We won't find any planet of theirs over-populated by our standards." She turned over the last page of her notes. "And that concludes my briefing on what we now know for certain about the robot and Worm society and how it functions. Anything else will be speculation unless Harriette discovers something new-and she said she thinks she's on the verge of finding something vital."

"Thank you, Ms. Aguilar. That was a very good brief. Now let's all take a few minutes to freshen up our coffee cups before we begin speculation, as Ms. Aguilar termed it. Personally I prefer ' brainstorming' as the term to use." He smiled at her to show he meant no animosity at changing reference. "Also, I've decided that all those who think their ideas might flow a little freely with some brandy added to their coffee may indulge. One shot only, though!"

His suggestion was readily accepted. Soon they were reseated with fresh coffee cups. A delicious aroma of brandy-laced coffee permeated the air around the conference table, lending an atmosphere of relaxation to the discussion.

"Now that we've all got something a bit headier than mere coffee to stimulate our brain cells, I believe we may as well take some time to speculate on our findings. Our superiors on Earth, the Navy, and the President and Congress, will be asking for our conclusions and recommendations, and that's over and beyond the factual report I'll be submitting. So-who'd like to begin?"

"I believe our military and political superiors need to be aware that the ...the ...can we just refer to the Robot/Worm society as the CIN Empire?" After accepting nods of affirmation from everyone, Rambling continued. "They need to be aware that the CIN Empire is quite capable of building much bigger and more heavily armed interstellar warships than us."

"Why is that?" Lieutenant Nguyen asked.

"It's just a simple matter of logistics. Robots don't need food or water. All they require is an oil change now and then." He paused for the inevitable chuckle. "Seriously, that's why. We've learned that their interstellar ships don't have that many Worms in the crew. Lan, you're the environmental specialist. You should be able to compute what a difference not being required to carry all the supporting material for organic beings would mean in terms of being able to supply the ships with heavier armaments and bigger thrusters for intra-system maneuvering. Just think of our shuttles during the fight. If it hadn't ended when it did, they would have been out of action for lack of power for their thrusters. It was a close thing as it was."

"Got it. And good point, Steel," Keane agreed. "Next?"

"I think we need to recommend, and recommend very stridently, that a program be instituted immediately to build planet-buster bombs. We may need them before it's over with," Rambling said.

"I agree," Cindy Cantrell said. "However, we may have to use them on our bleeding heart liberals first."

An explosion of laughter greeted the statement. Even Aguilar had to laugh.

"I hate the thought of this," Wannstead began, "but we know they did take some captives back to their home worlds. We know they were using humans as slaves here and in the other cities. They were also experimenting with inserting chips in human brains. In my opinion, I believe the robots were trying to find out if we would be suitable candidates to either replace the Worms or to supplement their services. I think we're more versatile than Worms, at least in their chipped state.

"I may be wrong, of course. They could have something entirely off the wall in store for us if they succeed in conquering us, but whatever their motives in keeping humans as slaves, it can't be good. They may be attempting to create a group of Quislings from their captives." He lifted his cup and inhaled the aroma but set it down without drinking. "I believe we should emphasize that fact in our report. It might motivate the politicians to gear up for war faster than just about anything else. It might even help unify our various governments, to an extent anyway."

"Very good, Brian. A very good point!" Kean said emphatically.

"The Worms were also used by the robots for some tasks they aren't suitable for, Brian," Aguilar added. "The robots may want humans for the same reason, but even more so. They have to have noted how versatile we are. While the robots aren't very imaginative, they are very intelligent. Very."

"How about the babies we found that have already been chipped? Is there any hope for them?" Keane asked.

Aguilara shook her head. "Possibly, but I don't hold out much hope. We'll take them back with us, of course, but I have little hope of them recovering. In fact, at this point, I don't even know if the chips can be safely removed. If they can't, and as horrible as it sounds, I'm going to recommend euthanasia for them. Otherwise, if we have a long war, they could grow up and be very receptive to beamed orders from robots, if they were close enough to receive them."

