3
The conference room of the Jefferson lacked enough chairs; its temperature thermostats were failing to kick on at a decent cycle, making the room too hot; and the science officer’s monotone made concentration difficult.
“After exhaustive analysis of the log recordings, we have been able to determine power utilization curves of the alien vessels. Our findings indicate that they—”
“We’ll worry later about how fast they can go,” interrupted the admiral. “I want to know where they came from.”
The science officer sighed and shifted her gaze to Captain Lewis. The captain, however, sat glumly in his chair and glowered at the far wall. As well he should, for men with better track records than his had found themselves out of a job for lesser mistakes. The admiral had come aboard the Jefferson in dress uniform, medals blazing upon his chest, and was escorted by a full complement of adjutants. There had already been a formal ceremony of transferring the admiral’s flag to the Jefferson. Lewis had made no protest. He hadn’t a leg to stand on, and he was experienced enough to know it.
Thus far the admiral had not spoken to Lewis any more than was necessary. He had not referred once to the fact that Lewis had nearly destroyed the helpless squadron or had nearly killed his son and his son’s crew. There had been a long moment when the two men stared at each other. The admiral’s blue eyes had been like ice, and Lewis had looked away first. Lewis’ own conscience could twist him harder than any reprimand.
“Well?” repeated the admiral. His cultured, well-modulated voice sharped only a fraction, but it was enough to make the science officer flinch. “Any theories?”
“Yes, sir. We first considered the idea of an invisibility device, due primarily to the fact that you encountered no anomalies prior to Blue Squadron’s disappearance. But our physics is not advanced enough to find a solution to the problem of the tremendous amount of energy necessary to render a whole squadron invisible.
“That leaves us with the idea of a parallel universe.”
“And an interstitial interphase. Yes,” said the admiral. He glanced at his son, and Kelly raised his eyebrows. Kelly hated conferences. He preferred to do his theorizing on the way to the action. “But it seems an erratic way of opening a door to an invasion.”
“They may not be planning an invasion,” said the science officer. “It could have been purely a reactionary move. They were startled by Blue Squadron’s passage through the door, and they—”
“Don’t speculate where you aren’t called upon to do so,” said the admiral.
The science officer turned red. There fell a moment of silence.
Kelly leaned his elbows upon the table, which was marred by old coffee rings and worn, discolored patches. “As I understand it, interphasing is erratic,” he said. “Could they have—”
“Interphasing is only one means of contact between parallel universes,” said the science officer, recovering her composure. “The more accepted theory is derived from maximal geometry, in which for every Schwarzschild black hole there is a counterpart on the other side called a white hole.”
“Ah,” said the admiral. “We considered wormholes, at least until those devils came swarming out of nowhere. But not white holes.”
“That won’t work,” said Kelly. “We could go in through a black hole, but they wouldn’t be able to come out at the same point. If I remember my old physics course correctly, matter can’t enter a white hole. That would mean they have to have a nearby black hole on their side in order to come into our universe.”
“Well, there wasn’t a black hole there,” said the admiral shortly. “As for a white hole, I wouldn’t know one if I ran into it.”
Lewis snorted to himself as though he could bear to keep quite no longer. “Mathematical poppycock,” he rumbled. “Nothing proven.”
The science officer looked more nervous than ever. Kelly felt sorry for her, caught between the admiral and Lewis.
“There is also the possibility of time travel,” she said. Everyone looked at her, and her gaze shifted about rapidly to avoid contact with anyone. “Of course that requires a rotating black hole. With two horizons, the space between becomes time. With each interchange, or the point of intersection between space and time—”
Lewis snorted even louder.
“Well,” faltered the science officer. “As I said, these are only theories.”
“Yes, and next you will have us traveling to negative space.” Lewis spun his chair about and slapped the conference table with his palm. “Or playing with closed time loops. Poppycock, all of it! The admiral has stated there are no black holes in the vicinity. I can’t imagine maneuvers being carried out near one in any case.”
“Unless,” said Kelly softly, watching his father’s hands, which were resting lightly upon the table, “for some classified reason that we haven’t been told, there is a manufactured black hole in Nielson’s Void for the purpose of—”
The admiral’s left hand twitched. “Don’t go off into fantasy,” he said with irritation. “Two centuries ago, we figured out that it was not economically feasible to make stellar-mass collapsars.”
