 
## A Pattern of Details

by James "Matt" Cox
The story presented here is fiction.

Any similarity to any person living, dead or virtual is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2013 by James M. Cox, Jr.

Smashwords Free Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends.

This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, pleasereturn to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Version Code 170621

Books by James "Matt" Cox

A Pattern of Details

The _Dungeon Crawl Unlimited_ fantasy RPG system

_The Maze of Aeoklidias_ DCU Adventure (Free!)

DCU Map Card Pack, Set 1

Open Source Tools for Independent Authors

Books in the _Stone Blade_ series:

Stone Blade

Double Bait

The Radical Factor

The Burning Crown

Expedient Measures

Lethal Max

The Border Incident

The Blatant Prey

This book is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Isaac Asimov:

a true hero and role model for yesterday and all of its tomorrows.

# Chapter 1. An Ordinary Day

A screaming alarm woke Morris from fitful, nightmare-riddled sleep. When he breathed his throat burned from the deadly toxic compounds in the atmosphere. The air recycler, the source of the alarm, shuddered and shook to a halt. He donned his near-depleted respirator automatically as he tore into the balking machine. He didn't waste time cursing the lack of parts or the patchwork he'd already done. He didn't have the time for it. He traced the problem as quickly as he could and fixed it as best he could.

The recycler hummed raggedly back to life. Just before he fastened down the last access panel it died again. This time the repair was even harder and the unit didn't last thirty seconds before something else shorted and broke. He tried to patch it yet again but to no avail.

"It's gone," he said. Then, after a pause. "There's nothing more I can do."

As he fastened down the panels and gathered the useless, burned out parts Morris thought back along the trail of bad decisions and reckless actions that brought him here, starting with the first.

***

Guild Senior Master Technician Morris Taylor scowled and adjusted his holospecs. The complex circuit swam into focus and just that quickly he saw the problems with it. He applied a delicate touch of silver and two dabs of insulation. Most Techs would have used a precision guide but he didn't want to waste the time setting it up. A few scrapes of a cleaning probe later he had the major repairs complete and ready to connect. He set the thinner-than-a-hair optical fibers, spliced them into place and began extracting himself from the machine.

By the time Morris fastened down the access the machine, a line repair monitor, completed its powerup diagnostics and started integrating itself back into the building's net. By the time he reached the supervisor's office the line itself had reconfigured and started working up to full speed. Delvecchio Metal and Plastic now had a fully functioning hover-canopy production line.

Morris beeped the supervisor's office and entered. Lon Delvecchio, the founder's grandson, looked up with mild irritation.

"I've completed repairs," said Morris. "The line is ready for full load now."

Delvecchio's irritation turned to surprised satisfaction. He checked his terminal and smiled hugely.

"So it is. Very impressive, Technician. You know you were authorized another four days on this."

Morris shrugged. "No need for it. The repairs weren't that extensive."

"Well, I won't argue," said Delvecchio under a raised eyebrow. He pulled out his exchequer and scribed a chit. "Here you are, Seigneur Taylor. Thank you."

As Morris signed and sealed the repair order and receipt he noticed the bonus there. Most of his assignments calculated cost per repair time and he usually collected a hefty bonus.

As Morris walked to the linear station he ran his hands absently across his toolbelt. Though neither impressive nor imposing it was the sine qua non of effective and efficient repair. It consisted of a belt and harness festooned with tools, supplies and extensors but its true power came from the smartsystem hardfibered into it. From the first day a Tech started training he or she began learning the toolbelt even as the toolbelt learned its owner. By graduation and certification the Tech knew the toolbelt and the toolbelt knew its Tech on an automatic and almost subconscious level. By virtue of this Techs could carry and keep organized the myriads of specialized and general tools required for their jobs.

At the station Morris checked his chrono and examined the linear schedules. It was almost too early to call it a day but by the time he reached the Guildhall it would be too late for another assignment. Morris jacked into a public comm, checked his messages and smiled. He had exactly one, it came from his supervisor and it read 'Good enough, go home early.'

The second stop after he boarded the linear Morris rose to give a young lady his seat. She smiled briefly then started talking on her comm. Apparently she heard quite a bit she didn't like. Her expression fell and she looked ready to cry. She left at the next stop but he didn't try to reclaim the seat. When the hovertran sped up for a long stretch he felt several lurches and jumps that shouldn't be there. This particular linear would need servicing soon.

The linear finally pulled into Eastfaire South Plaza. Home. Not for the first time Morris regretted not living closer to the Guildhall. When he received his Junior Master cert three of his friends and former trainees convinced him to move out of the hall billets and into better quarters. His supervisor at the time supported the idea so Morris moved. Now two of the junior Techs and that particular supervisor had moved away from Dracos and into other assignments. Morris still had the same apartment they picked for him.

Shaking off that thought Morris walked over to the closest financial kiosk. He logged into his bank, deposited the chit and made his usual allocations to his brokerage. Even after the Guild deduction he had a respectable amount of money. As long as the Member Worlds of the New Stars Sovereign System States Trade League didn't collapse he had ample savings. He felt secure.

***

Morris sat in front of his powered-down holocad, idly contemplating his evening. Ordinarily he'd study for his upcoming assignments but he had none. He had long since read and digested the Guild technical journals and nothing in the civilian ones interested him. He'd cleaned and serviced his toolbelt and now it hung on its rack charging.

The apartment reflected its owner. The most comfortable chair and very nearly the only one sat in front of the holocad terminal. The pictures on the wall were holographic or flat circuit schematics or color-enhanced process flows. The odds and ends populating the spartan shelves and tables were kinetic do-nothings Morris built from parts too poor to recycle but too good to discard.

Inspiration struck with a growling stomach. He hadn't eaten out in a while and now, by the stars, he deserved a celebration. For his evening out he chose a white shirt with gray trousers and cloak. Guild colors. Before he left he slipped a penlaser and minikit into his pocket.

The Good Knight's Repose, his favorite restaurant, nested between a modart theater and a trend club, all of them New Renaissance themed. Nonetheless the Repose maintained an air of quaint hospitality along with a truly varied menu. With a nod to the hostess Morris walked toward the table in the corner.

"Morris. Mo Taylor. Here."

Morris looked around and smiled at the man waving to him.

"Kel. It's good to see you," said Morris as he approached the table.

"If that were true you'd do it more often," said Kelven McCrory, one of Morris' first trainees on Dracos and now himself a Senior Tech. "You must be celebrating tonight. Join us?"

As usual McCrory had a companion for the evening.

"No. I don't want to inter..."

"Blather," interrupted McCrory. "If you're out partying there must be a platinum reason for it. Have a seat, Mo."

Aware now of several amused looks on him, Morris sat.

"Po-larity," said McCrory. "Mo, this is Terri Jenkins. Terri, Morris Taylor. The best Tech on Dracos, no exceptions."

"Pleasure," smiled Jenkins.

"Umm... Likewise," said Morris with some difficulty. Jenkins was truly gorgeous.

"So what's the occasion?" asked McCrory. "You finally solve the Eleven-Space Unification?"

"Kel-ven," scolded Jenkins. "You be nice."

"I finished the Delvecchio assignment early," said Morris. "I didn't have another one in the queue so Reichsson sent me home early."

"Pyronic," said McCrory. "That's... Wait a milli. Wasn't that a two-week authorization?"

Morris shrugged. "I finished early. It wasn't really that hard, just a lot of detail work."

McCrory shook his head sadly then grinned wide. "That calls for some tunes, then. Don't leave."

Morris considered just that but Jenkins pinned him with a hand on his arm.

"Kelven was telling me about the Tech who trained him. Was that you?"

"Y-yes. He was a fast study but he liked to take short cuts."

She chuckled at that. "I believe it. Did you two really spend nine hours in an active fusion chamber?"

"Yes." Morris smiled at the memory. "Kel though we'd be cooked crispy but the chamber wasn't really that active. It was on sub-ignition hold and damped. Not even really fully active but there are a few things that can only be done within a hot chamber. It's considered good training for new or impatient Techs."

"But nine hours?"

"Well... We skipped lunch."

"Lunch," said McCrory as he sat. "I thought this was dinner."

"Fusion chamber," said Morris.

"Ahh. Hrm." McCrory cleared his throat. "I suppose it does make a good story. I ordered for you, Mo, so I hope your taste hasn't changed."

Morris shook his head.

"Slib. Now fusion chambers are interesting but we also spent time on an orbital station. That made me nervous, for truth. Not the danger of hard vacuum or solar radiation but about the slave-driver I had for a trainer. We hadn't even stowed our packs when..."

Morris sat back and let the words wash over him. McCrory made even the simplest tasks fateful and did so with a nodding acquaintance to the truth.

With the meal a pleasant memory McCrory talked Morris into a trip to the club next door. The Wench and Wagon was not a place Morris would have chosen but Jenkins added her request and he simply couldn't refuse. They found a table and waited for the current music, far too loud for conversation, to abate. Morris looked around uncomfortably, counting and calculating the ratio of ladies to men. The last song stopped suddenly and Jenkins, with a pat to McCrory's arm, grabbed Morris' hand and pulled him toward the dance floor.

Jenkins did her best but Morris simply could not dance. After the second time they bumped another couple he tried to keep a better watch which didn't improve his dancing. Or lack thereof. By the time the music stopped he moved woodenly at best. Jenkins smiled warmly but Morris knew there was no way he hadn't embarrassed her beyond repair. She leaned toward his ear.

"Thanks, hon. We'll do this again."

Morris smiled, more for the kind words than anything, but he knew the truth. In their absence McCrory ordered drinks. Jenkins took a quick sip of hers, grabbed McCrory and headed back to the floor. Morris found his drink stronger than he preferred. For some reason he didn't mind.

McCrory and Jenkins returned to the table halfway through Morris' drink. McCrory's skill at dancing rivaled his technical expertise and Jenkins' exceeded it.

"Oh, ruddy nice," said Jenkins.

She spoke as the band started blaring primate. They seemed determined to complete a full set and the harsh rhythm along with a complete lack of melody made conversation impossible. Jenkins cuddled up into McCrory's ear and Morris decided to give them some privacy. Besides, the air had grown hot and heavy.

Morris walked a casual few steps into the cool, damp air, grateful for the lack of noise. Tendrils of an ache tensed his shoulders so he worked to relax them. After a minute or so his ears quit ringing, his head cleared and he began entertaining thoughts of returning.

"Hi, doll. Light?"

When he looked up he found that voice attached to a very attractive lady with a drugstick and two companions.

"Umm... Hi," stammered Morris. He made a show of checking his pockets. "S-sorry. I don't... Umm... No."

"It's polar babe," smiled the lady. "Stay pyro."

The three walked away before Morris could unstick any words. Uncomfortable now, he started back into the club. Just outside the door a pair of ladies stopped to give him a heavy appraising look. Before he could even think to speak they visibly dismissed him and walked away.

As Morris walked home a dark mood settled over him. He carefully analyzed the evening, his mistakes and what he might have done differently. No optimal solution vector presented itself so he spent a hot shower modifying assumptions. Still nothing. Now clean from his shower he took a headache tablet, checked his messages and went to bed.

***

Morris sat outside his supervisor's office with no small curiosity. Upon awakening he found a message scheduling an early meeting. Though not unusual it was far from common. He typically received his assignments two or three at a time through the Guild netsite.

"Come in, Morris."

Jacob Reichsson always brought to Morris' mind a man carved of solid granite. His hands, one of which he held out, looked entirely too large and clumsy for delicate work but all who knew him knew better. Only his administrative skills, which surpassed his technical ones, kept him off the line. Reichsson himself didn't particularly like the fact but the Guild simply did not waste talent.

"You'll be wondering why you're here," said Reichsson, taking a chair and pointing to another.

"Yes sir. Did BidinCo file a complaint?"

"Hades no," said Reichsson after a moment to recall. "They were completely in the wrong. They knew it, we knew it and the Arbiters knew it. Drew Poltano saw their solicitors, looked at the initial grievance and offered to rip them open."

Morris winced at that. Poltano, an Arbiter with both seniority and experience, brooked absolutely no foolishness from persons within the Guilds or outside of them.

"For truth," continued Reichsson, "he informed them that not only did you comply to their altered work request but you provided another ten hours above and beyond without billing them. That much he told me. His secretary told me later that he was ready to pull Tech authorization for them and all their subsidiaries pending a full audit." He chuckled at this. "No, Morris, this is completely different. What do you know about the Halcyon Autonomous Region?"

Morris thought a moment.

"Light population density for its size. Not too far from here, decent economy, good trade relations with the League in general and the Brytan sector in particular. Border or proximity with several governments either controlled by or closely allied to the Consortium."

Reichsson nodded.

"Likely targeted for a Consortium takeover if they get the chance," continued Morris. "Not currently at war but capable against anything but a full Consortium push."

"Which makes them strong League allies," said Reichsson. "Navy Liaison contacted me officially. They're assembling a team for an extended mission there and they want to include a highly-qualified Tech. It will be for an extended tour and I want to send you."

Morris frowned at this. "I'm not up for another three months, sir. Why me?"

"Three reasons," said Reichsson. "The mission is an extended tour. You don't mind those or at least you haven't in the past. Second, they requested someone with at least a 3C clearance and yours is 4C. Finally, I trust your judgment both to represent the Guild and not to cause an interstellar incident."

Morris nodded. "That's sufficient for the official reasons, sir. What else is there?"

"Your observational skills," said Reichsson dryly, "along with a gut feeling.

"I don't know what Liaison wasn't telling me but I know for all the wine on Spiral there's plenty more under the garble. You're plus-plus sharp enough to handle it and handle it properly.

"By what I have you and several others are to train a group of students on certain aspects of League technology. This coincides with the transfer of several surplussed Navy ships to the Halcyon government. The military part of the team will be training their folks on those while the civilian members teach technology and science or at least our approach to it."

Training. That unsettled Morris somewhat. While he didn't mind training 'prentice Techs he didn't feel comfortable with more than one at a time.

"I know you don't like it," said Reichsson, "but I do want to send my best. So. Do you accept?"

"Will do, sir. When do I leave?"

Reichsson gave him a relieved smile and a box of datacubes. "Day after tomorrow, 0800 at the Navy side of the port."

Morris took the 'cubes and rose to leave.

"Morris... Thanks."

***

Morris took the datacubes to the hall library to review them. As he suspected he had at least a full day of work ahead of him. He started by digesting relevant information on the Halcyon Autonomous Region. Though it did not formally border the League most systems near the edge of the Brytan and Quinde sectors considered it so. From what Morris read so did many of the systems within Halcyon itself.

Although quite a distance from the Consortium Halcyon did indeed border or lay within proximity of five close allies, two of which the Consortium effectively owned outright. Almost between it and the League lay the Coral Nebula Federation, itself strongly influenced by the Consortium but with some League trade. As a result Halcyon had a good military infrastructure but a tight one.

Economically Halcyon was stronger than its neighbors, if only minimally so in several cases. More importantly their legal structure encouraged business both large and small and worked to keep all of them strong, much like the League. That as much as the military concerns made them staunch allies.

From the general information Morris moved into Halcyon's legal statutes, particularly the ones involving the Guilds. After a very shaky start Halcyon established very strong and very strict trade treaties. The strongest of these applied to the Merchant's Guild whose eagerness to flood the region with trade sparked early fears of a League takeover.

Morris felt himself smile as he read the summaries. Of the four Guilds Merchant's drew the most complaints, all from sheer eagerness. Those early negotiators in the Halcyon government wanted no part of a League annexation and erred on the side of isolation to prevent it. Thirty years of careful negotiation later they had an acceptable balance of League trade along with internal growth. The Merchant's Guild accepted willingly enough and began diligently trading within the bounds allowed them.

Technology-wise Halcyon was considerably inferior to the League. That surprised Morris not at all nor did its policy of self-development. While individuals might desire cutting-edge League tech the government and large corporations would use nothing they themselves could not manufacture or maintain. That suggested Morris' next avenue of investigation and a beep from his chrono postponed it until after lunch.

Morris chose a cafe across from the Guildhall. Techs and Guild support staff made up most of the people there and Morris waved at several he knew. He started for his corner booth when he saw McCrory staring at him.

"You are disgusting," said McCrory by way of hello. "You look like you've been studying all morning."

"I have. I went to bed early last night."

"As I said..." McCrory tried to hold a stern look but it quickly degenerated into his characteristic grin. "You left way too early, Mo. Terri has a friend. Sylvie. She likes Techs. She arrived after you so rudely departed. Smart, friendly and drooly to the point of thermal. And she likes Techs. Very disappointed that she didn't meet you. We're having a cozy dinner for four tomorrow night. That includes you, by the bye. Did I mention Sylvie likes Techs?"

Morris felt a cold knot forming in his stomach.

"Sorry, Kel. I can't make it."

"Six-sigmas you can. If you don't show we'll come by your apartment for you."

"No blather, Kelven, I can't. I'm outzoning day after and I have a lot of prep to do."

"Heaven's flames, you're serious." McCrory considered this. "You're not up for a long time. What happened?"

"Reichsson advanced me. He said it might be a long tour."

"What's the assignment?"

"Halcyon Autonomous Region. Standard training run plus mission support."

"Mpf," grunted McCrory. "Standard as platinum from pizzle drips. Do you watch LNN? Halcyon's right in the middle of Corpse space and likely to go that way. They're closer to the Rift and the Rift Consortium than they are the League. The Navy's been posting cautions to HAR space for years and that's simple fact."

"Will you phase down, Kelven. If you cared to check Equality News Watch you'd know the Halcyon region is a lot closer to us in economy and in attitude. LNN's only torqued because Halcyon won't give them permanent exclusive."

McCrory shook his head, then grinned. "Well, at least I tried. Four words, Mo: you, me, Terri and Sylvie. Call it a going-away party. Tonight or tomorrow night. You can't spend all that time on a terminal."

"No."

"Morris..."

"I said no, Kel. I really do have a lot of prep work."

McCrory shook his head. "One of these years, Mo..." He sighed and checked his chrono. "You take care of yourself. I'll have Sylvie waiting when you come back."

***

Morris spent the afternoon and most of the evening studying. Teaching worried him. He never trained more than one at a time but the Guild had ample resources and curricula for nascent Techs and civilians alike. Morris flagged everything remotely touching what he might need, filtered it for Halcyon and League-external clearance and ordered it 'cubed. Then, sheepishly, he canceled that order and re-sent it for dataspools.

As evening fell and turned to night Morris studied Halcyon culture. Though League-like it was not the League. Halcyon literature, music, art and popular culture followed different paths. As he worked Morris thought of McCrory and his offer more than once. More than once he started to comm him but each time his priorities reasserted themselves and he returned to his work.

The next morning Morris felt distracted. Strange dreams haunted his sleep, unusual, and the seeds they left continued to bother him Very unusual. Finally, disgusted, he took an early lunch and gave his fancies free reign.

His last swallow of tea brought Morris realization. He wasted no time returning to the library where he keyed in several narrow and specialized queries. Success. He smiled as he read, certain now of his distraction.

The League predated the Halcyon government by almost two centuries but it took a long time for it to reach the Brytan sector. Although the Terran Imperium collapsed with the Interim well-advanced by the time Halcyon formed, all of the systems within it and around it had a strong Imperium influence. The Claudian Resolve, a moderately large collection of systems near both Halcyon and the Quinde sector, held its Imperial structure through the Interim. Its government still bore a loose resemblance to the Imperial Senate.

Fortunately for Morris and the League, the peoples of Halcyon rejected the heavy-handed measures so beloved by the Imperial legions. They kept their government closer to the ideals of the Imperium and not the realities of the monster it became: only large enough to accomplish its purpose with minimal intrusion into its citizens' lives.

As late afternoon approached Morris faced a quandary. He needed to do some shopping but he wanted to continue his research. With no good reason to put it off he closed down his connections, powered down his 'pad and rose. He checked his few valuables into secure storage and considered carefully where he needed to go.

If Morris' presence surprised the shop owner he hid it well. When Morris explained his needs the man led him to the back of the shop.

"Here you are, Tech. Certified for out-of-League travel, spool based and still hot to the slot. The terminal and datapad mesh and smesh seamlessly and securely, plenty of memory and extra standard adapter ports and datajacks. If you take the hologame unit I'll throw in a game library for half-price."

Morris casually popped open the terminal and examined it then repeated the process with the datapad. The game unit was underfibered for any kind of load but he could fix that.

"Thank you," said Morris. "I'll take all three. And the games."

Back at his apartment Morris cleaned all of his purchases, blew the memory and installed his favorite applications. Once he had the system images configured to his satisfaction he chipped them and copied them. He looked at the time and considered calling McCrory but decided instead to prepare for his trip.

Packing took not long at all. Likewise pre-paying his modest bills, preparing his apartment and notifying the owner. Morris had ample time for a relaxing cup of chog and a long shower before retiring for the evening.

# Chapter 2. A Trip Offplanet

Morris rose early the next morning, powered down his apartment and headed for the starport. He ignored the public entrance in favor of the one 'port Techs used, nodded to several he knew and made for the Naval complex. A quick check with the receptionist there gave him the proper berth and office, both of them on the far side of the complex.

"You are late, Technician."

Morris withdrew his half-outstretched hand and neutralized the scowl trying to form on his face. The man sitting at the neatly cluttered desk before him didn't look up.

"Your luggage and equipment arrived yesterday. Have you made your arrangements here?"

"Of course." Morris fought hard the urge to add sir. Military spiff and attitude oozed out of the other man.

"Good." Now the man did look up. "I am Keith Blakeschiff and I am in command of this mission. You will be more fully briefed as it becomes necessary. You will also need to draw a sidearm for this mission. See to that immediately."

Blakeschiff looked down with obvious dismissal. He spoke crisply and efficiently with no wasted motion or speech. Morris forbore a reply as he left the office.

"Good morning, sir."

The voice belonged to a young midshipman approaching Morris.

"Good morning, midshipman."

"You're our Tech? Slib. I'm Transient-Sparkle-of-Moonlight-From-The-Flower-Beside-A-Peaceful-Pond Kody," Kody offered his hand. "but most people call me Tran. That was your initial brief with the commander so we need to get you settled, truth?"

"Yes, if you please." Morris tried to maintain stiff formality but something about the young man made this impossible. "Blakeschiff said I'm to draw a weapon."

"Aye, sir. That was specified in our mission protocol." Kody picked up Morris' two carry-ons deftly and before Morris could. "I'll take care of these, sir, but first let's hit the armory."

"Your mission protocol," said Morris, not having read such a thing. "Is there anything you can tell me about that?"

Kody began walking. "Not past your briefing spools, sir. Well, it's MPN-1148.005 through 1148.42. I don't know if your spools mentioned that."

"They didn't," said Morris. He didn't know the specific Naval Mission Protocol Kody cited but he'd find out soon enough.

Kody slowed a bit. "About the commander, sir. He's rough on new midshipmen and civs but he's a frosted good officer. Rumor says he rode some rough orbits on the way to his bars. He is a stickler for procedure and protocol, though." Now he looked quickly about. "Rumor also says he did a tour in Protocol but I wouldn't mention that."

