It was three days later when word came through. Cole, whose medication and dye job had added twenty-five years to his appearance, was having lunch with Sharon and David Copperfield in the mess hall when Rachel Marcos contacted him.

"Sir," she said, "the Octopus reports a sighting."

"Can you patch me through to him?"

"Yes, sir."

An instant later the image of the Octopus appeared before him.

"What’ve you got?" asked Cole.

"It looks like just what we’ve been waiting for," replied the Octopus. "A nine-man class-K ship, on a solo patrol. As far as we can tell there’s not another Navy ship within a parsec."

"Sounds good," said Cole. "Where is it?"

"Out past New Bolivia. I don’t know how long it will stay there, or where it’s going next, so we’d better move fast."

"I’ll have to check with our pilot to see how quickly we can get there."

"We’re heading there even as I speak to you," said the Octopus. "Our pilot recommends the Bonetta Wormhole."

"I’ll pass the word."

"If we get there first, I’m not going to wait for you," continued the Octopus. "I’m taking six ships with me, and calling in two from the general vicinity of New Ecuador, which is a light-year beyond New Bolivia. No sense letting this ship get away just because you’re a few minutes late."

"Just remember: I want most of them alive, and I want the ship to be able to limp back to port."

"I know," said the Octopus. "Wormhole’s coming up. It’ll kill the transmission in another—"

The signal went dead as the wormhole swallowed up the Octopus’s ship.

Cole took the airlift to the bridge and walked over to where Wxakgini hung suspended in his harness, attached to the navigational computer by long metallic tendrils that ran from the machine to his skull.

"Pilot, we’ve got to get to New Bolivia," announced Cole. "I’m told the Bonetta Wormhole is the quickest way."

"If it hasn’t moved," replied Wxakgini. "It’s very unstable. I’ll have to check it out." There was a momentary silence. "It seems fine today. We’ll use it."

"Transit time to New Bolivia?"

"Three hours and eleven minutes."

"Fine. Let’s go."

"Sir," said Christina, "it will take an hour or more for all the crew to get back to the ship."

"We’ll go without them. The Octopus is handling the shooting. All the Teddy R is doing is delivering me."

The ship took off for the wormhole, and Cole summoned Jacovic and Val to his office.

"I’m sure you’re both aware of what’s happening," he began.

"The freak spotted a Navy ship flying solo," said Val.

"Tactful as always," said Cole dryly. "We’ll be entering a wormhole in a couple of minutes, and will emerge in or near the New Bolivia system in about three hours. The Octopus will already be there, along with seven or eight more ships. They should already have incapacitated the ship and done pretty much the same to the crew by the time we arrive."

Cole paused. "You both have some inkling of my plan. Jacovic, you’re going to be in command of the Teddy R until such time as I return. Val, don’t contradict him in front of the crew, even if he’s wrong about something. And when he gives you an order, no arguing and no backtalk. You can get away with it with me because I’ve got a special relationship with the crew; most of them gave up everything they had back in the Republic to come to the Frontier with me. Jacovic is a newcomer, so don’t tease him and don’t hassle him; it will look like insubordination, not humor." He stared at her. "I mean it."

"I’m an officer aboard the Teddy R," said Val in hurt tones. "I know my duty."

This is a hell of time to show the first tender emotion I’ve ever seen from you, thought Cole. "All right," he said aloud. "Jacovic, you might as well start getting used to being the Captain. I’m turning over command to you as of this second."

The Teroni saluted. "I think I’ll go to the bridge," he said. "I know we have eight other ships taking all the risk, but I want to make sure we can back them up if we have to." He paused. "Have you any objection to that, sir?"

"You’re in charge," said Cole. "Who am I to challenge my captain’s decisions?"

Jacovic left the office as Val surpressed a chuckle.

"What’s so funny?" asked Cole.

"'Who am I to challenge my captain’s decisions?'" she repeated with a smile. "As I understand it, that’s exactly how you got to be Captain in the first place—by challenging your captain’s decisions."