“But not miniature ones,” said Kelly. “How about it? Has someone on the other side opened a gate into our universe, or is the Fleet busy punching holes—”
“No!” said Captain Serula, jumping to her feet. Until now she had been silent, sitting out of Kelly’s line of vision. She still wore her crumpled uniform. She had the white, glassy look of someone operating beyond exhaustion. “We were testing weapons, not trying to enter another dimension. And why can’t we do something about what’s happened instead of just sitting here talking about it? Why aren’t we going after them, trying to help them?”
“We will,” said Kelly. He had meant to goad his father, not this officer who must be feeling the unjustified, but understandable guilt of having been spared Blue Squadron’s fate by a fluke engine malfunction. “But we need to know what we’re up against first.”
She blinked, and the fierceness faded from her face. In silence she sank back into her chair. Kelly glanced around to find his father glaring at him. Kelly gave him a slight shrug of apology.
“If it is an invasion force,” said the admiral. “We must stop it at the source.”
“And if this is just the first gateway?” asked Kelly.
“Then we close it, and all the others.” The admiral stood up. “I want these disabled ships assisted back to Station 4. I want a direct transmission to Fleet HQ. And I want this kept bottled. No public discussion of it on Station 4 by anyone, at any level. If I know Jedderson, he’ll send out all the forces at his disposal. But in the meantime someone has to guard that area.”
Lewis rose slowly to his feet. Craggy and stocky in build, he had to look up to meet the admiral’s eyes. “I assume that the Jefferson is being assigned the job?”
“That’s right.”
Lewis pulled in his chin, making his jowls fold over his collar. “We are not at full power. We were in for repairs after that skirmish on the Salukan border. We aren’t—”
“You can move and you can fight. The ship will do,” said the admiral.
“Sir, I respectfully protest what I feel to be—”
“You feel to be what!” roared the admiral. “An unfair assignment? Scut duty? I don’t see guarding our galaxy from invasion as the bottom of a desirable action list. Need I add cowardice to your faults, sir?”
Lewis turned a dark shade of crimson. “I can answer that accusation at your convenience, Admiral!”
Kelly got to his feet, as did the others in the room. Consternation could be seen on every face. First Officer Jordan stepped up to Lewis.
“Sir,” he said worriedly. “You can’t challenge a superior officer to a duel. Regulations specifically forbid—”
“And etiquette is even stricter on that point,” put in one of the admiral’s better-tailored adjutants. “No officer may respond to a reprimand with a challenge.”
Lewis clenched his fists. “You don’t have to spout the rule book at me! I know the damned thing perfectly well.”
“Then you know that you are out of order, sir,” said the admiral sharply. “I am relieving you of the command which you show yourself unfit for. You may transfer your belongings to the ESS Dragon by 1430 hours. That’s fifteen minutes from now.”
“You can’t do that! You can’t take my ship! By God, I’ll have you charged for this. You and that oddball son of yours think you own the Fleet, think you can do as you please, run over whom you please, and never mind those of us who came up through the ranks the hard way. You’ll—”
The admiral made a small gesture, and Captain Lewis was cleared from the room, still shouting.
The quiet left behind was a relief. Kelly circled the table and came to stand beside the admiral.
“You handled that neatly,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Made him finish himself off. He’ll probably have to take a medical leave. He probably will never command a ship again.”
The admiral’s eyes flashed. “Medical leave, my foot. I’m having him charged with attempted murder.”
Kelly put out his hand. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” Then the admiral’s fierceness cooled slightly. “Because of you? Damn it, Bryan, the fact that you’re my son has nothing to do with that man’s incompetence. He destroyed a proto-class cruiser. There aren’t too many of those around. Now, don’t be a soft fool.”
Kelly stepped back, suddenly conscious that Captain Serula had remained in the room to witness this conversation. He glanced at her, but she didn’t appear to even be listening. Her face was pensive and tight with grief.
The admiral followed Kelly’s glance and his own expression softened. “Captain Serula,” he said with a gentleness that surprised Kelly. “I’m putting you in command of this ship. We’ll be setting course immediately for Nielson’s Void. Would you give the necessary orders, please?”