"I won't," agreed Morris. Even he knew Protocol was a dumping ground for idiots and incompetents and a punishment for anyone else.

Kody stopped at the armory, held the door for Morris and followed him inside. A beefy Marine took retinals from both and nodded curtly when they authenticated. The lady at the counter there was obviously surprised to see a Tech and even more so at his authorization.

"Do you have a preference, Technician Taylor?"

"Laser pistol," said Morris. "Navy caliber, not Marine."

The lady, also a Marine, laughed at this. She winked at him, walked through the door in the back wall and emerged a few minutes later with a box.

"This is a Photonix 5mm c/p fixed wavelength. I've included two clips but they're standard. It's an officer's sidearm. Will it work?"

"Certainly." Morris answered absently as he field-stripped the weapon and examined it closely.

"Then I'll need your sig and seal, sir."

Morris heard the surprise in her voice. When he reassembled the weapon and put it back in the box he saw both surprise and approval in her face. He took the datapad she proffered, filled in the appropriate spots, signed and gave his rets.

"Thank you, sir," said the lady. "If you don't mind my asking, I don't arm Techs often but when I do it's always a laser. Why is that?"

"A difference in degree." Morris pulled out his laser torch and handed it to her. "This is a laser cutter. It's functionally identical to a laser pistol but a lot more accurate and configurable. It has variable focus and wavelength, variable length pulse up to continuous and it's designed for precision work."

She examined the cutter a moment and handed it back. "Thank you, sir."

Outside the armory Kody chuckled softly.

"Yes, Master Kody?" asked Morris.

"I always enjoy rutting the jarhats, sir, especially when they can't hit back. It's a Navy thing."

"Oh."

"If you like I can take that and stow it for you. I doubt you'll need it."

"Thank you, Tran. Are you from Harmony Dark?"

Kody nodded. "Yes sir. Ebon's Light to be precise. My family has always served in the Navy or the Patrol. I chose Navy."

Morris nodded. "Before I was assigned to Dracos I trained a Tech named Lavender-Flower-That-Blooms-In-The-Desert-Sun Martin. She was the first in her family to attend the Academy, also from Ebon's Light and my first encounter with... erm..."

"Incredibly long first names," grinned Kody. "Don't worry, sir. Back home we still have trouble with everyone else's short ones."

Before Morris could respond Kody indicated a doorway.

"Through there, sir. That's a task area for the ship. The rest of the team's already there. You go on through and I'll stow your gear."

Morris had a brief thought otherwise but Kody had already started away from the portal.

***

When Morris palmed the pad beside the doorway it authenticated and opened into a suite of rooms branching off a single long hallway. Examining this roused Morris' curiosity. He instantly identified it as a secure portable staging unit. Both the Navy and Patrol used SUSPs when prepping operations requiring heightened security or when receiving sensitive passengers or cargo. The first two doors were hard-locked but the third stood open and Morris heard voices from inside.

The third doorway led to a comfortable conference lounge that, by military standards, bordered on luxurious. Six others occupied the room with two of them in Navy uniforms. As soon as Morris stepped inside a man noticed him, stood and started toward him.

As the man walked he grew. He was big: tall, broad-shouldered, heavily muscled and with a shock of sandy hair cropped short. He also wore an impudent grin.

"A Tech," said the big man. "Are you a part of our merry mission now or simply here to fix the brewbot?"

"Mission," said Morris cautiously.

"Wonderful. I'm Jared Jackson." Jackson grasped Morris' hand and gave it a vigorous shake.

"Morris Taylor."

"Welcome aboard, Morris Taylor," said Jackson, grin widening. "Peace and profit once again pose us a puzzle. What nuggets of knowledge do you bring to the party?"

Morris shifted uncomfortably, no small amount overwhelmed. One of the people Jackson left, a disturbingly beautiful lady, stood and approached.

"Be quiet, Jared," she said, with humor, "at least let the man take a breath."

Jackson bowed intricately, never losing the grin, and sat down.

"I'm Jena Lace," she said. "Jared you just met. That is Cullen Harkin..."

"Culle," interrupted Harkin.

"And you're Morris Taylor, our Tech," continued Lace. "I'll wager half a credit you were given very short notice and not told a lot about our mission. Did I miss anything?"

Morris shook his head, even more uncomfortable now. Lace was easily as beautiful as Terri Jenkins and Kelven was nowhere around. Oblivious to his discomfort Lace took his arm and led him to a seat with the other two.

Jackson, learned Morris, was a combat-qualified Healer with a Survey certification. Lace was a biochemist with an assistant-medic cert and degrees in archeology and geology. Harkin had incredible expertise in ecology, meteorology, climatology and planet science. The other civilian in the room, a lady with no apparent interest outside her two datapads and terminal, was Crystal Delroy, a data correlation specialist with obscene amounts of knowledge in fact theory, mathematics and computer technology.

The two Navy personnel were Mallory Harper, their pilot and Lydia Keyson, the ship's engineer. Keyson looked up once at Morris but ignored him otherwise. She and Harper sat in quiet but intense conversation.

***

Blakeschiff entered the room followed closely by Kody.

"We are within an hour of departure," said Blakeschiff. "The ground crew has cleared the ship and we will be leaving as soon as possible. Midshipman Kody will show you to your places." With that said he left the room followed by Harper and Keyson.

Morris approved of their ship as soon as he saw it: a Lanniver Industries Cuttle-class patrol boat. Ubiquitous throughout League space Cuttles were paragons of durability, ruggedness and dependability.

Once aboard Morris quickly located his room, checked his luggage and headed for a quick inspection of the cargo bay. There he found all of the equipment he ordered and more. Apparently Reichsson thought he needed a colony-grade portable shop along with a plethora of other items. For now Morris could do nothing past verifying their readiness for launch. He did so automatically, curiosity once again on the rise.

All of the others minus Harper and Blakeschiff already sat in the departure bay. Kody and Keyson worked to strap in the others. Morris took the seat farthest from Jackson which put him beside Delroy. She stared intently out of the viewport and ignored the others with obvious deliberate purpose.

"Now it's fun time."

Kody gave Morris' straps a cursory and unnecessary check. Delroy turned and scowled when he cinched her in.

"Sorry ma'am. Regulations."

Morris looked out the viewport past Delroy. He saw nothing but scorched tarmac and part of a reinforced wall. After a moment she turned to face him, looked slightly left and then right.

"Seen enough?" she asked sharply.

"I... yes," said Morris uncertainly. "Why?"

"Because your eyes are heavy and I don't like them on my back." After another moment of scowl Delroy turned her attention back to the 'port.

Blakeschiff lofted the ship with military procedure and precision, accelerating at two gravities. As soon as the push started Delroy grabbed her armrests and held them tightly. After a few minutes Morris knew Delroy's grip must be painful.

"Relax, Specialist," he said finally. "Statistically speaking we're safer now than we were in transit to the 'port."

"No blather," replied Delroy acidly. "Did you know that, statistically speaking, accidents that happen within the first twelve minutes of liftoff are eighty-three percent fatal?"

Morris considered a reply but decided to stay silent. Before long the engines' throb deepened and the atmospheric shake attenuated. As soon as they passed the low-orbit threshold Delroy's grip relaxed.

"Trajectory confirmed," came Blakeschiff's voice. "We are on course and on time. Prepare for vector shift."

In a stomach-twisting maneuver the acceleration fluctuated and then, after a moment of freefall it stopped entirely. Gravity shifted from pushing them backwards to downwards as the ship's internal compensators powered up. Delroy made a soft sound of discomfort but Morris pretended not to hear it. Then, with a final twitch and flicker of the lights, the internal gravitics stabilized.

"Right wonderful," said Jackson. "That squeezin's nice but not even close to my favorite."

After a few seconds under Jackson's expectant gaze Lace spoke.

"And what might that be?"

"Why, yours of course. Master Kody, might we be cleared to unstrap?"

"Absolutely, sir," said Kody. "We are secure to link threshold. Commander B is planning one microjump as soon as we clear minimum distance. If any of you are uncomfortable taking a link you are welcome to stay here. We have tranqs available."

Jackson unstrapped at Kody's first words. "Polarity, Tran." He looked at the others. "I'm thinking about a nice game of two-across until then."

Morris considered jacking into the ship 'net but at a sharp glance from Delroy rose instead to let her out. Jackson smiled with some expectation.

"I have an inspection to perform," said Morris. "If I'm not back I'll take it in the bay."

"Aye sir," replied Kody.

***

After a moment to verify his biometrics the doorway to the main hold popped open. It took Morris a while to find his equipment since the entire bay was loaded almost past capacity. Some of the shipping canisters showed signs of rough handling but nothing past what they could take. He'd verify later, for now everything seemed nominal. Halfway through his checks the microjump klaxon sounded. Morris grabbed an anchoring strap more from habit than need. The lights almost-flickered and a barely-felt shudder vibrated the ship.

Morris just finished his inspection when Keyson entered the hold, scanner in hand. Brow furrowed in concentration she headed to the forward access to the port hold.

"Chief Engineer," said Morris.

Keyson jumped, stopped and looked sharply at Morris. "Technician. Why are you here?"

"Inspecting my equipment. You?"

"The same. The port hold is classified. You need to leave now."

Morris nodded, reply quenched by her manner. The jump klaxon sounded again.

"All personnel to the departure bay," came Blakeschiff's voice. "Prepare for link protocol."

Morris mentally grumbled at Blakeschiff as he made his way to the lounge. The others had already strapped in so he managed to avoid both Jackson and Delroy, sitting instead next to Harkin.

"Time for the big show now, yes," grinned Harkin.

"I suppose," said Morris. "Not much show to it, though."

"That depends on your perspective."

Morris smiled at that and tried to place Harkin's accent. It had a strange clip to it Morris hadn't heard before. Thirty seconds before link Blakeschiff started an automated countdown. It announced at intervals of five seconds until ten and it switched to full count. Morris noted Harkin and Delroy both tensing. When the count completed the lights almost-flickered again and the vibration was slightly more pronounced but other than that no different from the microjump.

"All personnel," announced Blakeschiff, "link protocol is complete. You may stand down."

"Utter polarity," said Jackson with an audible grin. "We can stand down which means we can stand up. Does the Navy ever listen to its own protocols, Master Kody?"

"Don't make me lie, sir," answered Kody with a grin of his own. "That's not my MOS."

Jackson, Lace and Harkin chuckled at that, all the while unstrapping.

"Are we cleared to know our flight plan?" asked Jackson.

"Negative, sir," answered Kody. "I'd tell you but I don't even know. All I do know is that we're bound for the Halcyon Autonomous Region so that's where we'll be. Eventually."

"Pity," said Jackson. "Depending on the routing we might have a stopover in the Sandshadow Republic."

"Torque that," said Lace with a face-wrinkling scowl. "Why the hades would you want to go there?"

"Whyever would you not, m'dear? They love League credits and their tourist hospitality is nothing short of legendary. Everyone in my training cadre dreamed of a vacation there."

To that Lace shook her head. "I'll make you a deal. You don't go into any torrid details about that and I won't humiliate you at two-across."

"A challenge?" asked Jackson, grinning.

"Indeed."

"Ahem." Kody cleared his throat apologetically. "Sorry folks. The commander has other plans. With jump confirmed he released some more details about our mission. He wants you to read and assimilate soonest."

"That's not bad," said Harkin. "Maybe he'll give us the flight plan."

"For truth," said Jackson.

Morris elected to do his reading in his cabin and away from Jackson. The man irritated him and the thought of their extended time together depressed him.

Morris jacked into the ship 'net and found the material Blakeschiff cleared. After a few minutes he found it terse, dry, boring, abysmally written and entirely too long. After the third time it almost put him to sleep he stood, stretched and left his cabin. Delroy, Lace and Jackson still occupied the lounge, all in deep concentration on their datapads. He quietly drew a tube of chog and walked the opposite direction. His feet led him toward engineering so he followed them.

Keyson had the main portal open so Morris walked through it. This close to the main reactor and drives a soft, low hum permeated the air and the metal and he found it soothing.

"Technician."

"Good afternoon, Chief Engineer. The portal was open, I hope you don't mind."

Keyson shrugged. "Are you here to inspect?"

"For truth, Commander Blakeschiff's briefing left me restless." When her eyes tightened at that Morris hurriedly worked out something else to say. "But... certainly. It's been a while since I worked aboard a ship. As long as you don't mind."

Although she didn't exactly relax Keyson stepped aside and gestured toward the engines.

Doing his best to ignore her less-than-friendly stare Morris began the inspection protocol. He found absolutely nothing out of order and said so frequently. After the fourth such Keyson stepped behind a drive coil and began servicing it. Morris skipped that one and moved to the jump drive.

"You haven't serviced this yet," he said.

"I was going to do that after the drives," she replied somewhat coldly.

"Would you like me to do it," he offered, trying to sound friendly.

"If you wish."

Without replying Morris started the isolation protocol. Before he could open the unit Keyson appeared beside him and grabbed his arm.

"Hey. What the hades are you doing? Verification protocol mandates at least forty-five minutes between the start of inspection and breaching the unit."

"That's for the capacitors," said Morris absently. "I isolated the couplings and grounded it to the fusion core. That alleviates the need for the long damping period. Besides, we won't need the caps until we unlink."

Keyson opened her mouth to argue but Blakeschiff chose that moment to announce himself.

"Chief Engineer."

"Sir." Keyson snapped to attention and turned to face him.

"We need to discuss an irregularity in your log." He spared Morris a brief nod. "Technician."

While Blakeschiff and Keyson conferred in her office Morris finished the jump drive, restored the power couplings and started working on the secondary power systems. He found ample signs of previous maintenance, even for the dirty jobs, with all of them good. By what he saw Keyson was both thorough and competent, unlike some others.

Several years ago Morris worked with a Navy tech on basic ship power systems. The man had all the intelligence of a rock and less in the way of sense. At first Morris thought the problem was himself but a consultation with several other Techs disabused him of that notion.

"Nar, Mo," said Lon Bishop, a Tech of many years and more stories, all of them hilarious. "The Navy an' Patrol protocols are carefully written to keep ruddy bumblers from fryin' themselves an' their ships through sheer dumbness."

"He's right, hon," said Christine, a Senior Master Tech and Lon's wife. "Most of those scrubbies are good enough and they do try but some of 'em aren't. The protocols were written for the worst case amongst 'em all."

Morris let the memories of Chris, Lon and their stories carry him through finishing the secondary grid. He finished in good order and considered the next task when the door to the office popped open. Blakeschiff emerged followed by a visibly furious but carefully-controlled Keyson.

"Technician." This time Blakeschiff's voice sounded a few degrees warmer. "Is everything in order?"

"Yes sir. I commend Chief Engineer Keyson's work. It is quite exemplary."

"Good. Perhaps she will avail herself of the chance to learn from you during this mission."

Keyson stiffened at that but said nothing. Blakeschiff turned without ceremony and left. She turned to Morris.

"Well?" she asked.

"Is there something you'd like done?" Morris did his best to sound friendly and not anxious.

"The landing strut actuators need cleaning and maintenance."

"Done." Morris grinned hugely and started for the access hatch.

Happily buried in machinery he worked through lunch and well into the afternoon.

"Hey. You can stop now. You worked through lunch."

"I know," he said, not stopping.

"I'm serious. Stop. We have plenty of time before we land."

"I'm almost done."

"Feces." Keyson peered through the hatchway. "Move. I'm coming down."

Morris, dirty and covered with grease, crowded back as best he could.

"Heaven's flames. You were serious."

"It won't take long now," he offered. "I am almost done."

Keyson eyed him critically before lofting herself upward. Taking that as tacit approval Morris began working again.

"I suggest you clean up for dinner," said Keyson. "The Commander will be torqued if you don't."

"Of course. Shall I come back afterward?"

"No. I have reports to finish and a log entry to correct."

***

Dinner turned into a mild ordeal for Morris. Blakeschiff and Keyson sat together and talked in urgent whispers, obviously not desirous of other conversation. Harkin, Lace and Kody swapped stories while Jackson tried mightily to inveigle Delroy in conversation. Unfortunately Morris sat closest to the latter two. When Blakeschiff officially ended the meal by rising and leaving Delroy moved to a holocad terminal and pointedly ignored everyone else.

"Frosted," said Jackson, turning to Morris. "I do love a challenge, though. So tell me, Morris, how are you at Stratagem?"

"Not good," replied Morris. Keyson left in the direction of engineering and he thought to follow her only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Neither am I," said Lace, "but I bet between us we can beat this walrokk."

Jackson grinned at this and Morris found himself guided to the table by Lace's gentle grasp.

"Besides," she said with a wink, "you Techs always work too hard."

***

Morris frowned over his cards. Between them he and Lace had most of a red fleet with only a few different-colored dissidents. Apart from the two teams the Praetor Imperium, Kody, had a fleet almost as powerful as either but Morris doubted either Jackson or Harkin could call on him otherwise they'd have done so already. In his hand Morris held two cards that would aid them slightly, two more that would neither help nor harm and a fifth that would spell certain disaster. He hadn't exactly lied. When he learned the game during idle hours at the Academy he wasn't good but his partners and opponents were experts.

Lace smiled at Jackson's surprise when he and Harkin didn't immediately roll over her and Morris. Still, they fought gamely from near defeat to an equal footing. By their postures he and Harkin wanted a showdown.

"That's it," said Lace as she played an ambush card. "Morris, send your secondary fleet against the Praetor and give me your capital ship support. Let's do this." She sat back with a smile.

Morris sighed and set aside four of his cards. Lace's expression fell when he played the Praetor's Fist. Kody gained the ships sent against him along with half of Morris' others and most of his guarded resources. Weakened, Lace's fleet failed against Harkin and Jackson and they moved swiftly to consolidate their victory.

"Well played," exclaimed Jackson. "For truth pure and simple. You will excuse me, though, as I intend to be totally insufferable now." He blew imaginary dust off his fingernails and buffed them on his shirt in a move he'd repeat often over the next few days.

"Until the rematch," grinned Lace.

Morris smiled and nodded. He hadn't enjoyed Stratagem this much since his days at the Academy even though Jackson still grated his nerves. Morris excused himself for the evening, showered, read a bit and went to bed.

***

Morris' alarm woke him early the next morning. A quick check showed no assignments. He wanted to review his curriculum but Blakeschiff still hadn't released enough information. Past the basics Morris had no idea what the man wanted him to teach. The lounge held one other person. Crystal Delroy sat at her holocad with the remains of a small meal beside her, smoking a drugstick and studying some three-dimensionally complex fractal diagram. She looked up momentarily when Morris walked in then buried herself in the diagram just as quickly. Morris grabbed a quick breakfast and headed for engineering.

"What?" asked Keyson sharply when Morris entered and announced himself.

Although most of the space hadn't changed Morris saw signs of work on both drive arrays. Keyson looked disheveled, almost dirty and quite sharp-tempered.

"What do you want me to do today?" he asked, nervous from Keyson's manner.

Keyson closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. "I thought you finished your inspection yesterday."

"I did. I also serviced and cleaned the strut actuators." He looked past her to the drive arrays. "Is something wrong with the drive? It looked fine when I checked it."

Keyson tensed at this. "The drive is, in my professional and personal opinion, functioning at near optimal. Perhaps you'd like to verify that?"

More nervous than calm now Morris moved to do so. He ran the standard Navy checks then verified them with the more comprehensive Guild protocols. He noted a slight variance between the port and starboard arrays but it fell well within the safety tolerances. For truth it barely registered past the calibration error for his instruments.

"They're function perfectly," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Oh," she spat, voice heavy with sarcasm, "why don't you tell me?" She then strode forward until her face was bare inches from his. "Tell me, Technician, what is wrong with my engines?"

Keyson's fury along with her proximity froze any reply in Morris' throat.

"The engine arrays are functioning well within Navy tolerances, Sir, but per regulations I logged the variances. The small variances as you no doubt noticed. That, in case you don't know, is why the Commander came down to rip me open. I happen to think my engines are running perfectly well, Sir, but I am not a Guild Technician. I'm just a simple Navy engineer and I've only spent the last eight years of my life working with them, Sir."

Morris flinched at the anger in her voice. Kelven would know how to handle this. He certainly didn't.

"In fact, Sir," continued Keyson, "what I would like for you to do is to go running off to Commander Blakeschiff and tell him my engines are bloody damned well fine."

Keyson turned and stormed to her office. Although Morris didn't quite run back to his cabin he certainly wasted no time on the journey.

Morris sat on his bunk and tried mightily to calm himself. Although Keyson was initially cool and distant he assumed she'd be past it since they would, presumably, be working closely together. He reviewed his every action since meeting her, trying to determine what he did wrong and how to correct it. Try as he might, though, he could think of nothing. He just managed to settle his frazzled nerves when the comm beeped.

"Morris." The voice belonged to Jackson.

"Yes?"

"I have equipment trouble and Lydia's up to her elbows in engine. I'm in the cargo bay."

"On my way."

***

Morris found Jackson half-buried in an analytic bioreactor.

"Ruddy thing broke during takeoff," said Jackson. "Whatever it is isn't simple. I can't find it."

Morris hooked a probe into the machine's port. While the basic diagnostic ran he called up the maintenance and repair manuals and gave them a quick skim.

"It is simple," said Morris. "You have a progressive attenuative fracture in your spinal data fiber. Fixing it shouldn't take too long."

Jackson moved back to let Morris work. This time he did use his precision guide. After a few minutes to configure he carefully removed the damaged fiber and replaced it. Several other modules tested marginal so he adjusted them too.

"That easy," grinned Jackson when Morris finished. "Polar. Let's see if she works, yes?"

Morris bristled at this but hid it.

"Better than new, of course," said Jackson. "So tell me, Morris. Who d'you think is hotter: Jena Lace, Mallory Harper or Crystal Delroy?"

"I surely would not know. I haven't taken their temperature."

Jackson snorted a quick laugh at this. Then he chuckled. "That's cryonic. Taken their temperature. Got a thermoscope handy?"

The bioreactor beeped and drew Jackson's attention. Morris took the opportunity to leave. Jackson muttered humorously about temperature and the instruments to measure it.

***

Back in his room again Morris tried to study. Jackson's incident alerted him that he needed to know what equipment the rest of the team had and how to service it. He had no trouble finding a partial list of items, enough to start, but he simply couldn't stay focused on the manuals.

Finally driven to distraction he took out the equipment he purchased and soon had it in pieces. He re-cleaned it, thoroughly, ripped out the marginal or weak fiber conduits and replaced them with thicker and more durable ones. With his hands occupied he let his mind wander and settle. Of course it settled on his encounter with Keyson. He reviewed and re-reviewed everything he'd said and done, all the while analyzing to the extent of his ability.

Morris vaguely heard his door beep. He answered it absently, mind still deep within its concerns. After he finished re-seating a particularly delicate circuit strip he felt another presence in the room with him.

"You make that look so easy." Jena Lace sat on his bunk, comfortable and smiling at him.

"It... it is," he said, thinking hard about the circuits. "Form follows function and there is by definition one maximal optimum for any process..."