Keane's appreciation of Aguilar suddenly improved a great deal. It took a lot of guts to state flatly that babies should be killed rather than chance them becoming traitors as adults. He could just see how that would go over in some factions of Earth political parties.

Baby killers!

That would be one of the kindest epithets thrown at them.

Master Chief Thomas Berry, Chief of Boat, often referred to as Bosun, was generally quiet during conferences where high ranking officers were present, but he was never loathe to submit an opinion when he thought it was called for. He sought Keane's attention with his gaze. Keane nodded.

"Our recommendation should include the necessity to prepare for a long, dangerous and extremely vicious interstellar war, with casualties reaching proportions never seen before. We should tell our superiors to prepare for the possibility of whole worlds being demolished. We should also tell them we need to be ready to demolish the robot ...the CIN Empire worlds. We should be prepared to show no mercy because we can't expect it from the CIN Empire. And to that end we need to develop fleets of warships capable of fighting in space, fighting at both long and short range. To sum it up, Captain Keane, my personal opinion is that we should fight an offensive war right from the beginning, while at the same time building up planetary and system defenses. We don't know how the CIN Empire will go about interstellar warfare, but let's not let them get ahead of us. We need to ...well, I believe I've said enough."

"And said it very well, Chief," Keane exclaimed. "Any disagreement?"

"As much as I hate to say it, I have to agree with Chief Berry, with one exception," Aguilar said.

"And that is?"

"I think we should build, as rapidly as possible, an extremely strong strike force, but if we can demonstrate a clear superiority over the CINPire-and Chief, that word is easier on the tongue than CIN Empire-then perhaps they might surrender, or at least come to terms with us. I would like to give the Worms a chance to be freed from the slavery they're subjected to now. After all, they're the only other organic sentient species we've discovered."

"Noted," Keane said. "I believe that is a good point. Any disagreement?"

There was none.

"Do we have any more..." Keane looked toward the conference room screen that had suddenly lit up.

"Captain Keane, control room com station. We've just picked up an armada of ships entering the system. First passive reception scan indicates the ships are of robotic origin, on a vector directly toward Xanadu."

Shit! Keane thought immediately, then forced a calmness into his reaction. "Give me the time to arrival, time until in range of their known weaponry, then multiply that by a factor of two and give me that and a minimum time until we have to launch to escape. Connect your circuit to Lieutenant Chavez in sick bay immediately and have her confirm your figures."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Ensign Lurmen, bring up the relay circuit from Ms. Juenne in Xanadu and put it on the second screen immediately!"

"Aye, aye, sir," the new Ensign said smartly.

A moment later Harriette's visage appeared, bearing an annoyed expression. "Captain, I'm in the midst of delicate probing of the CIN here. I've gotten into the second robot language, I can't-"

"An incoming robot armada has just been detected. You need to close up operations and head for the surface immediately!"

"Hold one," she said.

Keane's other screen called for attention. "Captain, Lieutenant Chavez here. I have data for you."

"Give, quickly!"

"On the present bearing we have barely an hour until we must launch if we intend to get away before the armada is in possible range of firing missiles that are much faster than our ship."

"Thank you." He switched to Harriette's screen. "You have one hour to get to the ship," he said without preamble. "I know it will take you forty minutes to reach the surface. You must leave now."

"Captain, I can't and won't. I am right on the verge of pulling vital, and I do mean vital, data from the CIN down here."

"Harriette, I can't risk the ship. You must know that," he said in more gentle tones. "And you must also know that I intend to set off the nuke we've prepared just as soon as we're all safely away from here. You have to either leave now or you'll die there."

"Then I'll just have to die if I don't get this done. I'll leave this circuit open so you can follow my progress. Now please leave me alone while I'm working." Her image moved out of the frame of the screen."

"Bosun, announce all hands to battle stations. Launch in fifty five minutes."

The clangor of the call to arms rang throughout the ship. Chairs in the conference room were pushed aside and the group moved out with Keane in the lead. Some headed for the control room, others to their stations. All of them hurried but made certain not to affect an air of panic.