Serula looked at him as though coming back from far away. A smile lit in the depths of her gray eyes and slowly spread to the rest of her face. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
The admiral smiled back. “If you want any specific crew members from the Sounder or any of the other ships in Red Squadron, have them come over at once. We need the best we’ve got.”
Serula nodded and started out.
“One other thing,” said the admiral after her.
“Sir?”
“Get some rest. Consider that a direct order.”
She left, and Kelly faced his father.
“Is Serula up to this? She looks pretty shaky to me.”
“Nonsense. She’s a seasoned officer, as tough a commander as they come. She’ll bear up.”
Kelly had his doubts, but his father’s tone left no room for further discussion. Excusing himself, Kelly headed out into the corridor, took a few wrong turns, and finally managed to cross paths with Captain Lewis, on his way to the teleport bay. A young yeoman struggled to carry the captain’s gear, and Lewis walked alone, avoided by the gazes of his crew as he passed them in the corridor.
“Captain Lewis!”
At Kelly’s shout Lewis dragged his slumping shoulders erect and turned like an old bear at bay. He waited until Kelly caught up with him. At close range, his small eyes glittered.
“Come to rub it in?” he said gruffly. “How many officers have you broken between the two of you? I remember Commodore Santini, one of the finest men who ever lived. We were at Academy together. You mutinied, turned his crew against him, and ruined him in the last years of his career.”
The attack hit home. Kelly frowned to hide it, but Lewis had seen. He bared his teeth.
“I stood at court-martial,” said Kelly defensively. Inside he felt the old weariness. Would he never stop defending his actions in the Battle of Capellstran? Would he never stop paying for having been right? “I was exonerated of all charges. Santini wasn’t. The investigations were thorough.”
“They were rigged,” said Lewis. “All the old-line officers knew it. That’s why you dropped out of the service after your trial. You knew what would happen to you under another commander.”
“That’s untrue—”
“Oh, I know all about these old Fleet families. Generation after generation of service. The admiral thinks he’s God and you and your brother expect to inherit the universe after him.”
White heat flashed in Kelly’s face. For a moment he could hear nothing at all. His fists came up and in an instant he had Lewis pinned against the wall.
But the taunting satisfaction in Lewis’ face dashed cold reason over Kelly. If the captain could get him to strike him, that would undermine the admiral’s charges against Lewis and give the old captain a foothold back into the service. Kelly stepped back, breathing heavily in an effort to master his temper.
“It won’t work, Lewis,” he said. “We haven’t gotten where we are because of special favors or family reputation. You can brood on class differences all day long, but that doesn’t make them a reality. You made the mistake today. I didn’t. That’s all there is to it. I’m sorry you didn’t listen.”
“Go to hell!” said Lewis viciously, and shouldered past him.
Kelly watched him disappear around the curve of the corridor. Only then did he lean against the wall and wipe the perspiration from his palms. He still felt unsteady with anger that burned hot under his rib cage. The old prejudices from the first days of the Fleet had never been eradicated. Up-through-the-ranks officers versus Academy officers. Experience versus training. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, yet it seemed to get worse, to become more bitter, every year.
With a sigh Kelly went off to find his squad.
Looking odd in their civilian clothes, they’d collected in a rec room, where all of the game equipment looked as though it had been disconnected. The air had the stale, too-often-recycled smell of old compressors. Kelly realized for the first time that the Valiant was truly gone, and her newness and beauty with her. His home ... and theirs.
His gaze swept their faces, then he abruptly turned away and dropped into a chair.
Caesar approached him. “Have some coffee, boss. It tastes like heated bilge, but there’s nothing like raw caffeine to put you on the edge.”
Kelly took the cup. “Thanks.”
Except for 41 and Ouoji, who prowled the farthest perimeters of the room like a pair exploring their cage, everyone huddled close to one another in a seating U around a blank game table. The Valiant had been their reference point. Now they looked at Kelly, lost, as though he was all they had left.
“Something wrong, Commander?” asked Beaulieu.
His head came up at the clinical question. “Not beyond the obvious.”
“Did you get that cosquenti Lewis?” asked Phila angrily. “How long do we have to stay on his ship?”
“It’s not his ship any longer. Captain Serula has been placed in charge, and Lewis is on his way back to Station 4.”