Lace placed her hand on his arm. "I believe you. No statement of proof is necessary. I hope you don't mind me watching you."

"N-no. Not at all."

Morris turned his attention back to the parts before him, picked up his penlaser and started back to work. He felt her lean in and put her arm on the back of his chair but he maintained concentration.

"For truth," said Lace softly when he paused. "I came to bring you to lunch. You skipped it yesterday and we can't have you wasting away."

Morris felt her lean even closer, felt her warmth, smelled her perfume. He concentrated as hard as he could on the control strip before him.

"Of course if we stay here much longer the others may think we decided to do something else."

Focus. Concentrate. A cold, solid bundle of nerves froze Morris' stomach and started moving out from it.

"Y'know, if I don't leave soon they might just be right."

The knot inside Morris shattered, he jumped and the small laser slipped. Before the beam died it took a nick out of his finger.

"Oh Morris." Concern flooded Lace's voice. "Morris, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... Flames. Let me look at that."

While Morris tried hard to speak Lace grabbed his hand and examined the small wound. He still hadn't managed to speak when she stepped into his fresher and brought out the small aid kit there.

"I'm so sorry, hon," she said. "I didn't know you were wound that tight."

Despite his feeble protests Lace cleaned and sealed the small wound. When she looked up her eyes were filled with warmth, sincerity and sympathy.

"I hope that didn't hurt too much," she said genuinely.

"I'm... It's fine. I've had... worse than that."

"So am I forgiven?"

Morris managed a nod.

"Polar." She stood, took Morris' uninjured hand and tucked it under her arm. "Let's go eat."

Lace kept Morris' arm intertwined with hers all the way to the lounge. Fortunately she stayed silent. He knew he'd make no sense at all if he tried to speak. The pit of his stomach unfroze and hollowed when she didn't release his arm as they entered.

The others minus Blakeschiff, Keyson and Harper sat around the main table with their meals. Lace drew plates and chog for both of them and Morris felt his face flush as Jackson noted this and grinned.

As Morris feared the meal turned into an ordeal. While Morris managed to avoid conversation Jackson joined it gleefully. He interspersed what he said with multiple references to temperature and the acquisition thereof. Morris' face heated with each one and Jackson barely left him time to recover before making another one. Lace intuited something wrong, traced it to Jackson and told the big man to stop it. That only embarrassed Morris more.

After lunch Lace dashed Morris' hopes for a quick escape. The conversation turned to politics and government, which Morris avoided avidly, and as soon as he cleared his and Lace's dishes she snagged his arm and pulled him toward a seat.

"... but that's what I'm saying," said Jackson, unconcerned that his assertions had no logic. "The Imperium was no more despotic than the League and Guilds. No offense." He gave a brief nod and smile toward Kody and Morris.

"You are totally wrong," argued Lace. "The Imperium demanded and took total control over every aspect of its citizens' lives. It maintained total control over all trade even between continents on its planets. It also restricted travel almost to the point of nonexistence. It was a monster that choked off most of its own productivity with totalitarian control and excessive regulation. Humanity cannot stand oppression and the Imperium was the most oppressive society in human history."

"Conceded," smiled Jackson, "but look at the life of the average Imperial citizen.

"The Imperium maintained a titanium rule, no blather there, but its citizens enjoyed a lifestyle better than some League citizens do today. It might have controlled its citizenry but it also cared for them. Look at Caustik."

Lace frowned at that. A long-term League member, Caustik caused quite a scandal last year when ENW broke the story of its military and how it treated its citizens.

"Under the auspices of our own League senate," continued Jackson. "Caustik routinely oppresses and brutalizes its population. Even some of its highcarders don't live as well as the average person on Dracos yet by its own Charter and Articles the League will do nothing about it."

"Phase down, Jared," said Harkin, who rarely spoke. "The League is doing something there. Any citizens who aren't happy where they are are given free access to leave the planet."

"An empty offer," countered Jackson. "Despite the Guilds' education initiatives most of the folks there remain woefully ignorant of what they could have elsewhere. I don't know of any systems that contraband Caustik exports so they have no motivation to change. It benefits the local government that its populace is ignorant so ignorant it will remain. Even at its worst the Imperium took care of its people. That care might have been impersonal but it was universal."

"One example," said Lace. "One example of one oppressive League system. What about Adrastea? The only government there is the Patrol at the starport and a handful of Guild Arbiters for the entire planet. Crime there is almost nonexistent and even the poorest citizens live ruddy well."

"So the world is controlled by corporate interests and the Merchant's Guild," said Jackson cheerfully. "I wondered when you'd mention it."

Morris endured the conversation stoically. Every time he thought to leave Lace sensed his fidgets, reached out and held him there. At least, he thought, Jackson was too occupied to jibe him. He and Lace sat on a couch easily large enough for four yet she had him pinned against the armrest. While not unpleasant that did nothing for his nerves.

"There is one thing you cannot deny," said Morris, his mouth working on its own. The others looked at him.

"The Imperium collapsed," he said. "Had it been a viable and acceptable government it would have endured and would still be in place today. By constraining its population it sowed the seeds of its own demise. The League places the absolute minimum of rules and restrictions and most of those are in place to prevent trade exploitation. The League is here and the Imperium is not."

"But Caustik may revolt and secede from the League," said Jackson.

"And?" asked Morris, glad to get in a good sting. "Worlds may come and go but the League remains. It won't collapse because it's too strong and its citizens know what would happen if it weakens."

Silence.

"Good point," said Lace finally. Harkin and Kody added their assent and Jackson, sensing defeat, conceded with a grin.

"But I shall have a rebuttal," promised Jackson.

With every intent of finishing his equipment Morris nonetheless found himself and Lace in a game of two-across with Harkin and Kody. Jackson wandered aft with a humorous comment about research.

After four games, the last of which Morris played abysmally, Kody pled duty and departed. Lace squeezed Morris' hand.

"I know you have something on your mind, hon," she smiled gently. "Go fix your machines."

# Chapter 3. Problems Solved

Morris' hands were sure and steady and before long his mind wandered. He set aside the problem of Keyson and concentrated on his interactions with Lace and the others. After a fashion he enjoyed the meal and subsequent discussion. He even found himself warming slightly to Jackson.

Some time later Morris' door beeped. He mumbled a come-in but nothing happened. A few minutes later it beeped again. Puzzled, he extricated himself from his almost-assembled gear. If someone had equipment trouble they'd have commed and Lace would simply have entered.

Lydia Keyson stood outside when Morris opened the door.

"Hi," she said. "May I come in?"

He stood aside.

"Thanks." She took a deep breath and looked down, seeming uncertain as to her words. "Technician, I want to apologize."

What? Morris hoped his amazement didn't show.

"What I did this morning was out of line and unprofessional. I have no excuse for why it happened and I'm sorry." Now she did look up and Morris saw considerable relief in her expression.

Morris nodded slightly, the only movement he could prod his body to make. Keyson's expression tightened and she made to leave.

"Wait." To Morris it seemed another person spoke with his voice. "What... what made you so angry?"

If Morris' question surprised her it stunned him.

"It... I reported a minor variance within the engines. Well within tolerances, dammit, and not worth any problems to any other commander in the Navy. Not the Steel Ba... ahem. Not Commander Blakeschiff, though. He told me that any such variance was unacceptable and that I should fix it. What's more, he said, if I couldn't handle it then I should avail myself of the certified Tech who so fortunately happened to be aboard."

"Oh," said Morris. It really wasn't his fault.

"Yeah. So I really am sorry I blew all over you. For truth, if you're still willing I'd love to have your help."

"Certainly." Not his fault at all.

"Polar," she smiled. "Then I'll see you in that unholy thing called morning?"

"Deal." Morris stuck out his hand. She shook it with a quick giggle, turned and left.

Not much later Lace came to fetch Morris for dinner.

"You seem at peace with the galaxy," she smiled.

"I am."

"Good. You worked out whatever was bothering you?"

"Yes."

"Polar. Then there's no excuse for not scorching Jared at Stratagem, truth?"

Morris nodded.

Lace kept the conversation at dinner light and neutral. Afterward she and Morris did manage to hand Jackson, Harkin and Praetor Kody a sizzling defeat. Lace lifted a single eyebrow as she buffed her nails on her shirt.

***

"Good morning, Tech." Keyson flashed a smile. "I have hot chog if you want some."

"No thanks," said Morris. "What would you like me to do?"

"Well, with the extra service on the engines I didn't have a chance to post-jump the L-drive. You mind? It would go a lot faster with two."

"Done."

Keyson finished her chog quickly as Morris tore into the linkdrive. Since the vessel was actually in link he worked carefully but with the phase sync low they didn't have a lot of worry there. Theoretically Cuttle-class ships could perform active-link jumps but he absolutely did not want to test that. Rapid Flight Protocol was bad enough on large ships. He worked in silence but after a while Keyson spoke.

"I took the Guild Placement," she said. "Out of two thousand points I missed the cutoff by ten."

"Outstanding," said Morris, remembering his own placement. "How did you do on the follow-up?"

When she didn't answer immediately he looked at her.

"I didn't take it."

Morris said nothing and finally she continued.

"I was working a dead-end job when I took the placement. I just knew I'd score top-five and I'd be the best Tech Prometheus had ever seen. A lot of my coworkers called me Tech Lydia. They didn't mean it as a complement, either. It hurt before I took the test but it really hurt afterward."

"But that close, Chief Engineer, you're justified in requesting a reassessment."

Keyson stayed silent a moment.

"You don't understand," she said. "I tried my best and failed."

"Ten points is hardly a failure."

Keyson sighed with some exasperation. "It was enough to keep me out of the Academy. It six-sigmas wasn't enough to get me a scholarship. Prometheus is a poor world in a rich sector. I didn't have the money and I didn't have a lot of options. Two weeks after I found out my score the Navy recruiter contacted me. They didn't have any problem offering me training and I ended up second in my class."

"You can still retake the assessment. Judging by what I've seen..."

"Burnit," interrupted Keyson, "there's more to life than a Guild Cert." She took a calming breath. "Whenever I think about it... All I can see is my failure."

"I think you're an outstanding technician." Morris tried hard to speak these words but they refused to leave his throat.

After a moment Keyson resumed her work. Morris worked his brain desperately for some right words to say but found none. Finally Keyson spoke again.

"You really love your work, don't you?"

"Yes."

"That's it, you see." She seemed uncertain whether to continue. "I don't. I mean I do enjoy my job and I like it when things are working to perfection but I don't have a driving, all-consuming passion for it."

"That is..." Morris scrambled for the appropriate word. "unique."

She chuckled. "And you're a diplomat."

"Thank you, Chief Engineer."

"That's Lydia. I won't bite you for using my name. It's also kind of silly when I'm the only engineer."

"Lydia, then." Morris managed a smile.

Satisfied, Keyson turned back to work followed by Morris. Before long they had the unit done. He looked around for something else to do but Keyson had other ideas.

"Office," she said. "I need to service the drive grids but we can do that later. If you still don't mind helping."

"Certainly," he said, "or certainly not. What about right now, though?"

She indicated a small couch. "How about 'take a break?' You may run on hydrogen fusion but I'm a mere human. I have a report to log but it won't take long. Make yourself comfortable."

Keyson powered up her terminal and Morris found a Navy tech journal with several articles he hadn't read. His reverie snapped when Keyson plopped down beside him. She leaned back in a luxurious stretch, rolled her shoulders and popped the neck seal on her coverall. Morris felt his eyes widen and turned away quickly.

"Hey, Morris. What bit you? What's wrong?"

She touched his shoulder lightly and apparently detected the small flinch he tried to hide. Out of the corner of his eye Morris saw her reviewing what she'd said. Then she reached out and took his hand.

"You are shaking like a leaf," she said gently. "Why?"

"I... I..." Morris tried to speak but the words refused to come out.

"Ho-ly hades," she said softly. "I think I just realized something."

She released his hand, stood and moved her desk chair to sit facing him. Then she took his hand again and forced his gaze upward.

"You are just shy," she said, amazed. "Am I right?"

Morris felt his face flush and he looked down.

"Heaven's flames."

Morris' embarrassment reached painful proportions. She took his hand in both of hers now.

"Oh Morris... just take a breath and look at me. Take your time."

When he finally managed to lift his gaze Morris saw her expression soft and incredibly gentle.

"Here's a nice laugh for communication," she said. "Up until now I thought you were going to kick me out of engineering."

"What?" That shocked Morris into speech. Keyson simply smiled in return.

"Six-sigmas," she said, "plus-plus. We have bios on the civilian team. I paid special attention to yours, for truth. I couldn't believe your record so I checked it. Top percentile on the placement, top marks at the Academy, a monotonous series of evaluations of Excellent or better, no reprimands, no verified grievances, at least two miracles to your name and one of the youngest Techs on record to attain Senior Master."

"But... What..."

"Definitely not an ordinary Tech," she said. "This person was obviously an Apostle to the Guild of Technology sent to call the heretic into account. Why else would your blackwater duty be advanced?"

"I... I don't mind outzoning," said Morris weakly.

"Then the platinum on the pile," she continued. "I finally meet this Titanium Tech. Cold, aloof, distant and totally unconcerned with anything that doesn't have an access panel. No thought on his mind except how I am abusing his precious technology."

Morris eyes widened and Keyson squeezed his hand.

"And now the truth comes out. Instead of super-Tech ready to toss me out of my own engine room I find a guy who could probably really use a friend. Yes?"

Morris managed a small nod.

"That's why you came to engineering."

He nodded again.

"Morris... I want you to know I'm really, really sorry I yelled at you. Yes?"

This time when Morris nodded Keyson ran her fingers gently across the back of his hand.

"Guess what," she said after a time, breaking the quietness. "We're sitting here holding hands and you're not shaking any more."

Amazingly she spoke truly. To his surprise Morris found himself quite relaxed.

"Now we work on keeping you this way," she smiled.

Morris didn't know how long they sat there when the comm beeped.

"Fifteen minutes to link waypoint," came Blakeschiff's voice.

"Aye sir. Technician Taylor and I are in engineering."

"Acknowledge."

As she rose Keyson held out her hand. When Morris took it and stood she ended up standing bare inches from him. Very close. Too close. She looked deep into his eyes and he felt her smile.

"Better," she said, moving back. "It's called acclimation. It is, I think, the least I can do, yes?"

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Welcome."

Morris sat at the auxiliary console and watched the waypoint approach. Why Blakeschiff made an ordeal of it Morris knew not. With their phase sync low the automatics could handle it easily. In simple fact any interference here or on the bridge would do more harm than good. For truth the ship cruised several deviations below the lowest limit requiring active monitoring.

"One thing you'll learn about the Commander," said Keyson, showing signs of telepathy. "He puts a lot of stock in regs and protocols."

"I heard a rumor that he spent some time in Protocol," said Morris.

Keyson half-started at this.

"I will not confirm or deny," she said cautiously, "but I will advise you not to mention it to him. I'm not saying he did but if he did it would certainly be a sore spot with him."

"I understand."

The console beeped as the ship reached the waypoint. The vessel vibrated, the drive throbbed and the lights dimmed momentarily.

"Of all the advantages the Cuttle-class has," said Keyson, "smooth waypoint transition is not one."

"Howso," said Morris, examining the console. "The coils and grid didn't even twitch."

Keyson looked mysterious as she checked her chrono.

"Let's have lunch. It's past time and I'm a little hungry."

***

Morris and Lydia found the others in the lounge, most with the remains of meals. Jackson and Delroy hadn't eaten much and the rest showed signs of discomfort.

"That," said Jackson, uncharacteristically subdued, "is why I'm rated Survey but don't do it often."

Morris looked quizzically at them.

"Jumpsickness," said Lace. "Be glad it doesn't affect you." She shifted position, grimaced and moved more slowly.

"I always heard it was psychological," said Harkin. "Blather."

"It can be worse on smaller ships," said Keyson soothingly. "That's why we don't build them much smaller than this. Active-link is worse."

"Gaah," said Jackson. "RFP. I don't even want to think about that."

While Keyson and Jackson spoke Morris drew rations for himself and Keyson. As Morris began eating his he felt a heavy gaze. When he looked up he traced it to Lace. Under it he slowed then finally pushed his plate aside. Jackson half-chuckled and pushed it back and Lace widened her glare to include them both.

A sharp, derisive chuckle finally broke the silence.

"Brilliant, Jena," said Delroy. "Next time scratch too."

Lace flushed a deep red and turned her back to the table.

"Best finish it, Moe," said Jackson. "Thermal investigation requires plenty of calories."

***

Morris worked quickly and efficiently to dissemble and service the thrust transducer and regulator. When the two of them arrived at engineering Keyson left him to update her logs, which took all of three minutes. When she finished she checked Morris' work then started working opposite him.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked casually.

"About?"

"Whatever is bothering you. Lunch."

He looked up, surprised, then back down again.

"You were cheerful and a little open before we left. Now you're back to Seigneur Super-Tech. QED."

Morris tried to think of how to speak his thoughts but she beat him to it.

"Ahh... Jena Lace. Thermal drooly and open to... people." Lydia measured his quickly-covered but still-visible reaction as if calibrating a gauge. "Listen. I happen to know that rough links give her the cramps really bad. She wanted to make small talk but smelling your food almost made her sick."

She examined him again.

"Jared was trying to smooth things over. I know he irritates you but underneath the rough he's a decent enough guy. As to Delroy, I think she stays permanently torqued and extra nausea just made it worse."

Morris stopped working to look at her. "How... Why do you think..."

After his speech trailed off she spoke. "Because you, my dear Tech, are not nearly as inscrutable as you try to be."

Morris wilted at this.

"Oh... blather. You're not that obvious, either. I was observing carefully."

She went back to work and after a moment he did as well.

"So what should I do," he finally asked.

"What? A question?" Keyson smiled. "Just relax and enjoy yourself. I know," here she tugged on a stuck connector, "it's not easy for you but it's what you have to do. Ummf." The connector popped off and sprayed them both with hydraulic gel. "Burnit." She wiped her face and hands and handed the cloth to Morris. "When someone says something non-technical you stop, consider it, take it apart, analyze it, carefully formulate your response and deliver it. Don't. Just take it as said and go with it."

Morris considered this, digested it and went back to work.

"So," said Keyson, "would you like to wipe that hydrogel off my soft, naked body?"

The drive cowling in Morris' hands clanged when it hit the floor, bounced past Keyson and rolled to a stop against the primary transducer. He felt the blood leave his face then return excessively. Keyson looked at him innocently and repeated the question.

"Uhh... um..."

"Correct response, " she said, "'I'll bring the towels.' Now you say it."

Morris finally managed to mumble approximately what she said.

"Good. We'll work on that." She picked up the cowling and handed it back. "You didn't really think I was serious, now, did you?" She batted her eyes and smiled sweetly. "Oh my. I do believe I am totally flattered but I prefer wine and cheese before the... main course."

"T-t-too b-bad."

This elicited a laugh.

"Good." She winked. "We'll work on that, too."

They worked until time to clean up for dinner. Keyson peppered Morris with half a dozen more verbal jabs, two of them unbelievably lewd, until he at last managed not to flinch when she did.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked before they left.

She didn't answer for a long time. "I... someone needs to, Morris. Call it a tangible apology for me yelling at you."

Not the reason, thought Morris, but he kept his silence.

***

As Morris suspected Lace showed up to escort him to dinner. By concentrating hard on what Keyson said he managed to relax and not jump when she took his arm. During the meal he concentrated not only on the conversation but the participants. When he noticed Keyson observing him she winked and grinned.

After dinner the conversation turned to musical themes from the Imperium. It seemed all of the civilians plus Kody had considerable interest in the Imperium backed by varying levels of expertise.

"But regardless of whether expression reflected society or created and shaped it," expounded Lace, "the correlation is undeniable."

"Sophistication," countered Harkin, "does not imply evolution. It can be the opposite. Back me on this Morris. Function dictates form but when the methodology for accomplishing the function improves, the form necessarily changes."

"To a degree," said Morris. Interested in this subject he managed to ignore Lace pressed against him on one side and Keyson on the other. "Mental inertia as a factor cannot be discounted. I tend to agree with Sig... Jena on her point, though. The Imperium grew decadent. It started inevitably and grew exponentially until the Collapse. Its decadence even extended into the Interim. That's a recorded fact and it's also evident in their musical and artistic themes.

"Technologically the Imperium was very advanced. Enough so to provide for its citizens, certainly, but a disproportionate amount of resources concentrated in the elite classes. The Praetors, Senators and Legates had basically unlimited access to whatever they wanted. The vast majority only had their doles and entitlements."

"But the Imperium did provide those doles," said Keyson. "Uniformly and universally. That kept the lower classes fed, entertained and healthy. That left even them with time to explore the arts. Those themes, which really are decadent, are ubiquitous throughout the period."

"Exactly," exclaimed Lace. "The last few centuries before the Interim it seemed the artists and artisans went out of their way to embellish even the most trivial things. Even machinery that would never be seen once activated. It was like they were trying to outdo each other with needless extravagance."

Noting the opinion mostly against him, Harkin conceded with a grin. "Slib, then. I suppose I can agree with you. With some reservations."

"Wise move, spiker," said Jackson. "I was ready to jump in."

Harkin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I have an Imperium relic," said Lace.

Harkin and Jackson stopped talking and looked at her.

"No blather," she said.

Lace rose, left and returned a few minutes later with a box. She opened it, extracted a bundle of padding and carefully began unwrapping. When she finished she held a smaller highly-polished metal box. Morris leaned in and looked close. He couldn't identify the exact alloy but had no trouble with the workmanship and the patterns etched into the surface.

Besides the etched detail every edge of the small box sported an intricate knotwork of wires carefully woven and joined to the box itself. The top edges held six embedded gemstones, each of them clouded and tinted delicately with another color.

"This is also a fine example of decadence," said Lace smugly.

When she opened the lid it revealed two thick sides supporting the crystals. Morris thought he saw a momentary sparkle.

"You see," she said, indicating the more-complex patterns on the inside. "This would normally be covered in natural silk or something even more expensive. You couldn't even see the craftsmanship."

"Holocrystals," exclaimed Morris, startling Lace and Harkin. "I thought that looked familiar. These are the predecessors of datacubes. They didn't quite have the tech to layer them up to 3.15-D but they did a lot with 3.035 and 3.07."

"He means fractal data content," said Keyson.

When Morris looked up he saw various expressions of puzzlement with the exception of Keyson and Delroy. He looked back down at the box.

"You really should get this restored," he said absently, flipping on his holospecs and looking even closer.

"I really wish I could," said Lace, retrieving the box. "That was a gift. I have an uncle who collects them."

"You can," said Morris. "It wouldn't even be hard to find a Tech who'd do a good job."

Silence still. Uncomfortable now, Morris reviewed what he said. Once again a brittle, acid chuckle sounded from Delroy's holocad.

"One of you tell him," she said. "He obviously doesn't have a clue."

Lace reached out and patted Morris' hand. "I'm not rich, hon, and Tech service isn't cheap. If I could afford the Guild it would be for something more important than this."