Keane took his station in the control room, suited for space warfare in the ship suit that would hold air for over an hour in an emergency, giving the wearer time to climb into the more cumbersome spacesuits.

"Ensign Lurmen, keep that circuit to Ms. Juenne open and record continuously. Priority one."

"Aye, aye, sir. Open and recording."

Keane lit his own Captain's screen. It was filled with vector arrows and figures beside them, red icons for enemy ships and times and distances for various options in easily read tables at the bottom of his screen. Off to the side a chronometer ticked off the minutes and seconds. Below and to the right of his board a red icon blinked in a steady, metronomic reminder of the terrible power it represented. It was covered with a transparent overlay that prevented accidental initiation of the nuclear weapon buried in the heart of the alien city of Xanadu. It was very near the CIN where Harriette still worked.

Down far below the surface of the alien city, Harriette fumbled with a strand of muli-colored wires and connected them into her lab equipment. Her breath steamed in the cold pit where it was probably only forty degrees or less. The CIN had cooling tubes that kept critical systems well below freezing. Harriette's fingers moved slowly while carefully attaching wires to a digital circuit board that connected to a converter and then a signal analyzer. She wanted to rush as she knew her time was limited-but her hands were cold, and each connection had to be correct for the translator to work. She'd earlier hacked into a robot language fiber optic line by cutting the cable shield and bending the fibers just enough so that light escaped, but careful enough not to break them. It was an old Earth hacker trick, but effective if you had physical access to fiber optic cables.

She then used a sensor to read the light patterns and translated the code with her attached TekPad. This was connected to Eve via a wireless relay to a newly deployed SAT, and then to the Doc Travis. While she scanned the data she monitored a key processing section of the CIN server, or what appeared to be a massive central computer processing node that contained historical instructions from the next higher up CIN.

This section of the CIN had supercomputing chips just like Earth was building-but these were special ternary vector-scalar processing chips, and somehow operated faster than seemed theoretically possible. It would have taken a warehouse of Cray computers to match this section of CIN Server. It had to be a key part of the server and robot data was being extracted. If only she could get the language code responses correct. Each time Harriette thought she had found data it failed on the authorization code. Everything else was unsecure, so this didn't make sense. Frustrated she stopped to think-and then it came to her. She overlaid a master robot authority code she'd earlier discovered from the larger robots. This triggered a new response and Harriette focused on locking into the database.

"I think I'm almost there Captain."

Her fingers were flying over a makeshift workstation and its function keys. As she made calculations with one hand she used her other to implement the figures while constantly watching several different gauges. Keane could tell little of what she was doing other than that it involves esoteric (to him) electronic delving into the very core of the CIN. As she probed and changed leads and reset gauges she kept up a constant monolog of what she was doing until she was finally down to circuits where the CIN kept its oldest archives, those that had been duplicated again and again over decades and centuries.

"Here it is, I think. Now I need to authorize with the historical subprocessor. It's running at over ten petaflops per second! I'll need to buffer ...

"I got data but I still need to translate it ... I need another key ...ah, here it is. Now let's collate it with the interpreter program and ...it's got a pattern-good! Okay, you bastard, now give!"

Keane glanced at the chronometer. It was already down to twenty minutes, far past the time that Harriette should have left if she intended to live. She had no chance at all now. He looked at the viewscreen and saw Harriette smile and then cry. Her face looked pale and shocked. "Harriette, what do we have?"

"Captain, I'm able to get the robot home world hierarchy-it's what we read earlier but more detailed ...I think we missed something though with our earlier translations. I now have the exact location of their home world! And other CINs ...but the pattern doesn't look good, they're like a virus ...I'm sending it to your command viewscreen and Eve for analysis."

Keane looked at the ship's viewscreen and saw a slew of red dots splatter across the galacto maps. They scattered from a location thousands of light years from the Bolt Star cluster, but he could see how it was slowly progressing and expanding everywhere in that part of the galaxy. Also, there were hundreds of CIN planets surrounding the CIN Empire home world. It was a dense part of the Milky Way Galaxy, with hundreds of suns and planets nearby, all with completed CINs.