"This is what I was talking about, Val. I don’t mind this kind of banter at all, but don’t use it with Jacovic. He’s a newcomer, and he’s a member of a race that every one of us was trained to fight against. He’s going to need all the support he can get."

"I know," she said.

"Fine. Now I’ve got to get Sharon down here."

"One last roll in the hay?" said Val. "I approve."

"You’ve got a single-track mind," said Cole. "She’s got my passport, my ID, and my biography. And Val?"

"Yes?"

"I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"That’s what captains are for," she said, leaving the office.

Sharon arrived a few minutes later with his new identity.

He was Leslie Ainge, he was a sergeant, his home world was Roanoke II, and he was sixty-three years old. He was unmarried, he’d seen action in the Battle of Verona, he’d been decorated for bravery and busted for drunkenness. By the time he’d committed all the details to memory he felt that he could stand up under normal scrutiny, perhaps even a bit more.

He stayed in his office another hour, to give the bridge personnel time to get used to the fact that Jacovic was in command, then went down to the mess hall for a sandwich.

He pulled up an entertainment holo and watched it until Rachel contacted him and told him that they had emerged from the wormhole.

"What’s the situation?" he asked.

"The… Mr.… the Octopus wants to speak to you."

"Fine. Put him through."

The Octopus’s image suddenly appeared opposite Cole. "Are you ready to go to work?"

"That’s what I’m here for," replied Cole. "How did it go?"

"Crew of nine. Three dead, six wounded, none fatally, but we borrowed some blood from the corpses and drenched the living with it. They look pretty awful."

"And the ship?"

"No way it will ever go light speeds again, but we can tow it to the Bassinger Wormhole, and that will let it off half a light-year from its base on Chambon V."

"How long will it take?" asked Cole.

"To get it to Chambon? Maybe two hours, using the wormhole."

"Will the wounded make it?"

"They’re not that badly shot up," answered the Octopus. "And we can tranquilize them, or even put them out cold until you arrive."

Cole shook his head. "No. The medics would spot it in two seconds, and the last thing I need is to be pulled in for questioning. With a little luck I’ll be out of debriefing before the patients are out of surgery, and I can lose myself on the base."

"One good thing," said the Octopus. "From what we can tell, there are close to thirty thousand men and aliens stationed at Chambon V. You just might sneak through. I was worried that with such a small ship and crew it might be the kind of minor-league outpost where everyone knows everyone else."

"Okay," said Cole. "I’m going to instruct my pilot to approach the ship. Just before we get there, find some way to knock out the survivors without killing them."

"We’ll just lower their oxygen," said the Octopus. "They don’t have that much as it is." A pause. "Why do you want them unconscious?"

"If they see me entering the ship, at least one of them’s going to remember it long enough to mention it to the debriefers. Better to have them wake up after I’ve got the ship moving and have taken control; they’re wounded, they’re groggy, they’re a bit oxygen-deprived; they’ll see a guy in a Republic uniform, and then they should go back to worrying about their own injuries."

"And you’re sure that’ll work?" asked the Octopus dubiously.

"It has to," said Cole. "The only alternative is to kill them."

The Teddy R reached the wounded Navy ship a few minutes later, and Cole prepared to transfer to the ship.

"One last thing," he said.

"What is it?" asked the Octopus.

"We need a code word, a recognition signal," replied Cole. "Assuming I live through this, I’m almost certainly going to have to steal a Navy ship, or at least a ship registered in the Republic, and I don’t want you blowing me out of the sky when I’m trying to get home."

"So pick a code word."

"Four Eyes," said Cole.

"Somehow I’m not surprised," said the Octopus. "Okay, by the time I get back to Singapore Station, every ship in our fleet will know it."

"Thanks," said Cole. "Here’s hoping I don’t need it."

And it was almost as if the cynical God of Overconfident Spacemen grinned and said: Well, you can hope.