"Oh," said Morris. "I'm sorry."

"Flames. Don't be." Lace quarter-scowled at him. "I was just stating a fact, hon. It's not you."

That did nothing to relieve Morris' discomfort. Then... inspiration. He smiled at Lace.

"I'll do it. As soon as we leave Spigot. If you want me to."

Lace considered it then shook her head.

"I can't ask you to do that, Morris," she said. "No. It's just a jewelry box and I don't want you wasting your time on it."

"But I have time. In fact," he looked at the others, "if any of you have things I'll restore them too."

"That's nice of you, Moe," said Jackson. "Truth pure and simple."

Jackson's grin left Morris no doubt the big man meant it. Amazingly, everyone but Delroy had an Imperium item. Most of them just needed cleaning which Morris did carefully and lovingly. He removed every speck of dust, grit and tarnish, polished carefully and finished with a coat of clear, inert sealant.

"Wow," said Keyson, admiring a Senator's bracer now shiny bright. "I was always afraid to do this myself."

Morris carefully packed and returned the two items he hadn't touched: Lace's box and a small figure belonging to Jackson, who thought it only a statue.

"Oh no," said Morris, pointing to several delicate seams. "See the articulation here? It actually moves, probably in response to sound or light. I could just clean the surface now but after Spigot I'll be able to do the internals too."

"Whyfor?" asked Jackson. "After the detailing you did inside the bioreactor this can't be that complicated."

"It's not," said Morris, "but Imperium tech doesn't conform to League standards. I'll need some specialized tools."

When the group broke up for the evening Lace walked Morris all the way to his cabin.

"That was a very generous offer, Morris," she said. "I just wanted you to know that."

"It's my pleasure," he said.

"Well thank you, then," she said. Then she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

Only by virtue of looking at the setting did Morris know he set his shower much hotter than normal. He didn't feel a second of it.

***

"Hi." Keyson smiled extra brightly when Morris appeared at engineering the next morning.

"You did very well last night," she said, sipping her chog.

Morris shrugged. "It really isn't that hard to clean and restore artifacts. Only the most durable ones survived."

Keyson moved in, reached out, stroked his hair back then grabbed it and gave it a sharp tug.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Morris managed to relax. That he could surprised him.

"You joined the conversation without being dragged in, you handled Jared and you still managed to talk with two drooly vixes cuddled up against you."

That did it. Morris blushed and dropped his gaze.

"I also noticed you didn't leave alone."

Morris felt his face heat as his blush deepened. Keyson slid her hand down his arm and gripped it.

"Interesting. Tell me about it." She led him toward the engine array.

With his hands full of sublight inducer he managed to stammer through the walk to his room.

"That's fantastic," she said. Without warning she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then, almost casually, she kissed the other one. "That's three you've survived now. Just remember, if you start shaking with your hands inside the engines they won't work when you finish."

Sensitive to Morris' state Keyson kept her conversation light and professional for the rest of the morning. Midmorning she called a quick break.

"You're really getting better," she said, relaxing on the couch with chog. She lay back and propped her feet on the arm, across Morris.

"Hey. I'm not a footstool."

"No, but you make a good pillow."

"So fluff me."

She barked a short laugh at that. "Good one."

"So what do we do next?"

"Something in bed comes to mind..." She smiled and winked. "For truth, we've serviced just about everything that needs it. The thrusters will be down until we unlink and we're not touching the active L-drive components before then. Unless the Commander or passengers have something I'm on plus time."

"Oh." With no excuse to stay in engineering Morris felt a touch of disappointment.

"We could start on your stuff but I'm not certified for it."

Morris thought a moment. "It's not that different from drives. If you want I can certify you."

"Ooohh," drawled Keyson. "I think someone just wants me close by."

"No blather there," managed Morris. "C-cope with it."

She chuckled at this. "Fair enough, sirra. I don't suppose a small equipment cert would hurt my career."

***

Morris found Keyson an apt pupil. She rarely needed to be shown something more than once and for all the lack of theory she claimed she learned that quickly as well. Morris knew she'd have no trouble certifying.

For himself Morris found he could relax around her, even when the two of them worked very close on something. At odd times she moved in and put her arm around him or touched his arm or shoulder. At first it made him nervous but he soon overcame that and even enjoyed it. They finished a particularly tricky bit of work before dinner and ended up in Keyson's office.

"Flames," she said. "Working on that rover tied me in a knot."

"Must be a lover's knot."

"I'm serious, Morris. I want a backrub for that."

She wriggled out of the top part of her coverall. She wore a shirt under it, of course, but that did nothing for Morris' sudden nerves.

"Get used to it," she said over her shoulder, "'Cause if you're as good with muscles as you are machines I intend to make a habit of this."

"M-my hands... dirty," he stammered.

"I'm washable. Just start at the neck. Feel the tension and work it out."

His hands shook as he touched her. She tilted her head and he felt some tension beneath his fingers. He applied a gentle pressure then increased it and began moving his fingers back and forth. Then, when she made no objection he put his other hand on the other side and did the same. She made occasional pleasure-sounds and affirmed that he did a fine job. When she declared herself un-sore she turned to him.

"That was outstanding," she said, "and after that trauma I'm sure you could use one too."

"Uhh..."

She grabbed the top fastener on his coverall. "Now I can do this or you can."

Fumbling, Morris unbuttoned his coverall. Keyson started at his neck, found every tense knot in him and smoothed it away. When she finished he lay with his head pillowed on her lap, totally relaxed. She smelled of machinery and insulation but with a faint, subtle perfume beneath it.

"I'm enjoying this, six-sigmas," she said finally, "but if we don't start now we won't be clean for dinner."

Morris sat up, amazed at his reluctance to do so. Bare inches separated them when they both stood. With a will of their own his arms snaked around her.

"Now that's what I call real improvement," she said. Then she hugged back.

***

"That is totally wrong," exclaimed Morris indignantly. "None of the four Guilds is political. Especially the Tech Guild."

The conversation, politics, started just before dessert and escalated quickly.

"You're saying there is absolutely no politics within your Guild," challenged Lace.

"Some internal politics, of course," said Morris. "That's unavoidable with any group of people. But that has more to do with who gets what assignment and even that is based on seniority. The Guild itself is completely apolitical and we work hard to keep it that way."

Morris stated a truism. The Guilds refused to enter or endorse any planetary or systemic politics anywhere, within the League or outside it.

"But the Guild is still an incredibly strong political force," countered Harkin. "Tell me, Morris, what specific technologies are you certified to work with? Don't be modest, just state the facts."

"Umm..."

"Wait," said Harkin. "What technologies are you not certified to handle?"

"LINC beacons," said Morris, "nuclear weapons and capital ship ordnance." He thought hard. "Just about anything associated with Intelligence but that's more security clearance than certification. That's about it."

Lace and Kody gasped at this.

"And are you typical of a Guild-certified Technician?" asked Harkin.

"Yes. A lot of things do depend on clearance but any Tech is de facto as qualified as I am. In an emergency any Tech can stand in."

"Will Do!", said Harkin.

"That's our official motto," said Morris. "That's our official response when given an assignment. What about it?"

"Ignoring cost," said Harkin, "which is not relevant to my point, who exactly has access to your incredible range of skills?"

"Everyone," said Morris, countering one Guild motto with another, "Universal access. That is the most fundamental principle of all the Guilds."

Again Morris spoke simple truth. Every League planet possessed at least one Guildhall and most more than one.

"Indeed," said Harkin, "and while individual Techs, or other Guild members, may have very strong political views they do not connect them in any way to their Guilds. Nor do those Guilds act on behalf of or against any political entity or group outside the bounds of a sanctioned and paid contract."

"Exactly," said Morris. "We, the Unified Guilds, maintain absolute neutrality and guarantee availability to any and every citizen of the League without exception." That should handle Harkin's assertion of politics and the Guilds.

"So what about citizens, worlds and systems not allied with the League?" asked Harkin.

Or not, thought Morris. "That depends on how close they are to membership or on sanction and contract. Or on whether or not the League deems them a threat to its sovereignty."

"And so my point," said Harkin, smiling like a predator. "Consider the myriads of worlds abandoned when the Imperium collapsed. All of them lost some technology and many lost a lot. I doubt anyone here," he eyed Jackson and Lace, "would deny that the decadent Imperial worlds depended on their technology for survival.

"So. Picture these worlds during the Collapse and Interim. Our capitol Metropole managed to retain most of its technology. That along with the available resources in Sector Prime made it a viable nucleus for the formation of the League.

"That is when the Guilds formed. That is when they coalesced around the principle of universal access. Even when it wasn't popular or convenient they lived by it and at times died for it."

"True," said Morris, "but it still doesn't explain how the guild is political."

"Again," said Harkin, "look outside the League. Most of the worlds and governments there are far less advanced. What kind of inducement is full access to League tech along with a corps of experts to explain and maintain it to a world that can barely feed or cure its own citizens?"

"That's truth and pure," said Jackson. "I was on the Survey mission to the Rainbow Island Coalition."

The big man's effusive mien vanished as he spoke.

"We landed on Reval first. They were total savages. Even worse than Esavians. Less civilized too."

Everyone grimaced at that. The Esavians occupied a group of worlds close to the Mekhajan Collective and extending to the space between the League and its ally the Semid Federation. Esavians constantly bickered and fought among themselves but would unite in an instant against any imagined slight against them or their religion.

"They were all clustered around areas that hadn't been hit by Imperial biotorps," continued Jackson, "but plenty of them just wandered and raided the rest. The largest tribe was just over eight hundred and they were only half-starving because they actually managed to grow some food. Not much of that and bloody little in the way of medicinals.

"We had hades' own time contacting them. When we did, though, all they could think about was our magic storm sticks that would help them conquer the groups closest to them and take their food. Once they found out they could trade for them they'd have given anything down to their children to have them."

Jackson fell silent and looked down. Lace put her hand on his shoulder.

"How awful," she said, softly and with genuine sympathy.

"I know," said Jackson. "They're a lot more civilized now. That's why we do what we do." He looked at Morris. "Moe, Culle's right. Granting or withholding Guild service is more powerful than the whole League Navy. That's why the Statutes and Directives are so strong. Think you can live with it?"

Morris grimaced. "I really don't have a choice." He felt soiled.

"The integrity of the guild members," added Harkin, "is what keeps their power from being abused. So far you all have done a six-sigma excellent job of it, too."

"He's right," said Jackson. "What's more, it overlaps into folks who aren't even Guild members. That says a lot."

"I suppose I can live with that, then," said Morris, smiling.

"Good," said Jackson, "'Cause tomorrow I'll be asking if it's a valid use of that power."

Keyson yawned. "Flames. I hate to be a cold seven, folks, but I had a long day. That innocent-looking Tech is a taskmaster who won't quit. Pray he doesn't target you next."

She winked as she said it and Morris didn't blush too badly. After she left he teamed up with Lace against Harkin and Jackson in a quick game of two-across. Their second game dwindled as Jackson recounted more of his mission.

Morris read about the Rainbow Island mission, of course, as did all the other Techs. Two of their own along with seven other civilians lost their lives. The furor within the Guilds almost spilled out and into politics. Though not strictly classified, many of the details were tightly held until well after the initial mission. Now the Rainbow Island Coalition was on the path to full League membership but things had been touchy for a long time. Morris' respect for Jackson climbed for his having survived it.

Jackson left not long after and Lace accompanied him. Morris continued talking with Harkin. For a non-member the man had incredible knowledge of the Guilds and their history.

Harkin yawned. "Frost. As interesting as this conversation is I fear I must leave it. I'm tired."

To Morris' amazement he and Harkin were alone save for Delroy.

"I enjoyed it too."

"I'm glad. It's not easy debating you, Morris. When you open up you unload the whole arsenal."

Morris watched Harkin leave. He felt tired but not enough so to go to sleep yet. The ship's library held nothing of interest nor did the single-player hologames.

Delroy stretched mightily at her holocad and lit a drugstick. She spared Morris not a glance but he caught a glimpse of her display and recognized it.

"What?" asked Delroy coldly when Morris sat across the 'cad.

"That's a Racefort diagram, isn't it?"

She refined the model. "What do you know about them?" She still didn't look up.

"I... We use them in fault-tolerance analysis."

She remained silent a long time.

"And," she finally asked.

"That's all."

She didn't respond. After a moment she blanked the display, looked up and stared silently at him. Uncomfortable now Morris rose and left for his room. He felt her eyes on his back until the portal slid shut behind him.

# Chapter 4. A Night On The Town

"We're too efficient," said Keyson. "We'll be unlinking late tonight or tomorrow and there's not a lot of time to do anything. The Commander wants us both on call today."

"That's polar," said Morris. "Is there any restriction on where?"

"No, silly. I was planning on studying for my cert. Wanna help?"

"Of course."

"Oh, before we start I have a question. What exactly is your and Jared's obsession with temperature?"

Blushing brightly Morris recounted the tale.

"And I wasn't even in contention?"

"Only because you'd melt the others."

Keyson stuck out her tongue and powered up her terminal.

***

"So," said Jackson, putting aside the meager remains of his dessert. "Is the use of universal access a fair tool in politics outside the League?"

"Define fair," said Keyson.

"It depends on which Guild," said Lace.

"Absolutely," added Harkin.

"Fair or not," said Morris, "it is fact."

Before long the discussion turned intense. Morris enjoyed it as much for insight as anything else. He lived as a part of the the Guild every day and he learned a lot from the others outside it.

"I can't agree with that," said Lace. "If the entire planet didn't want a chapter of the Merchant's Guild they should have stayed away. That was no reason to restrict League membership."

"Tell that to a Guild merchant," said Keyson sotto voce.

"It was every reason," said Jackson. "Jena, universal access means universal access. The locals were gravely mistaken about Guild impact on local commerce."

"But they didn't know that."

"I agree with Jared," said Morris. "What if it had been the Healer's Guild? Full access is one of the strongest mandates in the League Charter and it's there for a reason. It's been tested again and again. Check the archives for the early League, back when they were willing to make exceptions. None of them turned out well."

In the subsequent and now-reanimated discussion Morris learned that Jackson, a physician, had registered with the Healer's Guild though not as a full member.

Midafternoon Blakeschiff gathered everyone for unlinking. Morris thought this excessive but Keyson disagreed.

"I know we took the waypoint on the smooth," she said, "but we've still built up a lot of jitter. Bet me some metal we don't link deeper after Spigot. Besides, if we do need any hard-fast corrections when we drop out I want you in the forward segment."

He agreed to that albeit reluctantly. Any competent pilot or astrogator routinely planned linkspace exits well outside any possible danger at the destination. Morris ended up strapped in next to Jackson who showed his concern for any possible massive disaster by shifting slightly and going to sleep. Lace chuckled when he started snoring.

Unlinking woke Jackson, who grunted, and made Lace wrinkle her face. Harkin swallowed hard twice and Morris saw no reaction from Delroy. As soon as Kody unstrapped her she headed for her holocad. Morris rose and left for engineering.

"I'm studying," said Keyson, "but I have some logs to update. I also have to log the link drive and the Commander won't want visitors present for that. Sorry studpanther."

"Growl growl," said Morris, disappointed but hiding it. "Negative problem. Navy protocols."

She winked and nodded and Morris left. He could have asserted his certification and stayed but to no useful end. Naval regulations forbade anyone except the chief engineer from accessing the raw drive logs. He knew not whether from fear of smuggling or simple audit tracking nor did he care.

Outside the lounge Morris heard the buzz of tense conversation through the door. He waited for a pause before entering. Delroy sat at the holocad, visibly upset about something and Lace stood across from her. Morris started to leave but Delroy spotted him followed by Lace almost immediately afterward.

Lace recovered her aplomb quickly but Morris still sensed a thread of anger. She took his hand and pulled him toward the game table. Wordlessly Delroy powered down the 'cad, rose and left the room.

"Hi," said Lace. "Are you and Lydia finished or are you starting here next?" She spoke lightly and smiled.

"I... we're done. Lydia is working on drive logs."

"Good. You two work entirely too hard. Do you play Imperium?"

"Badly."

"Good," she smiled, "then I may actually have a chance."

She configured the board and gave him the first move. She botched her third move giving him an incredible advantage, made a face and lit a drugstick.

"Frost. I hope you don't slaughter me with that." Then, when she saw him looking at the 'stick. "I hope you don't mind."

"No," he said, "but why?"

"Silly habit," she said offhandedly. "Back during my school days I..."

"Wrong question," interrupted Morris. "Why now?"

She met his eyes a moment then looked down.

"Old demons," she said, "resurrected by idle confinement."

Four moves later she managed to negate the advantage she gave him and she put up a brutal fight to the very last move.

"Badly my duff," she said, smiling genuinely. "You're a sandshark on a slow river, Seigneur Tech." Her smile faded a little. "I envy you."

"What?"

"No matter where you go you're always welcome and even when there's nothing to do you find something."

Go on, urged Morris.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do on this little excursion. I know, 'Teach students in Halcyon' but nothing past that. I have no idea what to prepare and no way of finding out. You manage to finish your work and make time to help Lydia with hers."

"It's... It's not as easy as you make it sound," he said, remembering.

"But you make it look effortless." She took a hard pull on the 'stick and exhaled away from him. "I know you don't have any more of a clue than me what we're doing but I would swear, sig and seal that you do."

Unsure of what to say Morris remained silent. Lace finished the 'stick, reached out and patted his hand.

"Thank you," she said.

"Welcome. Umm... For what?"

"Listening."

***

Dinner conversation that evening was subdued. Mallory Harper announced they'd ground on Spigot the next day and that they had a lot of jitter to correct. With a careful look to details Morris detected several tense undercurrents at the table. Most came from the fact that everyone aboard wanted off the ship, if only for a little while. After dinner they left for their cabins and Morris found himself alone with Delroy.

"Yes?" asked Delroy curtly when Morris sat in front of the 'cad.

"Tell me about your diagram," he said flatly.

"Why?" she asked, tone incurious but not cold.

"Because I'm interested."

"Tell me about Racefort diagrams," she said.

"We use them for fault-tolerance assessment and minimization." He indicated several curls. "These represent measurable analytic factors. With an accurate enough reading they can be used to project performance and to get a handle on component failure."

"What kind of factors?"

"Torque, vibration, shear, frequency, heat and heat stress, ductility, impedance..."

"If you know all that why are you bothering me?" Now her expression turned impatient. "In fact theory this is a standard informational model. If you're that curious why don't you just study up on it?"

Delroy turned back to her console. When Morris made no move to leave she looked up again.

"I don't want to talk," she said flatly. "I don't want to explain, I just want to finish my job and go home. All right?"

Although she didn't raise her voice Delroy might as well have shouted. Morris shrugged, stood and left the room.

Morris found Lydia in her office working hard at the console. He turned to leave but she caught the movement.

"Morris. Hey. Come in. I'm finished with the raw logs. Now I'm just doing some detail work."

When he sat her expression turned serious.

"What happened, Morris?"

Morris gathered his thoughts, organized them and told her.

"Whoof. You sure don't go for the easy solves." She thought a moment. "Doctor Delroy is a cold fish. I'm not sure what her problem is but I don't even think she has an open-up side. Why did you even try?"

He shrugged. She half-chuckled.

"Listen," she said, "you don't go from simple algebra to non-closure calculus in one step. If you really want to practice try the others. You've come a long way but that's a challenge even I wouldn't want to face. If you really want to work try the Commander. At worst he'll just tell you to go away and ignore you."

That made Morris chuckle. "Thank you."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're quite welcome."

Keyson turned back to her console and Morris rose. Before he left she spoke.

"So. Would you like to strip naked, roll in honey and do what comes naturally?"

"Skip the honey," he managed, "too sticky."

He heard her laughing until he closed the hatch behind him.

***

Morris spent the next morning with Keyson detailing the engines. At lunch Blakeschiff announced slightly over two hours until planetfall so Morris elected to stay in the lounge. Forty-five minutes before maneuvers he helped Kody strap everyone in and once again Jackson went to sleep.

Harper brought them down with a gee-and-a-half spiral. Jackson muttered something and shifted his position but didn't wake. Morris simply closed his eyes and tried to feel the delicate changes Harper made to their position. Lace made a comment Morris pretended not to hear.

"Planetfall complete," announced Blakeschiff. "Secure from landing positions."

Morris unstrapped but didn't rise. Even though they grounded they still needed to maneuver into a berth. Lace half-stood when they did. She plopped back into her seat with an imprecation Morris was glad not to hear.

Within an hour Morris stood beside the port building with nothing much to do. Customs cleared them as a formality and he had no paperwork. He thought about billeting in the Navy transient barracks with the others but Spigot Down's Guildhall sat across the plaza from the 'port.

Securing quarters took no time at all. The local supervisor, a man named Brace, checked Morris' ident against the mission brief and handed him a keycard. With that done Morris set about locating the tools he'd need to repair Jackson's and Lace's artifacts.

While there was no standard Imperium Relic Repair Kit Morris knew exactly what he needed. Unfortunately the Hall's supply was already checked out but after a professionally short conversation he found he could simply purchase them and where.

Morris enjoyed his brief tour of Spigot. The gravity was a bit more and the atmosphere smelled strange but everything else was familiar. No surprise there. He would say the same of all the worlds on which he'd served before transferring to Dracos.

Back at the Guildhall Morris found a message from Brace.

"Ahh, Technician. I didn't expect you back this soon. I realize you're on Navy duty at the moment but I have an urgent repair and no Techs available for it. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, sir." That puzzled Morris. Guild Techs were Guild Techs no matter what planet or assignment. "You'll need to check with Commander Blakeschiff."

"I've done so." Brace showed the sig and seal. "The job shouldn't take more than a day and you have two here."

Morris nodded and Brace handed him a datacube.

"You can study this on the way there. It's a three-hour trip and I need you there soonest."

"I'm ready now," said Morris, signing Brace's datapad and giving his rets.

***

Brace's urgent assignment turned into a fusion power and water purification plant on a remote island city. Morris had the repair half-finished by that evening when someone appeared to escort him to his room. Completing it took a small part of the next morning.

"Amazing," said the city manager. "Signor Brace seemed to think this would take a long time."

Morris shrugged and accepted the paychit and bonus.

Back at the Guildhall Morris logged the assignment complete and deposited the chit. He kept part of the bonus, just in case, and deposited the rest. He also found five messages and a delivery. The first was a dinner invitation from Lace for the previous night. The second was a note accusing him of working too hard and the rest similar missives from Keyson, Jackson and Harkin.

The delivery was a small collection of dataspools, all of them concerning basic and advanced fact theory. Puzzled, he didn't order them, he dumped them in his kit bag for later.

Morris had just settled down when his comm beeped.

"It's about time," said Keyson. "I turn my back for five seconds and you vanish. You staying a while?"

"Yes. Unless there's another emergency."

"Slib. Would you like to have dinner with me this evening? I'm talking a non-synthetic, hearty and guaranteed bad-for-your-health hand-cooked meal."

"Your place or mine?"

She laughed. "That's lame, Morris. In town and I'll be there at eighteen hundred."