Keane shook his head. "I don't think this will be a good place to explore."

"No Captain it won't-and I just got a clarification on the hierarchy. There are more types of robots. There're two Explorer versions, three Warrior models, and another home world Alpha model."

"Well, we've seen two of the Warrior models, and that's enough for me," replied Keane, staring at the incoming charts and data. "Hopefully we won't meet that third class until we're more prepared. This new technology we discovered may help."

Harriette shook her head. "No Captain, I just confirmed the model codes from the robots we fought, those were the two Explorer models. We haven't met the Warrior models yet."

Keane tried to keep his composure. "Well, we'll deal with that when we have to. You only have five minutes or so left Harriette. You and your work here will not be forgotten. I can't say in words how much we thank you."

"I'm not done yet. I've been working on something else ...the reason I stayed down here..." Harriette clicked switches and looked at her screen. "Got it!" she shouted. "Captain, keep recording. I'm setting this up for a continuous loop. Record for as long as you possibly can so that if static or a stray electron bounces a word off the record you can correct the data loss. God, how stupid a robot can be! I can hardly believe it!"

"Um, what do you have, Harriette?" Keane dared to interrupt and ask.

"What? Oh. These stupid CINs have kept duplicating over and over right from the very beginning of their existence, even to back before they took over from the Worms. You know what they've been duplicating? A program that will purge its CPU completely! The CINs can send out a refresh code with no update, just a deletion. That's what took me so long, figuring it out. But I have it now and you're getting it. Just be damn sure you have multiple records of it. Now, by God, all you'll have to do is fight your way into a system and land, then capture a robot and have it broadcast the code."

"That's all?"

"I need to check one more thing, but theoretically you should be able to give this code to a robot, any robot. I've fixed it so that once a robot gets the code, it'll automatically send it on to its superior, which might be another higher up robot to the CIN itself, but it'll get there! Hell, you might even be able to figure out a way to have the CIN that receives it send it on to its commanding CIN via courier ship! It would take out every one of them on the planet you're on! But there's just one over-ride I'm having Eve try to crack. Eve, any status on the RIPC?"

"I'm sending possible patterns now," said Eve.

Harriette looked at her screen and frowned. "Well ...it looks like it'll work ...but it looks like there's one more catch. Let me check the code sequence ...ah jeez ...no."

"Harriette, we don't have much time. What's the catch?"

Harriette frantically hit keys. " Eve, is this data correct?"

Eve's soft voice responded. "Yes, the Robot Internal Protecting Code can only be accessed via a model A-1, or Alpha model. With physical access your algorithm to wipe all internal processing systems with a zero update would operate as you suggest."

"Captain, for this to work, it looks like we need to capture an Alpha Robot ...but ...but I think they only reside on the home world."

Shit! A world protected by hundreds of CINs and Warrior robots that are probably much better at fighting than the Explorers that almost wiped out the Doc Travis. But it was still critical data. "Harriette, this is vital information that could save Earth. You did great." Keane fought back a tear as he saw the time drop to five minutes before he had to explode the nuke.

"I wish it was better news ..."

"Harriette, I'd sacrifice this whole ship to safely get the CIN Empire maps back to Earth, let alone the robot kill-codes you discovered. You may have given us the key to shutting down the whole CINPire."

Harriette sat down on a cold rock. She felt satisfied with her sacrifice. Somehow she knew things would get real tough for Earth and that her small role might make the difference for the whole species. What more could a woman give to her race? Hell, this was really for Fred, and she knew it. She'd fallen in love with him but the robots took that all away. "Good bye Captain."

"You know I have to set the nuke off, don't you?"

"Of course I know. When those fuckers killed Fred, I made a vow I'd pay them back. And this is it. I hope and pray that the maps and intel help us destroy these bastards."

"The whole of humanity won't be enough to thank you properly, Harriette."