Caesar tipped back his head. “There is justice in this galaxy!”
“Good going, Commander!”
“I didn’t do it,” said Kelly sharply, putting his untasted coffee aside. “The admiral tossed him.”
Phila grinned. “Your daddy. Same difference.”
Anger flashed through Kelly, but he curbed it hard. This wasn’t the time to lose his temper. Still, Caesar saw it and elbowed Phila to be quiet.
“So what happens now?” asked Siggerson quietly. “Do we return to the station? West isn’t going to be happy with us, leaving without authority and getting the Valiant blown to bits.”
His voice as he spoke was level and controlled, but his eyes were hard with reproach and blame.
“No, we’re under mission now,” said Kelly, deciding this was as good a time as any to tell them. “The admiral has asked us to assist him.”
“What’s cooking, boss? I smell fish,” said Caesar.
Kelly told them all that he knew. While he was talking 41 wandered back to join the group, standing slightly apart. When Kelly finished, 41 was the first to speak.
“They sound like the Invaders. The Old Ones who raised me spoke of them. But they were said to have been destroyed by the Svetzin.”
“The Svetzin!” said Siggerson in surprise. “That race was extinct at least a thousand years ago.”
41 shrugged. “The Old Ones had long memories. Is there a tape of these who attacked?”
“Just of their ships,” said Kelly in curiosity. The odd quirks of 41’s past never failed to amaze him. He pointed at the viewer, and 41 crossed the room to activate it. Kelly had to clear 41’s request, and then they were all crowding around to watch the tape. By now heartily tired of watching the battle, the disappearance of the four ships, and the sudden appearance of nine black-hulled marauders, Kelly leveled his attention upon 41 ’s lean, bronzed face, watching it for any hint of recognition.
But as usual, 41’s expression gave little away of what he was thinking. He watched with total concentration, seemingly oblivious to the others’ comments, and when the tape ended he requested a second run-through.
“Well?” said Kelly at last.
41‘s tawny eyes met his. “They are the same. The pattern of attack and the black-hulled ships. These are old tales that I heard many times, of their coming into the skies as locusts, engulfing a world and slaying all upon it, only to depart as rapidly as they came. It was said they searched for a world to make their own. Yet none ever satisfied. They could not be frightened for death meant nothing to them. Life meant less. They showed no mercy to those they vanquished. They took Saulis, Amazeran, Koth—”
“Koth!” said Beaulieu, frowning. “But these are mythical civilizations, legends never proven.”
“They flourished until the coming of the Invaders,” said 41. “Then they were no more. The Svetzin arose and pulled together the mightiest fleet of their long history. They sought out the Invaders and attacked them. They journeyed to the gateway and found it as this tape shows, a shimmer in the void, nothing seen and therefore unable to be closed. The Invaders fought like the ten furies of Halsbane, and yet the Svetzin had taken an oath to defeat them, unto the last drop of Svetzin blood.”
41’s eyes flashed fiercely. “It did take it. But they defeated the Invaders. And the last Svetzin ship journeyed through the gate that was not there, never to return. Thus it was closed for all time.”
“Until now,” said Kelly softly.
The others looked at him.
“Maybe,” said Beaulieu.
Phila’s dark eyes glowed over the tale. Siggerson frowned in skepticism. Caesar made a face and wandered away, shaking his head. Beaulieu stared at 41 with a thoughtful look as though she wanted to dissect him.
“Sounds pretty similar to me,” said Kelly. “What if they are the same people? What if they’ve opened another gate, and intend to come through again?”
“But that’s nonsense,” said Siggerson. “Why wait a thousand years? If they had the capability then, it wouldn’t have been lost—”
“It might have been. The Svetzin might have defeated them enough to set them back a long time.”
“No civilization holds the same goal that long.”
“None in our experience,” said Kelly. “We don’t know what we’re up against. The admiral said he felt a malevolence. He’s not prone to flights of fancy or even hunches. For him to admit something like that, it must have been a pretty strong feeling.”
“An old ghost story and you’re going to believe it?” asked Siggerson, looking from Kelly to 41. “I suppose next you’ll decide that we should go through that anomaly after the missing ships—”
“Why not?” said Kelly. They started to protest and he put up his hands. “Hear me out. It’s our job to perform tasks the Fleet can’t. Investigation and rescue, remember? We have to know what’s become of those four ships. If possible, we have to get them and their crews back.”