***

By the time six o'clock arrived Morris had showered and changed into his gray cloak and trousers, serviced his toolbelt and digested two journal articles. By the end of the second he could barely stand the wait. Oddly, he rather enjoyed it. Finally the door beeped.

"Welcome to my den of iniq..."

Morris swept the door open, dialog fully planned, only to completely lose the power of speech. Keyson stood in the doorway but a Keyson Morris had never seen.

Her hair, normally tightly braided and pinned out of the way, cascaded down her shoulders in soft brown waves. She wore a cream-colored creation that managed to both flow evocatively and cling tightly exactly where a tight cling did the most good. She wore makeup so subtle Morris couldn't see it, only the results of it and her perfume, rich and musky, rooted him where he stood.

"Hello," she said innocently. "What's wrong?"

"N-n... You're... beautiful."

"Why thank you. I'll log that under compliments. C'mon, Morris," here she winked, "I'm still Chief Engineer Keyson. This is just shore-leave Lydia and not the where-is-my-wrench model."

"Model," said Morris. "Good word."

She laughed lightly and took his arm. "I have a hover waiting, dear, and I'm hungry."

On their way out several Techs looked at them with amazement. Rather they looked at Keyson and then Morris. He felt his face heat up but she didn't notice.

"I do believe I'm a hit," she said, sitting against him in the back of the hover.

So much for not noticing.

"You really are beautiful."

"My ego thanks you, Morris. It is nice to know I'm good for something that doesn't involve a toolkit."

Morris thoroughly enjoyed their meal of which he remembered nothing. Keyson occupied his complete attention. They talked about circuit strip repair which Morris knew was not appropriate but she controlled the conversation. Somehow they ended up in a small park overlooking a lake and sitting on a bench put there, no doubt, for just such occasions.

"Civilian clothes are nice," she said opaquely, "but they can be chilly at night." After a moment she nudged him. "I'm cold."

Though it felt like moving an arm made of hull armor Morris placed his over her shoulder. She snuggled in. After a while she spoke softly.

"Would you like to kiss me?"

Morris' heart raced and he started to tremble. She turned toward him, tilted her head back and parted her lips. Shaking, he leaned closer, closer...

Morris' lips tingled when they met hers and it spread instantly throughout his body. It washed through him like fire and warmed his soul. He felt... Stars. He saw the stars in her eyes, hot bright points of ecstasy that fluttered around him. Time stretched to infinity...

"Nice," she whispered, laying her head against him. "Very, very, very nice."

After a long, pleasant time Morris felt tension creep into Lydia's body.

"I swore I wouldn't seduce you," she said, almost inaudible. "When we started, I swore not to."

"Why?" he asked, though the word should have stuck.

"Because you deserve... more. You deserve to find things out... I mean..."

"On my own?" he asked softly when she didn't speak.

"Yeah. Something like that."

Morris reached up and stroked her hair.

"But I wouldn't have," he said. "I don't regret this. Not one milli. Don't you either."

Now he felt a smile.

"You're so sweet," she said. "Promise me you won't change."

"I promise."

Morris worked his hand to her neck and began massaging it.

"You have five hundred years to stop that," she said. "I'll do whatever you want."

"Why did you do... All of this?"

"For truth? You reminded me of me. You reminded me of me after I failed the placement. Being a Tech was all I wanted. It was my dream and the focus of my life."

"Dreams are good," he said.

"Yes, they are. But they shouldn't be everything. No one single thing should ever be the only thing in your life. Ever. I learned that the hard way."

"Well... Thank you again."

"Welcome."

After a time they took a hover back to the 'port. Morris walked Lydia to her quarters and himself back to the Guildhall. He stepped lightly and savored every nuance of everything he felt.

***

Departure from Spigot went much as from Dracos. Morris didn't have to draw a sidearm and Blakeschiff gave no briefing but Morris regretted neither. As Morris suspected Blakeschiff linked much deeper than before though still well below the RFP threshold. After they unstrapped the routine returned to normal.

"Not a lot to do here," said Lydia, when Morris came to engineering. "The locals serviced her well."

More for practice than necessity Morris verified this. The drives still had a barely-detectable variance but he initialed over Lydia's signature so no problem there.

"So what are our plans, Signor Tech?"

"Salad oil and grav pads?"

"Seriously," chuckled Lydia. "We're still on plus time."

"I thought I'd fix Jared's model and Jena's box. The Commander hinted that he had a briefing but also that he'd not release it until we cross into Halcyon space."

She nodded. "He does hold his silence well."

Morris and Lydia found Lace, Harkin and Delroy in the lounge. At his request Lace fetched her box. Morris spread a lightpad on a table and set out his tools. Woven of tough yet flexible thick optical fibers the pad provided a soft glow which, when combined with overhead light and his holospecs, gave full illumination from all sides.

As with most late Imperium artifacts this one was simple, durable and elegant to the point of decadence. At a half-heard request from Lydia Morris jacked an image feed into his 'specs. As he worked he talked through what he did, thoroughly enjoying himself in the process. Idly he commented on the symmetry present in places that needed none. The optical fibers, wires and circuits formed patterns and macro-patterns that had no effect on their function whatsoever. Before Morris began reconditioning the crystals themselves he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"Lunch," said Lace softly. "I won't have you miss it on my account."

During the meal Lace seemed subdued, less willing than usual by far to participate in conversation. Lydia recounted to Kody and Jackson exactly what Morris did. She only exaggerated a little. He didn't call her on it since both of the others enjoyed the tale. He did stop her once or twice for important details she omitted. During one of these he caught sight of Delroy paying rapt attention.

After lunch Lace sat beside him, visibly troubled. When he donned his 'specs and attached the feed she stopped him.

"Morris, don't," she almost pleaded. "I had no idea this would be so much work. I don't want you wasting your time on something that just isn't important. I don't want to take you away from the things you have to do."

"It's no problem," he assured. "For truth."

"But... no. I love it and I love my uncle whether it does anything or not. Please don't waste your time, Morris."

How Lydia managed to poke his ribs so hard without Lace noticing Morris did not know.

"Sig... Jena. It is no problem. Truth. If I didn't really want to do this I wouldn't. I love restoring old artifacts and I enjoy working on things that don't have people's lives or fortunes depending on them. Six-sigmas no blather."

Lace looked at Lydia, who nodded, then back to Morris.

"Now I know why the Guild prices are so high," she smiled.

Morris smiled back and started working. He finished just before dinner, noticing that his audience grew by Jackson, Kody and Blakeschiff. The commander nodded slightly and gave Morris a tight smile. When Morris closed the box and opened it again the crystals flickered and flashed and a pair of indistinct yet graceful holographic dancers frolicked above the box, to Lace's great delight.

Morris sensed a vague undercurrent in the strangely subdued dinner conversation. Blakeschiff brought it to a head when he announced he'd release information the next day. He said nothing of its nature but none expected that.

Lace sat across from Morris, strangely quiet. Lydia noticed and Morris could tell she intended to do something about it. When the others broke up after the meal Lydia moved toward Lace.

Alone for a moment, Morris approached Delroy. She had just started on a twisted diagram he couldn't fathom.

"Did you send me those spools?" he asked without preamble.

"Yes." Still cold and distant. "Have you started them yet?"

"No."

She looked up, started to say something then decided against it. "Start them," she finally said. "After you do we'll talk."

Lydia called Morris over to where she and Lace sat.

"Technician Taylor," she said. "You have a job tomorrow."

"Yes?"

"I wonder if you might help me service the drives."

"Of course," he said. She well knew he would.

"Polar. We'll have an assistant."

***

"Good morning, Morris."

Lace met him in engineering the next morning. She wore a standard protective coverall, not comfortably, and had her hair pinned back.

"I hope you don't mind me watching," she said.

"Of course not. May I ask why?"

Lace thought a moment. "My company has two Techs on permanent assignment. I know that's expensive but I can't tell you a thing about them past their names. They're always there and when something breaks they fix it. After yesterday I decided maybe I need to know something more about you. And them."

Morris smiled.

"Fair coin," he said. "If you're that interested I have a friend back on Dracos. I promise you he will be happy to tell you all you want to know."

She smiled warmly at this. "Deal. I think I'd like that."

Morris kept his smug smile to himself. Let Kelven see what it was like to have the tables turned on him.

With Lace's assistance the work moved slowly but help she did. Under Lydia's watchful eye and with Morris' careful instruction she accomplished a lot. She lacked the intuitive spark of a true Tech but she brought eagerness and a wonderfully open mind to every task she tried.

"I enjoyed that," said Lace when they finished. "Thank you Lydia and thank you Morris."

"You're quite welcome," said Lydia.

"Actuators next?" asked Morris.

"No. The Commander's releasing information after lunch. That, I think, takes priority."

***

"I have the information you've been wanting," said Blakeschiff. "We will be engaged in a training mission at the University of Halcyon on Helene. They have assembled a group of faculty, graduate students and specialists in relevant fields. We have both group and individual data for each of you."

With that he handed out dataspools. Upon receiving them everyone headed for their quarters.

Morris worked hard forcing himself to stay awake. Blakeschiff, he thought irreverently, desperately needed to take the Tech Academy communication courses. Although the information was there it was hard to glean through sheer monotony. Also, though the spool was terse and factual Morris could smell the politics behind it.

For himself Morris would have five students. Ted Jones and Vicki Teek were Halcyon technicians with an interest in League technique. He specialized in robotics as well as light and heavy mechanics, she in electronics, photonics and computer tech. Morris grinned at this: he made no distinction between disciplines. In addition to those two Morris had three graduate students: Tina Eisley, Ron Garrett and Gregory Polov. Morris felt a twinge of sympathy for those three since they would study under all of the League team.

After he finished his students' bios Morris turned his attention to his curriculum and how he planned to teach it. Most of it comprised standard first- and second-year Academy information with nothing remotely approaching a security classification. After a while he began feeling confident about his assignment.

***

Mid-afternoon Morris started feeling restive. He worked up the best plans he could but he simply could not take any more of Blakeschiff's poorly-written data. Lydia had engineering hard-sealed so he wandered toward the lounge. Jackson and Harkin were already there and when Morris walked in the big man broke out in a huge grin.

"That's ten million halcies you owe me, Culle," said Jackson.

"Do I want to know?" asked Morris, pulling a glass of chog.

"We had a small wager as to who would succumb next," explained Harkin. "I bet on Jena. You disappointed me, Morris. I was counting on your disciplined study habits."

"What disciplined study habits?" asked Morris, face totally straight. "That stuff was boring."

Harkin barked an uncharacteristically loud laugh.

"For truth," continued Morris, "if a Tech had written it I'd still be there. We take classes in how to mix information-dense and not boring."

"Double-plus," said Jackson. "I do believe my spools would terraform Eauvert."

Now Morris chuckled. One of the gems of the Windy sector, Eauvert was a paradise world: perfect temperature, climate and atmosphere. Unfortunately all of its land but its polar icecaps sat under at least a meter of water.

"Jared," said Morris, "if you bring me your statue I'll start on it."

"I appreciate that Moe but you don't have to..."

"I want something to do," interrupted Morris. "I absolutely cannot finish my spools until I do something."

Jackson nodded and left. Lace walked in before he returned. She pulled a glass of double-strength chog, sat and lit a strong drugstick.

"Heaven's flames," she said. "Those spools are bo-ring. Someone needs to teach that man how to write."

"So, Culle," said Morris, "ten million halcies, was it?"

Lace speared Morris with a sharp look then turned it to Harkin.

"You and Jared. Flames."

Delroy walked into the room, sat at the holocad and powered it up, all without speaking a word. Morris caught a quick swap of glances between them but he couldn't interpret it.

"Ahh. Company," said Jackson. He handed Morris the bundle containing the figure.

Morris spread out his tools and hooked in the feed. Jackson and Lace marveled at the collection of small and intricate gears when Morris dissembled it. Morris carefully cleaned and lubricated them then sealed them with a thin coat of protection. He found both light and sound sensors along with a host of burned-out micro-actuators and impellers. Morris repaired and replaced them carefully, marveling again at the decadent workmanship that went into it. When he finished he replaced the long-depleted power block with an induction-charge cell. He was almost ready to reassemble it when Lace stopped him for dinner.

"Amazing," said Jackson with none of his usual banter. "And you call that relaxing."

***

Dinner conversation revolved around Blakeschiff's information. He gave out a few more details but not many. Naturally. Though boring his spools were fairly complete. Lydia sat beside Morris and ate in silence.

"I must say, Signor Taylor," said Lydia, after dessert, "you are contagious. I finished this afternoon most of what takes me a day, ordinarily."

Jackson grinned suddenly at this. Morris could tell by his expression that he thought of something, probably dirty, dealing with speed. Unfortunately for the big man Lydia caught it as well.

"Don't even think it," said Lydia. "You don't have the right tools for the job."

That took Jackson aback. His eyebrows shot up.

"And if you want to take my temperature you best wear a thermanull suit."

Revenge. Jackson emitted a strangled laugh and blushed a brilliant crimson. Before long, though, he was laughing as hard as the rest. Lydia caught Morris' eye and winked at him.

Finishing Jackson's figure took Morris a while but he enjoyed it. After he reassembled and polished it it moved, bent and danced in response to the variable strobe Morris shone on it.

"Incredible," said Jackson. "I had no idea. Thank you, Morris."

"You're quite welcome. There's a standard induction cell in there now and I added a manual cutoff if you don't want it active."

Jackson nodded, wrapped it gently and took it away. Blakeschiff approached Morris.

"Fine work, Technician," he said.

It seemed to Morris that Blakeschiff's voice held less coolness. "Thank you, sir."

"May I borrow your restoration tools? I know some Techs are touchy about that."

"Certainly, sir," said Morris, "but if you have something you want restored I'll do it."

Blakeschiff actually smiled. "Thank you, Technician, but no. I have taken five Guild restoration courses and I am quite qualified. I also enjoy doing it. I do have a small diorama I've been working on."

Morris packed the tools carefully and handed them over. "If you run into trouble I'll gladly help."

"Thank you, Technician, I appreciate that. I will also lock these tools in the ship's safe when I am not using them."

"Thank you, sir."

When Blakeschiff walked out Lace motioned Morris to the table where she, Jackson and Harkin were setting up a game of something.

"That was interesting," she said. "Our commander does have a vice. What he said about your new tools. Are they rare and valuable."

Morris squirmed mentally a moment. "Well... Considering we're in link between Halcyon and the League, I suppose they're quite rare and..."

"Morris," she interrupted, "if I asked you how much they cost would it bother me?"

He shrugged. "It might but it wasn't more than they're worth and I can get that back if I sell them."

She didn't particularly like that answer but Morris simply looked back evenly. He spoke nothing but the truth.

"Slib," she said. "We just happen to have enough for a game of two-across. Shall we?"

***

Morris spent the rest of the trip splitting time between mission preparation, engineering and Delroy's spools. Halfway through the second he discovered Racefort diagrams. Fact theorists used them analogously to Techs but there all similarity ended. Where Techs worked with measurable physical quantities fact theory had instead highly subjective quantities and arbitrary metrics. Though he tried to assimilate it Morris' pace slowed to a slog. Give him something tangible.

***

Morris fidgeted outside Lydia's office. They had unlinked in Halcyon space and according to Blakeschiff they'd ground the next day. When he left engineering earlier Lydia sent him an invitation back before dinner.

"Hi," said Lydia. "Punctual as always."

Morris felt a warm smile suffusing him. She wore her civilian clothes with her hair unpinned, gathered but down.

"You are beautiful," he said, "still and again."

"Thank you," she smiled, taking his hand and leading him inside.

Inside the office Morris found her desk completely cleared, unusual, with a cozy meal for two already set out.

"Wonderful," he said genuinely.

She smiled and they sat. Later, with the meal a pleasant memory Morris sat on the couch with Lydia cuddled against him. She had soft music and gentle surf-sounds playing in the background.

"Won't you be with us on Helene?" asked Morris.

"No. The Navy is sending Halcyon some surplussed Cuttles and we're going to be training their officers on them. You know that."

Morris tried not to show his disappointment.

"Me too," she said. "So let's make the most of this."

Whether Morris kissed her or she him he didn't know, only that it lasted forever. Morris drank in every sensation of her, savoring every nuance.

"Still so wonderful," she mumbled, now relaxed against him. "When we finish this mission I'll have some leave coming. Would you like me to spend it with you?"

"Yes." The word slipped out before the surprise of what she asked registered.

"Good, because there are still a lot of things I want to teach you."

Morris felt the warmth in this, even as his mind worked through every implication of it. Finally he sat back and held her. Forever.

# Chapter 5. Back To School

Morris stood in an isolated departure lounge and watched the ship taxi away. Blakeschiff landed them with military precision all the way down to timing things so that the local time matched ship time. Once the boarding tube locked the others left for their cabins in a last-minute hustle after forgotten items. Blakeschiff instructed the League Embassy officers on the disposition of the cargo, presumably including his, and Morris tried to snatch a few minutes in engineering. Even now that amused him even though Lydia was busy and his attempt failed. Now they all waited in a facility not unlike the one on Dracos.

The door beeped and opened to admit three people. The first, a chubby and somewhat short man with a sparse ring of gray hair, trotted briskly to Blakeschiff who snapped to attention and saluted.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the League. Please allow me to extend the warmest greetings of and on behalf of the Halcyon Autonomous Region. Welcome and well met. I'm Johnathan Rackwell and I am most honored to meet you."

Without a pause for breath Rackwell grabbed Blakeschiff's hand and pumped it vigorously.

"Undersecretary to the Minister of Trade Relations George Ialie," said Rackwell, indicating the second man, "and our university president Leona Collins."

When Rackwell finally ran out of words Blakeschiff acknowledged their greetings and made a pat speech of his own. Then he introduced the members of the team and the Halcyon folk made welcoming hand-shake rounds.

"Now that that's done," said Rackwell, eyes twinkling. "I've no doubt you'd like some time to settle in. I don't know if you've eaten but we prepared a banquet at the University."

"We haven't," lied Blakeschiff, "and that would be most welcome."

Rackwell beamed at this and motioned them toward the door.

***

Perhaps it was just the starport, perhaps Morris, but his first impression of Helenton was of a vibrant, exciting world pulsating with life. Rackwell escorted them to a large hover with the university logo on the side. Morris ended up seated next to Ialie but Jackson on the man's other side spared Morris the need for conversation. That suited Morris. He concentrated on taking in the scenery.

This was unlike any League world Morris had known. Here he saw no giant buildings, no familiar companies or Guild markings. League architects worked to utilize space efficiently but here buildings seemed to pop up wherever they wanted. He liked the planet already.

When the hover entered the university campus Morris felt a wave of nostalgia. This part of Helene was well into summer and the students' activities reflected it. They strolled the grounds, studied beneath trees and played many games of outdoor something. The hover finally stopped in front of a small building nestled among several others and bearing the name 'Ballard Hall.'

"This is yours for your stay here," explained Rackwell. "If you need a hover just notify the vehicle pool. After the banquet we'll register you for meals and events. Ballard has all the amenities but we would love you to participate with the students, too."

Rackwell left them to freshen up with a promise to return an hour later. They found their luggage there already. Morris spent fifteen minutes unpacking before changing into his formal attire. His boots were slightly fancier versions of standard work boots and his gray cloak and trousers interwoven with shiny threads. His simple white shirt sported the League crest on the left and the Tech Guild's on the right. He slipped his penlaser and minikit into their pockets.

"Polar to orbit," said Lace, running her fingers across Morris' cloak and shirt. "Stud blood no blather. You look nice, Morris."

Lace dressed simply though formally, as did the others. Jackson wore a Survey uniform with medic tabs and Blakeschiff changed to full-formal. Morris got the impression he wanted to be back at the ship prepping for the mission.

***

Morris picked at his food, nibbling as his stomach permitted. What Rackwell touted as a simple meal was nothing of the sort. Why Helene made such an ordeal out of a simple visit from the League team escaped Morris. Since the League mission most directly involved the University they had the largest number of people there but plenty of others sat in attendance as well: local and planetary government, businesses and media. The full magnitude of the event hit Morris when a smiling student handed him an official program. Then, to his horror, he spied himself scheduled to speak as the official representative of the Technical Guild.

"Are you going to be all right?" asked Lace, seated to his left.

"I... Yes." The quaver in his voice shamed Morris.

"Platitudes," said Jackson, who sat to Morris' right. "Tell them what an honor it is to be here, how you're looking forward to the mission and how much you like the planet."

Jackson's words didn't interrupt the movement of food from his plate to his mouth.

"I'd take it for you if I could, Mo," continued Jackson, "but I'm not official anything."

That amazed Morris. Jackson was both serious and sincere. As Morris thought on it Lace and Jackson both maneuvered to seat him between them, insulating him from some of the crowd. He felt ashamed that he needed it, embarrassed that they knew it but grateful that they did it. As if telepathic Jackson nudged Morris with his elbow.

"Just think of the temperatures we can take here, spiker."

Feeble though it was Jackson's joke relaxed Morris enough to eat a few more bites.

The speeches started after dessert, a nauseatingly rich construction of sweetness Morris didn't even think to finish. First came Ialie, then several others, then Collins. The speeches were long and boring and only the cold knot of fear in his gut kept Morris awake for them. Anticipation, or dread, dried his mouth several times and even taking small sips he drained his water glass three times. Then his bladder made its contribution to his overall mood. Then Rackwell introduced Blakeschiff who gave a very pat and professional speech and summary of the missions. Then it was Morris' turn. Lace reached under the table and squeezed his hand. Morris heard his name announced and a brief spate of applause.

***

"Ladies and gentlemen." The microphone picked up his voice perfectly.

He took the required communication courses at the Academy. One of them included a section on public speaking. This wasn't Morris' first speech but all the others happened in front of fourteen other Tech trainees.

"It gives me great pleasure to be here today."

That teacher was a nightmare. How well did he know how people, especially Techs, dreaded the thought of speaking before crowds. Knowing, perhaps, that his students might one day face such a catastrophe he left them a legacy. "Keep it simple," he frequently said. "Say what you must, sum it up and sit down. If you want to make flowery speeches join the Senate."

"I am a member of the League Technical Guild. Our official motto is Will do! Before it can be done, however, it must be learned. On behalf of my Guild and myself I am honored to have the opportunity to teach. Thank you."

Morris walked halfway back to his seat before the applause started. Lulled to apathy by fine food and long speeches it took the crowd a moment to appreciate the brevity of Morris'. When they did they reacted with boisterous loud approval. Before he sat Lace made him take a short bow. Then his legs collapsed and, safely seated, he started shaking. She took his hand and held it tightly until he calmed down.

"I don't know how to follow that," said the next speaker, a lady whose name Morris missed. "You set a high mark, Technician. I'm glad I'm not in your class."

Some laughter. Morris felt a surreal sense of detachment through the rest of the speeches. Finally, blessedly, they all ended and he could find a fresher.

***

Morris found a surprise waiting in the common room at Ballard Hall. Lydia stood there waiting for them. She warmed him with a long hug.

"You did a good job speaking," she said, not releasing his hand.

"You... saw that?"