"I don't care about that. Now if you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to be alone for whatever time I have left. I don't want to know how long after you leave before you set the bomb off either. Let it be a surprise to me."

"If that's how you want it. Again, thank you. And I will recommend you for the highest award a civilian is able to receive. Bless you, Harriette."

"Just make sure you destroy this evil empire. That's all I want. And now good bye, Captain. It's been a pleasure."

Keane wanted to answer but she had already cut her receiving circuit. Only the broadcast relay continued sending its unending loop, repeated every three minutes and fourteen seconds.

***

"It's time, Captain," Commander Dunaway said softly. The Doc Travis had launched over an hour ago and was now outbound, getting ready to enter hyperspace where the enemy armada couldn't follow unless it knew where they were headed-and it didn't.

"Thanks, John. I'll do it now." He flipped the cover off the steadily blinking red icon. "Good bye, Harriette. God Bless."

He pushed down on the button and waited. And waited. The signal sped from the ship at the speed of light but it still took time to reach Xanadu. The big screen focused on the planet had a timer counting down to the final seconds but it seemed to take forever to reach zero. When it did the screen blazed with white static. The polarization continued for long moments before it again showed a view of the planet, seen through the ship's most powerful telescope.

A huge purple and orange mushroom cloud was rising from the site of Xanadu and the burial ground of Professor Harriette Juenne.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Future of Wannstead Industries

Olson Wannstead hugged his son with a force that promised cracked ribs before he finally relented. "God, Brian, your Mother and I had lost hope that you were ever going to return. I can't begin to tell you how grateful and relieved we are to have you back." He hugged him again, briefly, then relented. "Have a drink, then you can tell me all about what happened out there. Or as much as you can. The Navy is keeping some of the tightest security I've ever heard of, and from the looks of the Doc Travis, you must have made it back here with spit and chewing gum holding the ship together!"

Brian laughed. He took the proffered glass of his father's favorite brandy and seated himself across from the older man. An inscrutable smile played across his features.

"Come on, son. Give! I can tell you're about to burst with the news!"

Brian laughed again. "I guess I am, Dad. I can't tell you much now, but I can say that the Navy is going to release a lot of data and recordings of our venture into the Bolt Cluster."

"Well, what can you tell me?"

"Um ...I can say this much. We know what happened to our lost ships now. The enigma has been solved, Dad."

"It has? Good. Now I can retire and let you take over running the business."

"I said the enigma has been solved, Dad. You may not want to hear about it, though."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because you're not going to be able to retire. In fact, Wannstead Industries is going to be very, very busy for the rest of our lives."

"I think I'd better have another drink."

"Make me another one, Dad, then I have to go tell Emily that I'm going to be very busy, too!"

People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf. - George Orwell

The End

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Xanadu

Chapter Two: Skunk Work Space Work

Chapter Three: The U.S.S.S. Doc Travis

Chapter Four: Sinchik Slavery

Chapter Five: Nice to know I'm wanted

Chapter Six: Clementine

Chapter Seven: Bug Eyed Monsters

Chapter Eight: Steel

Chapter Nine: Bolt Cluster Planets

Chapter Ten: Return fire!

Chapter Eleven: War Plans

Chapter Twelve: Resistance is not futile

Chapter Thirteen: Million of the Bastards

Chapter Fourteen: If Opportunity Presents

Chapter Fifteen: Worm Soup

Chapter Sixteen: Robots Fight!

Chapter Seventeen: Smarter and Stronger

Chapter Eighteen: It didn't fool Eve

Chapter Nineteen: Horrid Remains

Chapter Twenty: The Devil will get you for being Evil

Chapter Twenty-One: Alien race relations?

Chapter Twenty-Two: Here are the Formulas

Chapter Twenty-Three: Devil's Den

Chapter Twenty-Four: Fire Lasers! Now, now, now!

Chapter Twenty-Five: Die, you bastards!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Hotter than Hell!

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Central Intelligence Node

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The CIN Empire

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Future of Wannstead Industries