“They could be dead by now, smeared four millimeters thick on the surface of some rock,” said Siggerson in impatience.
“Then we’ll confirm it,” said Kelly. “That’s the job, people.”
“We don’t have orders from West,” said Siggerson. “Who’s decided this is our job? You?”
“That’s right,” said Kelly levelly. “The admiral asked for our help, and I’ve offered it.”
“The admiral,” said Siggerson despite Caesar’s warning tug on his sleeve, “sounds like he’s gone overboard on this invasion of the galaxy theory. He spooked when the ships winked out—”
“Wouldn’t you?” asked Caesar hotly. “Go stiff yourself, Siggerson. You’re just mad because we trashed the Valiant to save a few hundred lives. Pull together or ship out.”
Siggerson’s eyes were like charcoal in the white stretch of his face. “Ship out,” he said, nodding. “Not such a bad idea. I don’t know how I ever got roped into this outfit in the first place.”
Turning on his heel he strode away, calling to Ouoji as he went.
41 spoke at Kelly’s shoulder: “Do I stop him?”
Kelly shook his head. “It has to be free choice or nothing.”
“Good riddance,” said Caesar. “He never was a Hawk anyway. Nothing but a computer brain with a polarized nodule for a heart. Pilots are easy to replace.”
Phila shrugged and said nothing. Beaulieu, however, frowned after Siggerson as though she wanted to do or say something to bring him back.
Siggerson paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder. “Ouoji! Come here.”
Ouoji, who’d been sniffing delicately beneath a chair, now bounced out into the open. But instead of running after him, she sat down and wrapped her long, fluffy tail tightly around her feet. Her blue eyes slitted in disapproval.
“Ouoji, I’m going back to Station 4. If we don’t leave now, we’ll have to go on this cockeyed mission. So come along.”
Ouoji’s furry ear flaps lifted, then clamped tightly shut again. She made no other move.
After a moment Siggerson snorted. “I guess you’ve got some notion that you have to stay with the Valiant. Only there isn’t one anymore. Your duty is off. Understand?”
Ouoji flipped the tip of her tail to indicate that she did understand, but she did not move.
Hurt showed briefly in Siggerson’s face before anger replaced it. “Fine,” he said, and started out the door.
Ouoji leapt forward, dashing past Siggerson to cut him off. She faced him, coming only to knee height, but looking larger than usual with her fur fuzzed out. Her tail lashed from side to side, and she chittered long and angrily.
“She’s telling him,” said Caesar. “Go to it, Ouoji!”
Siggerson stood there until Ouoji paused, then he said, “This is absurd.” He started to step around her, but she wrapped her tail about his ankle and darted between his legs with a stout yank that toppled him off balance.
He went sprawling onto his backside. Before he could scramble up, Ouoji jumped onto his stomach and put her face in his, chittering more vehemently than ever.
Kelly exchanged looks with the others and started to smile.
“You’d better rescue him, boss,” said Caesar. “The last time I tried to pet her when she was all riled up, she bit my finger.”
Kelly went to the pilot. “Ouoji,” he said quietly. “Hey, Ouoji, lighten up. I think Siggerson gets the message.”
She ignored him and continued her tirade for several minutes, finishing with a series of little growls and a bump of her round head under Siggerson’s chin as though to show there were no permanent hard feelings.
At this point 41 scooped her up. She bounded to his shoulder and curled around his head to peer at Siggerson. Kelly touched Siggerson’s chest to hold him in place.
“Are you staying on the team?” he asked. He tried not to laugh openly, but the corners of his mouth kept curling.
Siggerson looked from him to Ouoji and back again. He grimaced. “I seem to have no choice. Commander Ouoji has spoken.”
Kelly laughed and gave him a hand up. “Good. We need you. I won’t deny that. And when this is finished, we’ll get another ship.”
Siggerson shrugged and said nothing. .
Phila activated the viewer and the screen showed the other ships pulling away. “It’s too late anyway,” she said. “Like it or not, we’re stuck with this job now.”
“One starship against 41’s race of Invaders,” said Caesar mournfully. “Do you think this hulk has a bar? I need a stiff drink.”