"Of course. It was broadcast over the University channels. Some of the locals probably picked it up too."

Exactly what he didn't need to hear.

"Chief Engineer," said Blakeschiff.

Lydia came to attention and saluted.

"I assume you have a reason for being here?"

"Aye sir. The ship is secure, all personnel are aboard and we're ready for launch. Lt. Harper sent me to report."

"Very well." Blakeschiff glanced at Morris. "Our Tech did do a fine job, yes?"

The two of them departed not long afterward and the others changed into more casual attire. Morris knew he'd never again don formals without remembering this.

"I tell you the lad's a natural," said Jackson, out of formals and back to his old self.

"Truth," said Lace. "I don't know about the rest of you but I'm ready for a nice game of Imperium."

"An island of normalcy," said Morris, "among turbulence and chaos."

Lace set up the board and dealt the cards when Morris felt someone behind him. When he turned he saw Delroy.

"When you have time, Technician, I need some help setting up my holocad."

"Heaven's flames and hell's frost, Crystal," said Lace. "Can't that wait? We've barely arrived. Is your research that critical?"

Delroy stiffened imperceptibly. Had Morris not looked closely he'd have missed it.

"Wait," said Morris. Then, to Lace. "This won't take long."

Lace sighed and took out a drugstick. Morris grabbed his toolbelt and followed Delroy. Fixing the holocad didn't take long. Several connection fibers had broken and the trip dislodged a circuit strip.

"I'm sorry about that," said Morris, nodding toward the other room.

"You needn't apologize, Technician," she replied, lighting a 'stick of her own.

"We're done, Specialist," he said.

"Thank you."

Morris almost thought he detected a note of warmth in her voice.

***

The Imperium just entered its fourth turn when the door beeped. Lace sighed in exasperation as Harkin answered the door. Rackwell strode in, less formal now but not a whit slower.

"I hope your accommodations are suitable," said Rackwell, shaking Harkin's hand for good measure. "The faculty planned a small get-together. We would be most honored if you all would attend. I understand this may seem a bit rushed but, well, to us this is a major accomplishment."

"Of course we'll attend," smiled Lace. "Morris, you or Jared need to get Crystal."

Jackson manifested a sudden obsession with replacing the Imperium cards exactly right so Morris walked for Delroy's rooms.

"Specialist," said Morris after a polite knock.

She looked up from her holocad.

"Doctor Rackwell invited us to an informal faculty reception."

She started to say something, hesitated then nodded. She didn't vent sarcasm all over Morris which surprised him. She powered down her 'cad and started for her fresher.

This gathering was much less formal which suited Morris immediately. While the University people did have a great interest in their guests they also had matters to discuss among themselves. Tables against one wall held an impressive array of hors d'oeuvre, tea and chog, all local, which Morris enjoyed immensely. Before long he found himself in a detailed discussion of circuit flows and efficiency theory with two engineering instructors. After a while Rackwell, currently making rounds of the League team, joined Morris' group.

"I must say, Technician, I was impressed by your speech. Short, concise and to the point. Just right after the long hydrogen-emitters before you. Inspired."

Morris shrugged. Easy to do now that it was behind him.

"I was nervous," he said, "that was pure communication training."

Rackwell chuckled.

"Since I have you here, sir, I have a question." Morris took a moment to compose it. "I was and am surprised at our reception here so far. Do you treat all your guests that way or are we that special?"

Rackwell considered this quite a while. "Tell me, Technician, what exactly was the nature of your briefings?"

"We were told we'd be teaching elements of League science and tech. The Commander didn't release particulars until we crossed into Halcyon space."

Again Rackwell took his time before answering.

"I see, then," he said finally. "That does shift the spectrum." His smile returned. "Our request to the League was for a pilot program here. We'd like to begin incorporating your practices into our curricula and establish a regular transfer program. We have strong trade and good ties to your Merchant's Guild. If we can produce our own League-trained personnel that will both strengthen our ties and grant us a degree of independence. The best of all worlds, if you will. Your team is here to determine feasibility."

That surprised Morris. It would have been nice to know but it changed his plans not at all.

"Is there a problem?"

"Not at all, sir," said Morris. "I've traveled to a few out-League postings and I've never received a welcome like this. My briefing spools contained little more than what you want me to teach and I didn't ask for more."

"The hallmark of laser-focused excellence," grinned Rackwell. "Please be welcome and enjoy it, then. We really are glad to have you here."

Rackwell left with this and several others wandered up. Soon they were all immersed in technology again.

***

Morris walked into his classroom. Though Ballard Hall had a nice and well-stocked kitchen Morris elected, along with most of the others, to eat at the student cafeterias. Morris' guide, a vivacious theater major named Patricia Kelley, talked nonstop when she found Morris would listen. She chatted about campus life, her classes and all the activities available all the while pointing out the various buildings. She finished by giving Morris her comm combo and that of several friends who would, she assured him, gladly help any of the League team with anything related to the campus or the town adjoining it.

Five sets of eyes fastened on Morris when he walked to the podium and jacked in his datapad. He felt a cold lump in his stomach, not as bad as the banquet but there nonetheless.

"Good morning. I'm Morris Taylor, I'm a Guild certified Technician and I'll be teaching you the fundamentals of League technology. I know you've all had basic calculus, statistics and stochastic process theory so that's where we'll start. I'll do my best to build on what you know but if you don't understand please stop me and ask."

With that Morris launched into his lesson. Before long he relaxed. Technology was an absorbing subject and he warmed to it easily. His research enabled him to give both League- and Halcyon-specific examples as well as similarities between them. By the time they stopped for lunch he'd learned everyone's name and technological preferences. He knew he'd lose the three graduate students after lunch and he prepared accordingly.

"If there are no questions," he said. "We'll stop here for now."

There were none. His three grads, Tina Eisley, Ron Garrett and Greg Polov left leaving Ted Jones and Vicki Teek behind.

"Fascinating," said Jones, looking no little overwhelmed. "Are we working through lunch?" He appeared apprehensive at this.

"No," said Morris, starting to relax now. "I'm hungry. After lunch you two can help me set up my labs for next time. We'll go over your specialties while we do."

"That's... cryo," said Teek, "but mechanics and electronics are pretty disparate areas, Dr. Taylor."

"Not really. That's what the unification principles are all about. You should be able to handle that after what we did today. Incidentally I'm not 'Dr. Taylor.' 'Technician' or 'Morris' will do fine. And speaking of lunch, where's the best place to eat it?"

Teek suggested the second-closest cafeteria and Jones agreed eagerly.

***

Over lunch Morris found both Jones and Teek interested in Imperium technology. Not a surprise since the Imperium attained a technological pinnacle before the Collapse, a pinnacle it took many centuries to equal or surpass. More than a few systems today still struggled with technology inferior to that. Only by virtue of necessity and size did the League outstrip the Imperium. As they ate Morris discussed both early and late Imperium tech and the ties between them. He also studied his students carefully.

Ted Jones was not portly, just 'short for his size.' Quite a few years older than Morris, Jones loved discussing interesting jobs he'd had. He reminded Morris a great deal of Harkin. Jones always had a story, usually humorous and always with himself as the unfortunate butt of the joke.

Teek was a highly detail-conscious person. Whip-thin but in no way frail she possessed long fingers ideal for delicate electronic and photonic work.

After lunch they adjourned to Morris' lab. Per his instructions no one prepped it so he and the other two set about that task. As they worked Morris reinforced the principals he gave during his lecture and worked to lay the groundwork for the ones he'd cover soon.

***

With class and prep finished for the day Morris returned to Ballard Hall, happily tired. He found Delroy there but none of the others. She didn't acknowledge his entrance so he walked to his rooms, fetched his Fact Theory spools and settled in the common room to read them.

"That was fun," said Lace, entering with Harkin. Then, on seeing Morris and Delroy. "You two. Heaven's flames."

Lace spoke with amusement but Morris saw Delroy stiffen. Morris marked his place and powered down the 'pad. Lace fetched tea and chog for herself and Harkin and plopped down on an amorphous chair.

"Now," said Lace. "Dinner plans. Dr. Rackwell doesn't have anything for this evening so we're on our own." Here she winked at Morris. "No speeches either."

Morris grinned back.

"Any preferences?" she asked. "Good. When I dismissed class today Greg told me about a restaurant not far from here. Polov, Morris. You have him too."

Morris nodded.

"He's got a hades of a load," said Harkin. "He's the only grad with all five of us and a full regular schedule."

"He can do it, though," said Lace, nodding. "He's double-majoring in paleoarchaeology and business management and administration. I have a suspicion he wants to be a field scientist."

Harkin agreed and the two of them began discussing their common students. As Lace talked Morris discovered she already knew her students thoroughly and personally, even on a first-name basis. He felt a quick spurt of amusement at this.

Midway through their discussion Jackson entered, humming tunelessly.

"For truth," said the big man. "I could learn to like this. Imagine, if you will, being paid to tell stories and have fun. I, of course, don't need to imagine it."

Lace shook her head. "I hope you at least covered some subject matter."

"Six-sigmas on the beam, lovely lady, but you absolutely cannot discuss Survey without examples and those I have in plenty."

"As if," said Lace, then she recounted her suggestion for dinner. Jackson agreed immediately. "Then it's decided." She looked at Delroy. "Crystal?"

"No."

That pained Lace but she covered it quickly. "Slib. I'll call Greg."

***

The restaurant, aptly named The Study Guide, sat just over a block from the campus. It catered to the student population with a menu neither fancy nor expensive, all-day and all-night hours, good lighting and comfortable seats. Morris saw several groups of students studying and relaxing. The food was good and the menu boasted an impressive list of specialty chog and tea.

"I wish I owned the place," said Polov. "They make their year during finals and everything else is pure profit."

Eisley, seated beside Polov, voiced her assent.

"Spoken like a true businessman," said Jackson.

Morris placed Polov not many years younger than himself. He was average-sized and would fade into any crowd. Until he spoke. He possessed a sharp mind and, to the best of Morris' observation, a perfect memory. He was well-versed in both paleontology and archeology with emphasis on late Imperium and the Collapse. During the conversation he confirmed Lace's suspicion.

"Of a sort," said Polov, referring to field science. "Both of my parents worked for an outfitting company. That's where they met, for truth, and they took half a dozen expeditions offplanet before they retired to office work." Polov warmed to this. "I went along on three of them. There's a serious problem with civilian survey and exploration, you see.

"The best scientists can't organize an expedition worth feces and the best organizers just aren't scientists. That's one thing I can do. I'm not the most brilliant scientist in Halcyon but I don't have to be. If I'm scientist enough so the others will listen, that's what matters. Once I put together one successful mission I'll be valuable enough for invitations to others. That's what I really want."

Morris heard the passion in Polov's voice. He knew the man would succeed.

"You'll get there," said Lace. "With that kind of drive it's six-sigma certain."

"Oh," said Polov. "I do tend to get excited over it."

"All truth and no blather there," said Eisley.

"Take plenty of communication classes," said Morris. "While you're about it you should learn to give speeches, too. Both prepared and impromptu."

"Yes sir," said Polov. "I have a fine example to follow."

To that Morris had no answer.

***

Morris woke early the next day and realized he had nothing to do. After the first day the League team would hold classes on an alternating-day morning-afternoon schedule. Jones and Teek had their regular jobs and that left Morris with nothing to do and ample time to do it. A check of their schedule showed Harkin in class which meant Morris should have company.

Lace answered Morris' question before he could ask. Her door opened and she emerged, yawning, fresh from a shower.

"Morning," she mumbled, "is the antithesis of civilization."

She drew a cup of chog, double-strength, sipped it past the point of easy spill and sat carefully at the table.

"And you're a morning person," she said disdainfully. "Disgusting."

"Someone has to be," he grinned.

Lace scowled hard at him but couldn't hold it long. The expression simply didn't fit her.

"You need some vices, hon," she said. "It's not natural to be alert and awake at this hour."

Jackson chose that moment to make his entrance, spry and cheerfully humming with nothing close to a tune.

"Good morning my fine friends," boomed Jackson. "Isn't it a loverly day indeed?"

Lace rolled her eyes and muttered something Morris and Jackson both pretended not to hear. After chog the three of them decided to breakfast at the closest cafeteria.

***

"Hi. Good morning."

Morris looked up to see Patricia Kelley flanked by four others he didn't know.

"It's morning," grinned Lace. "Join us?"

"Sure. Thanks."

The other students were Terri, Robert, Allan and Joseph with, apparently, no last names. All of them had either a major or minor in theater and Kelley spoke at length about their current project.

"Come to rehearsal," said Kelley. "It's always a posh and we'd love to have you there."

Morris would have refused but Lace accepted for all of them.

"I will need to leave for class this afternoon," said Lace.

"Negative problem there," said Kelley. "People are always inning and outing. The only time we have for serious rehearsal is in the evenings and that doesn't always work. We all just come when we can and Selly, that's our director, works around it."

***

Rehearsal, discovered Morris, included more than just the cast and crew. Since even the theater majors had other classes they all came and left as needed. The director, Doctor Raphael Mouzon 'call me Selly' Seldon adapted what he had to who he had and filled in empty spots with whomever he could grab, induce or cajole.

"Ex-cel-lent. Plus-plus. Fresh faces. How wonderful," exclaimed Seldon. "Class. Class."

Silence. Almost.

"We are singularly honored by the presence of three of our League guests." Then to Morris, Jackson and Lace. "Come come come. Pick a spot and we'll work you in."

Then what Seldon said sank in and before he could object Morris found himself whisked onto the stage. Seldon thrust a datapad into Morris' hand.

"Your part is highlighted," he said. Then, when he saw Morris examining the lighting and audio gear. "Not to fear, Tech. You can relax here, we shall endeavor to keep our machines working."

Lace almost choked from stifling her laughter which, fortunately, Seldon didn't notice.

After an anxious half-hour Morris relaxed and started enjoying himself. These students differed little from the ones at the Academy and as often as not Seldon had their attention elsewhere. Morris' part changed several times as did many of the others and he even had a chance to work the sound system. He didn't realize he stayed the entire morning until Seldon broke for lunch.

Before he could even think of leaving Kelley and two others took possession of him. Lace and Jackson had already left and Morris had no idea where to find them. Lace had class but that left Jackson still at large.

"They're probably at Ryan commons," said Kelley. "That's the best place for lunch."

The two with her, Scott, a botany major and economics major Edward agreed.

"They say the leftovers and scrapings there are next week's main course in Bayner Hall."

Scott chuckled and Edward muttered something about "flush twice" but Morris missed most of that.

They found both Harkin and Jackson, seated with some of their students, working on a meal. Harkin discussed weather patterns and how they affected survey techniques with Jackson describing how survey teams worked around weather.

After lunch Morris considered returning to rehearsal but something occurred to him that morning. A quick trip to Rackwell's office secured Morris access to the University's technical course curricula. He settled at the library and began reviewing it. With an eye to how Halcyon techs presented their material Morris could personalize his even more.

Morris stomach growled loudly. A girl sitting two tables over looked up and he decided to stop for dinner. After checking a map he took a shortcut through a classroom building on his way back to his quarters. As he passed one of the rooms he heard a familiar voice. Quietly, so as not to disturb the group, he moved to observe it.

Crystal Delroy sat with a handful of her students. Morris recognized Polov and Eisley but none of the others visible. Especially he didn't recognize Delroy.

They discussed abstract criterion quantification which Morris struggled to understand. To him it seemed arbitrary and subjective but not so Delroy. She spoke with none of her usual acid harshness and with animation and passion Morris didn't know she possessed. Gone were her aloofness and distance and present in their place were dedication to and a love of her subject. The talk so absorbed Morris that he didn't realize they had finished.

Several students gathered around Delroy but the others simply left. Polov and Eisley spotted Morris and started toward him before he could make good his own departure. Eisley had a question about their assignment and Polov needed clarification of the answer. By that time Delroy finished and started homeward. Feeling somewhat foolish Morris walked fast to catch up with her.

"Good afternoon, Specialist," he said.

Nothing. Once she seemed ready to say something but decided against it. Lace, Harkin and Jackson waited in the common room so Delroy merely walked wordlessly to her rooms and left Morris to the others.

After dinner the four of them attended student music recitals. Even though some of the works didn't excite Morris he appreciated the others and he uniformly enjoyed the dedication and work the students put into their performances.

Back in his rooms, showered and ready for bed, Morris noticed his terminal flashing. He tapped the release key and the message opened. It contained two words: 'Thank you.' Unsigned.

***

The next day Morris' students showed him they took his assignment seriously. Morris wasted no time moving to full-swing. Though some of them struggled a bit they all kept up and worked very hard.

That set the pace for the next few weeks. Morris graduated them from the basics into more solid theory. They devoured it eagerly and always returned hungry. He spent his off days either rehearsing with Seldon and company, studying or working on Delroy's spools.

At Rackwell's suggestion Morris began a seminar on Imperium technology and its links to modern society. Attendance was very high but these were trained professionals. At first Morris felt nervous but what they lacked he provided: an external point of view. Before long he relaxed and, for truth, learned as much as he taught.

Morris missed Kelven and the others on Dracos. When he finally grew accustomed to his schedule that comfort reminded him sharply just how far from home he was. He also missed Lydia and when that feeling grew too strong he went to the starport and watched the ships take off and land.

On several occasions one or more of the League team was called away to meet some personage or a group of them. Fortunately these occasions were rare, the League team was there to teach and not to politic, and Morris bore them with good grace.

During one such event Morris met the Tech stationed at the League embassy on Helene. Olliver Weston worked hard to attain Senior Tech certification and there he stopped. As he told Morris he was content to fill the niche he did. He volunteered for embassy duty on Halcyon and his subsequent marriage to a local lady exempted him from normal rotation. He expected to never leave Helene and that bothered him not at all. After they met he had Morris and the others over for dinner with his family, a night everyone enjoyed that ended with standing invitations to come again.

All in all Morris enjoyed his time on Helene.

# Chapter 6. Patterns

Morris stared at the two forms before him. The semester had just passed the halfway mark and Morris' class had finally worked into rigorous theory and application.

"These are drop slips," said Morris, feeling disappointed and almost betrayed.

Garrett and Eisley stood uncomfortably in front of his desk.

Morris examined them closely. Eisley was a red-haired Amazon with a fiery spirit and a solid determination to learn. Garrett, dark-tanned and quiet, was a more subdued counterpoint to her. Both of them were doing well and Morris felt they would make it. Though Garrett spoke little, when he did he obviously knew his material. Eisley knew forces, whether physical, chemical, electronic or optical and moved easily from application to the theory behind it.

"We're just not getting it, sir," said Eisley, uncomfortable but cutting directly to the point. "I'm a graduate student in Matter and Force and I've spent seven years studying energy, matter, force, chemistry and material interaction. I build and repair computers on weekends and during the summer I help my folks repair hovers and rollers and I'm just not getting this."

"Tina's right, Dr. Taylor," said Garret, as uncomfortable dropping the title as Morris was with him using it. "You've been hinting at some sort of unification between everything we've been studying and we're just not understanding what it is."

That hurt. Morris encouraged questions and all of his students readily asked them. He knew they were both bright enough and determined enough to succeed but how to convince them? He'd just taken out his stylus to sign the sheets when inspiration hit. He gathered the papers, neatened them and put them aside.

"We're having class tomorrow," said Morris. "Will you give me another week? I'll sign your slips if you still want to drop then."

Eisley and Garrett swapped glances then looked back at Morris.

"Fair enough, sir," she said. "I don't know what you can do in a week that you haven't already."

"You'll find out tomorrow."

***

Plan firmly in mind, Morris called Rackwell and canceled his seminar. He hated doing that but this problem took priority. Garrett and Eisley wouldn't wait long. As he walked Morris formulated the basics of a plan. It wouldn't be easy and harder still to gain the assistance he needed.

As usual Delroy sat in her room at the holocad. She seldom spoke to the others and usually isolated herself in her room. Fortunately for Morris this made her predictable. When he knocked and entered she looked up with considerable irritation. He didn't give her the chance to vent it.

"I have a problem, Specialist." He flipped his 'pad to the first entry. "What do our disciplines have in common?"

She opened her mouth to answer sarcastically but closed it when she looked at the 'pad.

"Sit down," she said. "This may take some time."

***

Morris walked into class with a light step.

"Good morning, class."

He took a quick read of the students. Eisley and Garrett looked skeptical. Polov intuited something amiss and Teek and Jones picked up on it.

"We're not going to study vectored flow today," said Morris. "Instead we're making a field trip. I've cleared it with your other instructors and supervisors. We'll be back sometime this afternoon."

With that Morris directed them to the hover he had waiting. A startled Rackwell made the arrangements quickly. That he could on short notice drove home to Morris just how much pull their project had. The students talked excitedly among themselves as the hover headed downtown. When asked, Rackwell knew instantly where Morris should go and even who to call for the other arrangements.

Still giving no explanations Morris took his group to a spacious third-floor balcony overlooking one of Helene's largest and busiest shopping plazas. It had an excellent view of the crowds and stores below. Perfect. Morris brought comfortable chairs and holocasters. While the students set up the former Morris carefully tended the latter.

"It has come to my attention," said Morris, "that some of you are having trouble unifying what I've been teaching. This more than anything is the key to understanding League technology."

Morris waited until he had their full attention.

"What do all branches of technology have in common? What do technology and science, technology and psychology, technology and economics and even technology and music have in common?"

Silence. Polov had the glimmer of an idea but didn't speak it.

"Patterns," said Morris. "Everything, and I mean everything, has a pattern. You knew the answer, Mister Polov. Ms. Eisley, you had a good guess.

"Humans are rational creatures. We're not nearly as random as we'd like to believe. The one thing that unifies everything is that there is a pattern. Where there is a pattern there is a metric for predictability. Whether it's an optical circuit strip or a post-Collapse three-part opera there is always a pattern."

Morris let them digest this a moment.

"Stochastic process is good as far as it goes but anything humans touch necessarily has a nonlinear and non-stochastic factor that cannot be discounted. These are the elements that give unpredictability and cause problems. These elements cannot be eliminated so it is essential to establish a firm metric or at least a boundary-analytic on them."

After a moment Polov spoke.

"So why are we here, sir?"

Morris gestured at the scene below.

"Do you mean to say we're here to look at people?" asked Eisley incredulously.

"No," said Morris calmly. "We are going to spend our time studying patterns. I see two gross patterns and half a dozen fine ones already but I've had practice. No, Ms. Eisley, we are going to study patterns in one of the most pattern-resistant yet predictable entities in existence: a large crowd of individual people. I'm holocasting them so we'll all have the same material to study. By lunch you will see demonstrated at least three solid patterns. By the time we're finished you'll see almost as many as I do. If you give me the time."

***

At first Morris met some resistance but it vanished quickly. Before long all five students raptly studied the crowds below. After he pointed out one major pattern all of them saw it and soon began spotting others. Teek even spotted one of the fine patterns. As lunchtime approached the patterns changed subtly. Morris smiled inwardly. His stomach started grumbling and he had no doubt the others' had too.

"Mister Polov," said Morris. "Would you mind getting us some lunch?"

"Of course, sir," said Polov. "What would we like?"

"No," said Morris. "Your instructions are to bring us back some lunch." He handed Polov a chit he scribed earlier. "In fact, I'm buying. I will tell you, however, there is a limit on this chit."

"But..."

Polov stopped when Morris raised a finger. With a dubious look he set to his task.

"Greg Polov," said Morris, "is a careful and deliberate person. I hope he's also a good sport because he is our next pattern."

Chuckles. Polov emerged and walked into the crowd.

"Please note his purposeful stride. Hrm... Neo-Szech. Is that his favorite?"

"No sir," said Eisley. "It's mine."

After Polov left that restaurant with a sizable purchase he walked toward another.

"Simple but filling," said Morris. "That's his."

"Yes sir."

When Polov reappeared he had a considerably larger package.

"I hope some of us like that," said Morris, "because he has enough for three or four there."

Two more stops and Polov had a considerable burden. After the first Morris sent Garrett to help him carry it all. They met outside the second and Polov transferred most of the packages. He and Garrett started back but Polov detoured to a drink vendor and emerged with a very large thermal bag. When they returned they received a small spate of applause.

"Congratulations, Mister Polov, you did well."

They portioned out the food and Polov grinned on learning of his participation.

"Am I that predictable, Dr. Taylor?"

"Only in that I knew I could count on you," said Morris.

As they ate they watched the lunch-crowd patterns. Polov returned Morris' chit.

"Out of curiosity, sir, how much was on the chit?"

"What if I told you it was a thousand halcies?"

Polov and Eisley both gasped.

"It wasn't," said Morris, "but what if it had been? What if it was only twenty? Would you have made up the difference yourself or come back for more? Think about it and tell us later. For now all of you write down what you think Greg would have done. Oh, to answer your question, Mr. Polov, I put three hundred on it. I didn't think we'd eat our way through that."

Two hours later the crowds lulled and Morris saw signs of wandering attention. They packed up the equipment, gathered their debris and headed back to the hover. There was no leftover food, of course.

Back in the classroom Morris made copies of the holospools for each student. The holocasters time-synced and indexed automatically so organizing the data took not long at all. He skipped to the most interesting part of the pattern flow, pointed out the gross patterns and started an analysis on them.

"We're done for now," he said. "For next time continue the analysis I started and be prepared to discuss it. If you like you may look outside our index points but the analysis is only necessary for the time between them. That's where we'll concentrate our efforts."

As the others left Morris motioned Garrett and Eisley to stay.

"Well?" he asked.

Again they swapped glances.

"We'll stay, sir," said Eisley. "I don't see how this can help but it's interesting, no blather."

"Fair coin," said Morris.

Delroy stood waiting when Morris walked out of the room.

"Well?" she asked, demeanor almost less icy.

"It went very well," said Morris. "Thank you."

"Good." She offered another almost-smile. "You're welcome." She walked away.

***

Morris had a pleasant surprise waiting when he returned home. As soon as he walked in he saw Mallory Harper and Tran Kody sitting and chatting with Lace, Harkin and Jackson. Then it hit him. Those two...

"Hi there."

Morris turned and swept Lydia into a years-long, wonderful, warm embrace. He held her tight and let her warmth suffuse him. They only broke their kiss when they ran out of breath and Morris took that time to drink her in with his eyes.

"I do believe it's official now," said Jackson with a grin Morris could hear.

Morris felt the heat rising to his face. He didn't let go but he felt the sudden consequence of his reaction and current position.

"I missed that," said Lydia, increasing the distance between them from one inch to two.

When Morris looked at the others he saw only smiles.

Lydia moved him toward chairs for the pair of them and he shook hands with Kody and Harper.

"Umm..." he stammered.

"Don't say it, Morris," smiled Lace. "You'd have to be a better actor than Seldon to hide it, no blather."

Morris knew he had teasing aplenty in his immediate future but he minded not at all.

They talked until time for dinner, which they had at Helene's finest restaurant. Kody, Harper and Lydia spoke of their adventures training their Halcyon counterparts on the fine art and science of the Cuttle class utility boat. After dessert the others found reasons and excuses to leave Morris and Lydia alone.

***

Lydia and Kody both appeared at rehearsal the next day. Lydia captivated the students within thirty minutes and they adopted Kody, not much older than themselves, as their mascot. Afterward Morris and Lydia had lunch at Ryan Commons along with half the ones at rehearsal, which Morris minded not at all. Afterward Lydia insisted Morris attend his seminar. She and Kody would tour the campus and amuse themselves until Morris finished. Patricia Kelley volunteered to take them which also made Morris feel good.

Morris' first foreshadowing of trouble came at his seminar. Sensitive now to flows and undercurrents he detected several schisms among those attending. One faction regarded Morris with a cool distance bordering on hostility. Another faction shared the sentiment but disapproved of its direction toward Morris. The third and smallest faction all but radiated a smug satisfaction that felt like vindication. He cut the session short and returned to Ballard Hall.

All of the civilians sat in the common room. Though she didn't speak and sat apart from the others Delroy listened attentively and made notes on her datapad.

"It's political," said Jackson when Morris recounted his experience.

"But why?" asked Lace indignantly. "We were making progress, burnit. This mission is a success by any metric the League or the Navy wants to apply. It's not costing anything but our salaries and the League's only paying half of that." She turned a sharp stare to Delroy. "Crystal?"

Delroy returned glare for glare.

"It's not a secret," said Delroy. "The coincidence indicators were low from the beginning, you just didn't want to listen."

"We're listening now," said Jackson coldly.

The ice in Jackson's voice surprised Morris and made Delroy almost-flinch.

"You have all the data I do," she said, now with equal ice. "I just know what to do with it."

With that she rose and returned to her rooms.

"So what now?" asked Morris.

"Carry on as assigned," said Jackson. "That's really all we can do. I hope you and Lydia didn't have plans, Morris. They were recalled about an hour ago."

Morris bit down on his disappointment. They had made plans. The four of them discussed what little they knew for a while then drifted off to individual pursuits. Mostly, though, they brooded.

***

Morris started his class the next day. By iron will he put his unease aside and concentrated on his presentation but his students felt something amiss. Not long into the class Rackwell knocked and entered.

"Technician Taylor." Rackwell spoke hesitantly and uncomfortably. "I'm sorry to announce that you and the others have been recalled to the League embassy." He handed Morris the order.

"What? That's ridiculous. We still have work to do."

Rackwell gave him a weary grin. "Spoken like a true professor. I am truly sorry but this is not my doing."

Morris was speechless but his students began muttering belligerently.

"Here, now," said Rackwell. "Has Doctor Taylor given you an assignment?"

"Yes sir," said Polov.

"Then I suggest you work on it. I don't mean to usurp your authority, Morris, but I firmly believe this will be resolved in short order and all of you will be back."

Back at the building Morris had come to regard as home the others had already packed. Morris had little more than he'd brought, a risqué animated paperweight for Kelven, some carved crystals for Reichsson, who collected them. Gifts for Lydia he spent a lot of time selecting. Extra class notes and some University paraphernalia...

Stop it. Morris chided himself and packed quickly and efficiently. He added his luggage to the pile in the common room.

The door beeped. Without waiting for a response Kelley and a dozen others walked in.

"We heard you're leaving," she said, distress obvious in her voice.

"We are," said Lace gently.

"But... Why?"

"We've been recalled," said Lace. "We really don't have a choice."

"That's not fair. We..." She looked at the others. "We planned on starting a League Student Society. With the five of you here..."

"Start it," said Lace. "This is probably just a temporary snag. These things happen whenever politics is involved. You really shouldn't be surprised."

"It's just... We tried to get something like this going before. This is the farthest it's ever gone and we don't want to lose it."

"Hold that thought." Lace embraced Kelley warmly. "You'll make it happen."

After a few minutes Kelley and the others left, not satisfied and certainly not happy. When they left Lace closed the door and turned, her face now reflecting the turmoil she felt.

"That," she said, lighting a strong drugstick, "does not bode well. Just who around here might know what's going on and tell us?"

That question remained unanswered until the League hover pulled up for them and their things.

***

After a silent trip to the embassy a group of Navy ratings took their luggage, asking what they needed and what could be stored and shipped later. Not a good sign. Another escorted them to a lounge overlooking the embassy grounds. On the way there Morris saw Rackwell and Leona Collins but neither caught sight of him. He and the others sat in silence, some looking out the window and others not.

The hiss of the door opening sounded unnaturally loud.

"Good morning," said Blakeschiff, showing all the emotion of discussing the weather on Metropole. "You will be wondering why you were recalled. It has nothing to do with your classes or the project. I can assure you it is an unqualified success and will be continued. A matter has arisen that necessitates your withdrawal. Our ship is being serviced and we shall leave late this evening or early tomorrow. You will be given further details as they are required. The ship will be attached to this staging unit presently. You will board when it is. Until then do not leave these rooms."

Ignoring the pair of questions Jackson and Lace asked Blakeschiff turned and left. Kody walked in not long afterward.

"Out with it, lad," said Jackson. "What happened?"

Kody shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm not at liberty to say. I will tell you, though, it is that important."

***

Morris settled into his old cabin uneasily. After his stay at the University the ship seemed strange, small and cramped. Lydia was in engineering but the main bulkhead was locked and sealed. A message on his terminal from her gave some cold comfort. The situation disturbed her too and she didn't like it any more than the rest of them. But, she wrote, circumstances did warrant their recall. They all had a duty, Navy and civilian alike, and once Blakeschiff revealed his information they would all agree. After reading the text three times Morris wandered to the ship's lounge then out into the staging unit where he found the others. By dinner Blakeschiff still hadn't appeared when trio of seamen brought them food. It wasn't particularly good but at least it wasn't synthetic.

By midmorning the next day Blakeschiff still hadn't appeared. Morris caught Lydia on the way to the admin complex.

"You know I can't say anything," she said before he could ask. "As far as the Commander, well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out there's politics involved."

Blakeschiff stayed gone until just after lunch. By the sour look on his face and his overall mien someone forced him into something disagreeable. Accompanying him were a visibly satisfied Rackwell along with Eisley, Garrett and Polov with the latter three looking apprehensive.

"We will be undertaking a minor exploratory mission," said Blakeschiff, reluctantly. "At the petition of the University and the Halcyon government Doctor Rackwell and these three students will accompany us. The students are to continue their studies. Since we are very much behind schedule we will be leaving within half an hour."

Kody scurried to make this happen. Morris, Jackson and Harkin moved to assist him. The students' luggage showed signs of hasty packing and they themselves felt every bit as nervous as Rackwell did triumphant. Polov ended up in the cabin across from Morris.

"Excuse me sir," said Polov hesitantly. "Can you tell me what's happening?"

Morris shook his head. "I don't know, Mr. Polov. You heard the commander's briefing. That's all the information we have as well. How did you three come to be here?"

Polov sat on his bunk, collected his thoughts and considered his answer.

"Yesterday afternoon Dr. Rackwell gathered all the students taking your classes. He said we might be able to continue our studies aboard ship with you and asked for volunteers. I'm sorry to say that most of them didn't want to go. Leaving Helene on a League ship with only Dr. Rack... They just didn't want to do that."

"That's understandable," said Morris. "Go on."

"The faculty was a disappointment, sir. Some of them must have known something because I've never seen such rivalry, back-stabbing and turfiness from them. It was bad, sir. Of the students that volunteered Ron, Tina and I were selected."

"Thank you, Mr. Polov." Morris checked his chrono. "We'd best hurry to the lounge. I doubt the Commander will look favorably on any delays."

Morris and Jackson helped Kody strap down the others. Eisley had never been offplanet, uncommon but not that unusual. Garrett confessed to taking several short trips but none linking for more than a week.

Once again Morris found himself seated next to Delroy who again kept her silence. As soon as Kody reported all personnel secure Blakeschiff lofted them. He started at two gravities but soon increased to two and a half. When the extra acceleration kicked in Delroy gasped sharply and grabbed Morris' hand in a crushing grasp.

"We're polar, Specialist," said Morris automatically. Then, though it felt like moving two and a half arms, he reached over and patted her hand. "We're still safer here than riding in a hover."

Whether from Morris' attempt at humor or the gradual lessening and revectoring of the drives Delroy first loosened then released her grip. She also breathed more easily. When Kody gave the all-clear Morris unstrapped himself then reached over and unstrapped Delroy. She looked down then back up at him. She started to say something then looked back down again. Morris felt the glimmerings of an idea.

"You're welcome, Specialist," he said gently.

Though she hid it he knew she almost-smiled in return.

"Attention passengers and crew." Blakeschiff sounded irritated. "Remain in your launch positions. Prepare for microjump protocol."

Eisley looked nervous at this. "Should we strap back in?"

"No ma'am," said Kody, "but you should stay seated. Micros aren't bad but they can be a little disconcerting if you're not used to... them."

Harper microjumped between Kody's last two words. Eisley jumped and yelped when the lights flickered.

"That wasn't bad," said Jackson to Eisley, "now was it?"

Eisley shook her head. "I guess I watched too many holovee shows. It really wasn't... Yow."

The ship microjumped again.

"... bad," finished Eisley sheepishly.

Polov chuckled and Eisley slapped his arm.

"Close it, Greg," she said. "Just because this is a parking orbit for you doesn't mean it's..."

The ship jumped again. This time Eisley only paused.

"... doesn't mean the rest of us feel the same way. Why are we doing so many?"

"We're clearing clutter, ma'am," said Kody. "Lieutenant Harper's going to need a really accurate fix before we link in. Gravity's a stone bastard when you're lining up a long jump even from planets, moons and asteroids so she's getting rid of all of it she can."

The ship jumped again.

"Flames," said Eisley. "How far does she have to go?"

Kody grimaced at that. He wanted to answer but very obviously did not want to reveal any of Blakeschiff's information.

"It's not about distance," said Morris. "It's about gravity. For long links and active links it's critical to minimize any gravity that doesn't come from your anchor beacon. Ms. Harper can't tell ahead of time what kind of gravitic swirls will be there after she jumps so if they're too severe she'll need to jump again."

"Attention passengers and crew," came Blakeschiff's voice. "Stand down from microjump protocol. Due to the nature of our upcoming mission we will be taking extra time for navigational vectoring. You may move around until linkspace insertion."

Everyone stood and stretched. Eisley still looked apprehensive but Polov reassured her. That gave Morris an idea.

"I have a question, Tran," said Morris. "Without revealing anything about our destination can you give us an idea of how long Ms. Harper will require for her navigational fix?"

Kody thought hard for a moment. "Yes sir. Interpolating from my experience minus the time to instruct others plus the number of waypoints modulo the absolute vector I'd place it between one and two hours. That also takes into account the Commander's skill at astrogation and his lack of patience when we're behind schedule. Why?"

In response Morris commed Lydia. Although surprised at his request she had no objection to it, which made both him and Kody smile.

"Ms. Eisley," said Morris, interrupting her conversation with Polov and Garrett. "Will the three of you come with me, please."

***

As the four of them walked toward engineering Morris pointed out access panels and repair points for various shipboard systems. Lydia was waiting when they arrived and she had chog along with extra seats dogged to the floor.

"Why are we here, sir?" asked Garrett.

"Since Ms. Eisley is nervous about linking I thought she, along with the rest of you, might enjoy being right where it happens when it happens."

Eisley swallowed hard. She looked as though she wanted anything but.

"Nervous?" asked Lydia. "Ms. Eisley, is it? I'm Lydia, dear."

"Tina."

"There is absolutely nothing to linking. The worst part about it is cleaning and servicing the unit for the first time after an incompetent engineer. Morris, we have a little time before we link, why don't you and I show them engineering?"

"Wonderful," he said, before the students could speak. "I do believe they will love it."

Lydia smiled and produced three datapads.

"I've outlined the preflighting procedure," she said, "and connected in to active monitor. That's if you want to watch what happens as it happens."

Lydia's terminal beeped and several devices responded.

"What's happening?" asked Morris. "Mister Garrett?"

"Ahh..." Garret consulted the 'pad. "Umm... Jump capacitors charging?"

"Are you certain?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Chief engineer?" asked Morris.

"Pre-charge activation," said Lydia without breaking stride. "Whyfor?"

"It's necessary," said Eisley with a hard look to her 'pad. "In order to... prepare the capacitors to take the necessary charge to thrust the ship into linkspace."

"And if the capacitors malfunction?"

"That's bad," said Garrett with an attempt to redeem himself. "The link drive works in conjunction with the thalyssium hull grid. If either the drive unit or the grid doesn't have exactly the right amount and type of power it could rut up the drives."

"Define rut up please," said Morris. "Mister Polov."

Polov cringed. "The hull grid is carefully calibrated to the exact volume of the ship, sir. If the entire grid doesn't receive exact power levels at the time of link insertion it could result in distortion of the link aperture."

"Meaning," prompted Morris.

"Meaning error in the jump vectors," said Polov, furiously reading. "Meaning the ship would go drastically off course or even misjump."

"Meaning possible error in the phase sync," said Eisley. "Which would... Which could result in indeterminate emergence location. Umm... No telling what kind of deviation from the projected exit point would... result."

"Phase synchronization error," said Garrett, "resulting in not knowing how deep in link you really are. Too deep and any non-hardened ship systems would start torquing out. Umm... Sir and ma'am, what systems aren't hardened on this ship?"

"All critical systems are, Ron," said Lydia humorously. "But I wouldn't worry about it too terribly much. Can you tell me why?"

"Lots of safety features?" Polov looked more hopeful than uncertain.

Garrett began working his 'pad. "One major safety, Greg. The thalyssium grid on all League and Halcyon ships includes a crystalline iridium alloy sheath. As long as it's below fifteen-C it maintains a state of superconductivity. That distributes the power evenly and quickly."

"One even better," said Eisley. "The power travels through the grid back into the phase field coils on the insertion drive. If the grid fails the drive won't activate and the link fails." She looked at Lydia. "That makes me feel a lot better, ma'am."

Lydia winked at Morris and smiled. "You're welcome."

The console beeped again and more readouts changed. Morris looked at Polov.

"Capacitor charge has begun," said Polov, more certain now. "The pilot is trickling in power and will increase the flow less than exponentially. The longer the charge time the deeper the link. It says here the caps are rated at 150% of the jump level of the ship. Umm... Why?"

"Safety again," said Lydia. "Sorry Morris. This is where link theory gets ruddy narsty. The L-drive itself has an overpower shunt with a failsafe trigger. The ideal power for a good jump is between five and ten percent over what the basic jump requires.

"The initial surge puts us a little bit deeper in link for a few seconds. That's long enough for the scanners to stabilize and get a solid fix. The power decay curve is exponential and smooth so the fix stays deeper than the link itself."

"Making the link more stable than the jump?" asked Polov.

"Exactly," said Lydia. "It's like driving a hoverbus on instruments only but having a hovercycle full of scanners a few dozen meters ahead of you."

Eisley looked troubled over Lydia's explanation.

"It's a good thing, Tina," said Garrett. "Just trust that."

Eisley finally calmed down, whether from Lydia's reassurance or the data on her 'pad. The capacitors started charging faster as Harper or Blakeschiff locked in navigational data.

"Thirty percent," said Lydia. "We usually link between forty and fifty-five."

The charge settled to a steady flow at thirty-three percent. At forty quite a few indicators changed and Blakeschiff's voice sounded.

"All personnel to departure stations. Prepare for link protocol."

"Engineering," reported Lydia. "Jump capacitors at forty-three percent and charging. Link drive is pre-active."

"Bridge confirm," replied Harper. "Begin link drive synchronization."

While the capacitors continued to charge Lydia fed low power into the hull grid.

"Engineering. Hull grid is responsive. Drive linkage is confirmed. Thermal parameters are nominal."

"Bridge aye. Prepare for link sync pulses on my mark. Mark."

"Engineering aye. Timing signal locked, synchronization handshaking begins."

"Bridge aye."

Morris and the others kept quiet during this. He knew Blakeschiff knew they were there and he didn't object. Morris would give him no reason to regret it.

"Engineering. Drive linkage to navigation confirmed five-by."

"Bridge aye. Lock and hold."

"Engineering aye." Lydia looked puzzled at this. She keyed in the appropriate commands.

Eisley grunted when the lights went out and the emergency reds came on.

"We're fine, Ms. Eisley," said Morris softly. "This is a safety precaution. If power to the lights fails or surges it won't blind us here."

"It also tends to sharpen the senses," added Lydia offhandedly.

The capacitors hit and passed sixty percent with no sign of slowing.

"Engineering. Capacitors at sixty-two and still charging."

"Bridge aye," replied Blakeschiff. "Hold steady, Chief Engineer."

"Engineering, aye sir."

"Is this unusual," whispered Polov, so softly Morris could barely hear.

"Yes," answered Lydia. "Unusual but not concerning. It just means we're planning a long link. Higher power means we're going deeper in. The extra time should also cut down on jitter at the other end." She made a shushing motion and activated the comm. "Engineering. Capacitors at seventy-one and charging."

"Bridge aye." Blakeschiff. "Continue to hold, Chief Engineer."

When the capacitors passed seventy-eight Lydia scowled, furrowing her brow.

"Engineering," she said. "Capacitors at seventy-eight and charging. Thermal parameters within tolerance intervals but not nominal."

"Bridge aye," replied Harper. "It won't be long now."

As the capacitors continued to charge Lydia engaged thermal dampers for the hull grid. It still lay below the temperature needed to maintain superconductivity but it had risen past its nominal levels. More readouts activated at seventy-eight percent and the charging slowed.

"Engineering. Capacitors at eighty-one and holding."

"Bridge aye. Prepare to initiate link insertion."

Lydia keyed in several sequences. "Engineering aye. Link drive is initialized and synchronized. Threshold is active. All safety systems are engaged."

"Bridge aye," said Blakeschiff. "Initiating link on pilot's count."

"Twenty seconds," said Harper. "Ten. Five. Two... One... Engage."

The hull clanged and popped as the capacitors discharged through the thalyssium grid. Several panels lit up and data flowed across the 'pads as the charge hit the L-drive and thrust the small ship into linkspace. Morris felt a moment of discomfort as the ship departed reality but it passed quickly.

Not so the others. Polov grunted and Eisley cried out and fought the straps. Even as the reds died and the regular lights came on Morris unstrapped, rushed to her and began releasing her.

Morris thumbed his comm. "Medic to engineering. Medic to engineering, crash orange."

Released from the restraints Eisley bent double, grabbed her stomach and slid forward out of the seat. Morris grabbed one arm and Garrett the other.

"Ms. Eisley," said Morris. "Can you speak?"

Eisley moaned something like words. Lydia appeared with an ampule and popped it under Eisley's nose.

"Easy, Tina," said Lydia.

"Don't worry, Tina," said Garrett. "It gets easier after the first time."

Eisley retched but nothing came up.

"Stand up, hon," said Garrett. "Try to stand up. It'll help, trust me."

Eisley unbent herself a little but didn't come close to standing. Her breath came in short sharp gasps and she looked pale. After what seemed years Jackson arrived with a stretcher and a kit. The big man looked none to good himself but did not let that deter him.

"Just relax, Tina," he said reassuringly. "Loosen up and let us do the work. Just lay back on the stretcher."

When Eisley complied Morris noticed she'd bitten her lip. Hard.

"What happened?" asked Jackson.

Lydia and Morris told him quickly.

"Hm. Popped a virgin, did we? Are you pregnant?"

"Hades no." Eisley managed those words with some force. "Why?"

Jackson drew a hypo in response. "Because I'd have to charge double for this if you were."

Before she could respond he administered the dose and followed it with two more. Then he activated the stretcher and he and Garrett pushed her toward sickbay. Morris turned to Polov.

"Do you need to go, Mr. Polov?"

"No sir," said Polov gamely. "I just don't like deep jumps or active links."

Morris glanced at Lydia. "In that case, Mr. Polov, let's go to the lounge. I think Chief Engineer Keyson has some work to do."

As he guided Polov toward the bulkhead Lydia caught Morris' eye and stuck out her tongue at him.

***

In the lounge Kody and Harkin sat uncomfortably while Rackwell, Lace and Delroy sat in misery.

"What... happened?" asked Rackwell.

"Deep link," said Morris. "The which means we'll probably be in link a long time. That's why the commander took so long lining us up."

"It six-sigma reeks," said Lace testily. "No blather. Do you know how many waypoints we'll be hitting?"

Morris shook his head. "No but I'll take a guess. We won't have very many. Since we took so long calculating the nav fix the Commander will plot as straight a course as he can to minimize jitter."

"I hope so," said Rackwell. "I've been on more than a few extrasystem voyages and this is the deepest I've ever linked."

Garrett walked into the room, pulled chog and sat to enjoy it. Lace scowled at him but half-heartedly at best. Not long afterward Eisley walked in followed by Jackson. Eisley sat gingerly while Jackson grabbed chog for both of them.

"Cramps?" asked Lace. She took out a pack of 'sticks, lit one and slid them toward Eisley.

"From hades," said Eisley, lighting a 'stick of her own.

"You don't smoke, Tina," said Polov.

Eisley looked heavily back at him. "I do now. That was rough, Doctor Taylor, six sigmas on the beam."

"It does get easier," repeated Garrett.

"That's true," said Morris. "You'll also acclimate quickly. I will admit, though, that was a deeper link than usual. Most of the time they're not nearly that bad."

Eisley and Lace merely stared at that and said nothing.

# Chapter 7. An Eventful Trip

Morris and the rest spent some time unpacking into their cabins and settling in. He did manage a quick trip to engineering. Though glad to see him Lydia had things well in hand. They shared a too-short warm moment before she shooed him away.

"I've got things, my dear, and you have students to attend. They need you more than I do and I'm willing to share." Then with mischief, "For now."

Dinner was a subdued affair. Rackwell did not put in an appearance and Harper conversed with Lydia in low whispers. Kody appeared only long enough to eat then excused himself with a smile. After the meal Polov voiced a concern that, by their expressions, Eisley and Garrett shared.

"Are we going to be working all day and night now, sir? Since we are in link?"

"Unfortunately not, Mister Polov," said Morris. "Since we are aboard a relatively small vessel I'll be sharing resources and facilities as well as students. Also, I do believe your other instructors will keep me in hand."

Chuckles. Lace began forming a massive game of two-across. While she and Garrett made the preparations Polov approached Morris uneasily.

"I was wondering, sir, is there a pattern to this?"

The question caught Morris by surprise. He paused a moment to think hard.

"Yes, Mr. Polov, I'm certain there is. I don't know it though. Yet."

"Morris, Greg," said Lace. "Sit. Since you two are the last in you can partner."

After the first game Lace declared that never again would Morris and Polov partner. They won handily and brutally. Just before the end Garrett spotted the pattern Morris and Polov set up but not in time to prevent defeat. The next game Morris partnered with Eisley and Polov spotted the pattern almost as soon as Morris set it. That served Morris' purpose well. All three of the students started developing patterns and searching hard for others'.

Delroy spent her evening at the holocad. Occasionally she had words and a softer expression for the students but mostly she stayed cool and distant. When the others called it an early evening Morris lingered long enough to draw a bulb of juice.

"Specialist."

"What."

The terminal contained groups of equations Morris didn't recognize.

"I want to talk about our mission."

"What about it?"

"What's the pattern?"

She looked up momentarily, then back down.

"What makes you think there's a pattern?"

"You've said as much already. That plus you are far too professional to behave this way for any ordinary mission."

That stung. She stiffened slightly and Morris saw her clench her teeth.

"The facts are there, Technician. Analyze them."

With that she focused her full attention on the holocad, effectively slamming down a wall between them.

***

After breakfast the next day most of the team worked on scheduling. At breakfast Blakeschiff appeared long enough to grab some food and announce they'd be around ten days in link. That was an amazingly-long voyage to an unspecified destination but the rest accepted it. Rackwell wanted no time wasted in starting educating his students.

They had times and subjects roughed out when Blakeschiff and the entire crew appeared for lunch. Lace, in good humor now, vociferously assured the three students multiple times that she wouldn't let Morris work them totally to exhaustion.

Morris felt his curiosity rising as they ate. Having all crew gathered with none at station violated several protocols. Never mind that they couldn't do much nor that it would take very little time if something did go awry. Violating protocol simply did not fit Blakeschiff and that bothered more than just Morris.

After lunch Blakeschiff continued his uncharacteristic behavior by producing a dataspool and inserting it into the room's holovee. It cleared to a star system with several planets and some asteroid belts. He tapped in a release code and the scientific data about the star and the positional data on the planets and asteroids appeared.

"This is star system 9A-C-F37A, named Dustball by the Halcyon survey team. It has a G2 primary with six planets the second of which is in the star's habitable zone. It is marginally inhabitable with an atmosphere containing uncomfortably high levels of certain toxic trace elements and gasses." He switched to a closer view of the second planet which rotated and zoomed in. "A routine min-met scan revealed this."

Morris felt a thrill of excitement. Most of the area showed exactly what any average planet would but the center of the display showed something different. A routine mineral-metal scan would reveal nothing other than presence and approximate composition. Even a surface-penetration scan might miss this. Only a meticulous, probing deep-scan with AI interpretation would reveal what Morris suspected.

"There is almost a sixty-five percent probability that this is an undiscovered Imperium base," said Blakeschiff. He activated the enhancement overlays and AI projections. The basic heuristics gave the likelihood as 64.397% but for some Imperium sites this would indicate virtual certainty.

"The primary scans matched the layout of an advance base or concealed research facility. Historical analysis of Imperial activity in this area posits three points of presence. The Coral Nebula Depot was one. The other two, while likely, were never found. League and Halcyon historians attribute this to their being stripped or destroyed during the Collapse or Interim."

Blakeschiff powered down the holovee.

"Our mission is to conduct a prepositioning investigation of this site." He paused for emphasis. "We are not the primary investigation team. Our mission is basic survey, site survey, site verification and initial expedition base construction. I have specific spools prepared. Read them and I will answer any questions you have.

"Lieutenants Harper and Keyson, please return to your stations."

Silence. Silence until Blakeschiff left then pandemonium. Excitement washed through everyone then reverberated twofold. This was unprecedented. Imperium sites were as rare as... Imperium sites. They were...

Morris caught that thought and held it firmly. Imperium site investigation typically involved hundreds of specialists and years of work but only after the initial surveys deemed it safe. The First Look team mapped the location of the site, chose the location for the base camp and verified that neither posed any measurable threat to the safety of those to follow. They would determine the necessary supplies, logistical requirements, protective measures and the thousand other details the dedicated scientists might forget.

"This is incredible," said Lace, eyes glowing. "I wonder if we'll be on the follow-up team."

"Play the game right," said Jackson, "and you will."

Morris noticed that Rackwell, while no less excited, radiated smugness. Polov sat quietly with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Mister Polov," said Morris. "You look as though you have something on your mind."

"This..." Polov took a moment to gain his composure. "This is what I want to do, sir. With my life, I mean. It's what I've been studying and learning."

Rackwell clapped him on the shoulder.

"Just think of the experience, Greg. Think of the prestige you'll gain. Learn well and you'll be indispensable on subsequent expeditions. Careers have been made from less."

After the initial excitement calmed most of them began devouring Blakeschiff's spools. Even though the man's communication skills had not improved Morris had no difficulty at all keeping himself focused.

***

Dinner conversation revolved around the site. Every monitor within the room contained some aspect of preliminary data. The main screen showed the location of the site and the area surrounding it. All of them agreed that it was not a well-developed travel hub, a strongpoint, otherwise there would be some record of it. With its location it should have been a commercial hub which meant it was built late into the Imperium, possibly even during the Collapse or that it was a secret scientific research station. That particular debate lasted past dessert.

Curiosity aroused, Morris powered up a terminal and began running queries. Along with the spools Blakeschiff also released the database the ship had carried sealed: it contained as much data on the Imperium as Blakeschiff could cram into the cores. Morris found what he wanted easily.

Since early in its existence the Imperium established a very efficient pattern of stellar conquest. Working from an established strongpoint probe ships jumped out to the limit of their hyperdrives. From there the probe ship, usually a large carrier, dispatched scouts to scour the nearby systems for the most inhabitable and comfortable worlds they could find. Upon selection of the best candidate the carrier then jumped to that system and began analyzing its star.

Meanwhile other vessels landed on the selected planet and established a beachhead. Once the carrier completed the star's navigational profile it jumped back and a construction fleet followed. Within months the Imperium had a new strongpoint and hub for the other systems surrounding it. Should an emergency arise the network of strongpoints became chokepoints to contain the catastrophe. The system worked quite well and several established governments outside the League still used it. At least they tried.

By the time Morris finished he and Delroy had the room to themselves. She had a Racefort diagram on her display again. When she felt Morris' eyes she cleared the display and looked up at him. Just as well. From what Morris saw any process or machine matching that particular diagram simply would not, could not, function. Such flawed tolerance peaks must certainly indicate an erroneous base state coupled with multiple incorrect metrics and correlation matrices.

"Good night, Specialist."

She turned her attention back to her display and dismissed him silently.

***

The next morning everyone scrapped the study schedules they so carefully crafted the day before. Morris formed in the group with Polov, Rackwell and Jackson to plan how best to conduct the survey and plan the expedition base. Blakeschiff had a good topographic map of the areas surrounding the suspected site with water sources and potential obstacles marked. They also had the ship's holds full of exploration gear courtesy, Morris assumed, of Blakeschiff.

Of all the people aboard Polov was well and truly in his native element. While he enjoyed the conjecture and speculation he focused like a laser cannon on site selection for the base camp and its preparation. For all the experience he claimed to lack he did an outstanding job with structuring the base and calculating resource needs, all with an eye toward the follow-up missions. While Rackwell had the most experience on archaeological expeditions Polov's parents made their career by outfitting them and he often considered details Rackwell missed. On the rare occasion when Polov miscalculated he took careful notes on what happened and worked equally meticulously to not let it happen again.

***

A few days later Morris finally made it to engineering alone. Lydia greeted him with a quick, warm kiss.

"Because I missed you, silly," she said.

"I'm, umm..."

"You've been busy preparing for our wonderful mission," she smiled. "You're probably going to be the hardest worker there, I hope you realize that. I certainly don't envy you." She winked. "But if you're here for a while I think I can find something else to occupy your time."

"Permalube and a safety harness?"

"Beast," she laughed. "Help me calibrate the engines."

Morris laughed as he complied. Thruster calibration, especially while in link, required a lot more time than actual effort and they spent much of that waiting. They grabbed a quick bite of lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon in non-labor-intensive work. Afterward they had dinner in her office where, warm and content and with his arms full of Lydia, Morris fell asleep.

"Oh the perfidy of men," she said softly. Then, when he woke she repeated it a bit louder.

Morris started to stammer something even he didn't understand but she shushed him quickly, effectively and very pleasantly.

"Apology accepted," she said. "I think someone needs to go to bed." Then. "Alone, you lecherous beast. Walk me to your room and you can blush in privacy."

Morris complied and enjoyed the forever-long and happy good-night she gave him.

One hot shower later Morris noticed his terminal flashing a query. When he released it it popped open a message box.

'Good evening Technician.'

'Good evening, Specialist,' replied Morris.

'What makes you think it's Delroy?'

'No one else is up, Specialist.'

'Have you been studying your information theory?'

'As I've had time. Not much of that to spare lately.'

'What do you think of the mission now?'

'It's exciting. I'm excited. We'll be the First Look team, the first one in since the Collapse. We'll be working with Imperium technology in its pristine state. Who wouldn't be excited?'

A graphic box containing a simplified Racefort diagram opened on Morris' screen.

'What do you think of this?'

He studied the thing. For a machine it absolutely would not work but it might for a computer program.

'That's not from any functional machine.'

'Why so?'

Morris highlighted three of the worst peaks. 'These.'

'What about them?'

'In mechanical analysis we call these tolerance peaks. That's a summative measure of likelihood of failure over two or more measurable quantities which may be independent or interrel...'

'I know that,' she interrupted.

'Well, depending on your scaling those peaks represent tolerance seven to tolerance nine. Nothing can function for long under that kind of stress.'

'So you're saying this isn't viable.'

'Not in a machine. Why? What are your criteria and what kind of metric are you using?'

No answer.

'Specialist?'

The graphic and message boxes disappeared and the external connection terminated. Morris considered walking to the lounge and asking in person but decided against it. He privacy-locked his machine and went to bed.

***

Morris noticed something the next morning. Whenever Blakeschiff and Rackwell occupied the same room tension built between them. The others seemed oblivious and Morris saw no reason to enlighten them. He made a mental note not to work with both of them together.

Midafternoon Morris' group finished their plans. They had five optimals for where the base camp should go. Once they analyzed and set the parameters it took the computer all of five minutes to generate them. Now it came down to picking one. With a glance to the others Polov chose one.

"Why that one, Greg?" asked Rackwell.

"I like it, sir," said Polov. "There's ample room for a landing pad, good terrain to land the ship and the mountains and hills should prevent any really bad linear weather. The base-to-water and base-to-dig distances are good, too."

"Not my first choice but certainly my second," said Rackwell. "Good job, Greg."

"I agree," said Jackson.

"Make it unanimous," said Morris. "I'll also second that 'Good job.'"

With nothing to do planning-wise Morris wandered down to engineering.

"Hi," said Lydia. "Are you done or just skipping work?"

"Finished for now. We can't really start something new until the others finish so I have some time. Besides, that's all mental work. I want to do something. With my hands." He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

"Heaven's flames, I've created a monster," she said. "Very well, sir, in the interest of protecting an innocent populace I suppose I can find you something to do. With your hands."

She had just started servicing the backup power systems when Morris arrived. With him helping the work went a lot faster. She checked the readout automatically and started to log it then stopped.

"That's odd," she said.

Morris examined the readout.

"There's a variance in the redundant coupling," she said. "Feces. Were you in there?"

"Not since the last time we checked it."

"Before we landed on Helene. Feces squared. Having seen it I have to log it."

"Blakeschiff?"

"Maybe he's not on duty. Mallory will just log it." She sighed and reached for the comm. "Bridge, engineering."

"Blakeschiff."

Lydia made an incredibly sour face.

"Keyson. I need to log a minor variance in the secondary redundant power system coupling."

There was a pause before Blakeschiff responded. "I've taken station at the engineering terminal. Can you fix it?"

"Aye sir. Technician Taylor is working with me."

"Very well, chief engineer. You may begin investigation and repair. I will log the incident and maintain station here."

"Aye sir. Engineering out." She cut the comm. "Damn that man. You better be ready to give me one double-plus-good back massage, m'dear. He won't be happy until that variance is zero."

"Aye sir," grinned Morris. "Do you want me on the board or in the tube?"

"Board. You're faster on it than I am and if anyone but me touches that coupling the Commander won't be happy."

Morris strapped down at the board and pulled up the necessary systems. Lydia donned a safety suit, removed an access panel and wriggled inside which Morris enjoyed watching.

"Comm check," said Lydia. "Testing."

"Comm check nominal."

Lydia wriggled completely out of sight.

"Secondary main looks fine. Isolate nodes... Isolate nodes seventeen-alpha through twenty-echo."

"Isolating," said Morris. "Grounding now. Give it a few seconds."

"No blather. Hey. This is really strange. The panel seems to have..."

A sudden actinic flash blinded Morris. Klaxons screamed as the lights died. The control board went chaotic as it reported no less than a dozen emergency events. Blinking his eyes into focus Morris started working the console even before his vision cleared.

Drive fluctuation, bioreactor media, bioreactor seal compromise, hull breach, capacitor fluctuation. Morris worked with inhuman speed to stabilize the power systems and keep the ship together. Components sparked and shorted throughout the chamber filling it with acrid smoke. When the hull breach alarm reached critical he stopped long enough to shed his toolbelt, slip into an EVAC and back into his belt. Now sealed and pressure-stable Morris pulled power from all nonessential systems and cut the fusion chamber to fifty percent. The starchamber itself now showed a minor instability. He started the hot regen and repair cycle and isolated the L-drive and hull grid from the rest of the systems.

Fortunately the linkdrive systems escaped the event and still showed optimal. Acting as an immense fuse the thruster array shorted and protected the thalyssium grid and coils. He switched it into isolation-protected mode and took it completely off all power networks. The lights dimmed and darkened as Morris pulled power from lighting. The emergency reds activated and Morris trimmed the fusion chamber further.

Not wasting time to swear Morris switched life support to battery power and isolated it. Engineering and the other pressure-segments hard-sealed. Morris hoped the others were in vacc suits or EVACs by now. And strapped down.

He pulled power from the internal gravity pads. His body lightened and floated up against the straps as the last major power drain vanished. Morris isolated them as well and trimmed the chamber to the bare minimum required to keep it active.

"Bridge to engineering. Report now." The voice belonged to Harper and Morris realized he'd been ignoring it.

"Taylor. Major incident report. Initial read is a massive power surge along the primary main power network. Link drive, life support and fusion plant are active and functional. Power pulled from all nonessential systems. The fusion chamber appears stable." Morris' suit still hung loose but that meant little. "Negative report on the hull breach."

"Status confirmed. Are we stable?"

"Aye ma'am." As he spoke an icy realization washed through Morris.

Since the initial event Lydia had not spoken a word.

"Engineer Keyson?"

The words froze Morris' throat. "Unknown, ma'am."

"Medical team en route. Do what you can, Morris."

Morris did. League fusion plants were built to self-stabilize. The smartsystem controlling this one knew it had sustained severe damage and it worked to attain equilibrium. With no confirmation of hull breach Morris started running pressure checks. The individual scans reported full pressure with no variation. He started isolating segments of the power and control networks he isolated earlier. Anything strong enough to surge now would vaporize the ship. Not a comforting thought.

Morris jumped when the main bulkhead popped open. Kody, Jackson and Harkin floated in.

"Where is she?" asked Jackson.

Morris pointed. Jackson looked and, amazingly, wormed his way through the access panel, vacc suit and all. Kody floated to Morris' station.

"I can manage this, Tech. Go to sickbay."

Exactly what Morris wanted to do. A frozen hand on his spine held him in place.

"Negative, Mister Kody. I'm needed here."

Kody shook his head. "Sir, if we're not dead now we'll stay that way. Go."

"No, Midshipman, I..."

The words choked Morris as Jackson gently pulled Lydia's unresisting body out of the access. He saw little past the charred remains of her safe-suit. Kody gripped his shoulder.

"Morris. Go."

"N-no. I can't leave."

Jackson administered a pair of hypos. He strapped her to a stretcher and he and Harkin flew toward sickbay.

"Engineering, bridge." The voice belonged to Harper. "Report to sickbay, Technician. That is an order."

Morris didn't feel Kody unstrapping him. He only felt a cold, hard emptiness. Woodenly he half-swam to sickbay. Lace sat outside the operating theatre, loosely strapped into a chair. She looked uncomfortable but when she spied him...

"Steady, Morris."

He felt a gentle hand squeeze his. When he looked up he saw Lace's eyes, soft and full of sympathy.

"She'll be fine, no blather," said Lace. "Jared's a ruddy good medic."

Morris knew better. Whatever happened breached an insulated safety-suit designed to resist it. As to what lay inside...

The exam table drew Morris' attention. Something, someone, lay there with a sheet strapped over him. Or her. A colder shock shook Morris.

"Blakeschiff," said Lace softly. "Whatever hit Ly... engineering got the bridge too. Jared had to pop him into stasis. He'll live, Morris. He'll live and so will Lydia."

***

The cold void within Morris spread into a cold numbness. He heard Lace talking to someone but the words simply didn't register. He saw Jackson working through the large window into the operating room. Wafted by an errant motion Lydia's suit drifted behind Jackson and past the window. Both arms, most of the torso and part of the attachment collar were charred. In places it had even vaporized. Setting aside the hellish amperage that arced through her Lydia had probably inhaled the vaporized insulation and suit material. That told Morris the story. With that much damage no stasis drug would work.

After an eternity Jackson emerged from the room. When he caught Morris' eye he shook his head.

"She's alive now, Morris, but she won't last long."

Jackson motioned Morris toward the room. No one followed him in. Lydia lay encased in the autodoc with her eyes barely cracked. When Morris drew close they opened a little wider.

"Morris."

Her voice was a hoarse, raspy whisper. She moved her heavily-bandaged hand slightly and as gently as he could Morris took it and held it.

"We... were... have... good... times."

"We will. We still will." Whether Morris spoke for himself or her, she knew better.

"Don't for... forg..."

"I'll never forget you," he whispered.

"... what... learned." Her lips formed a brief smile.

"Find... some... one..."

"I have you, Lydia. I'll always have you."

"Pro... mise..."

Unable to speak, unable to do anything but what she asked he finally managed a whisper.

"I promise."

Blinking back the tears in his eyes Morris leaned over and touched his lips to hers. Then, slowly, the light and warmth that was Lydia dimmed.

"No. Noooooooo....." Cold hard sobs began wracking Morris. His raw denial turned inside as his voice faded. Then, a single sound in a universe of silence, a hypo hissed.

Harper conducted the funeral service the next day. Morris fought against the drugged apathy suffusing him. Tears streamed down his face but he felt nothing past the cold, barren grief that held him. He could not voice it. He could not contain it.

"... and so we commit her body to the vastness of space..."

Morris fought to remember. Lydia, when she thought he would order her out of engineering. When she first touched him.

"... until the day..."

Lydia by moonlight telling him to hold her. To kiss her. The night she returned to the University and the rehearsals with her.

"... earth to earth..."

Harper's voice wavered but still she spoke. Lydia spoke. Of the things she had yet to teach him. Of her leave and how she planned to spend it.

"... ashes to ashes..."

Of the promise she drew from him. The promise he didn't want to give but could not hold back.

"... dust to dust. Amen."

The 'lock containing the sealed tube, containing Lydia, closed with an impersonal clank. Morris fought. Indifferent as only a machine could be the 'lock cycled and opened empty. Morris fought to feel, to deal with his grief.

Harper and others spoke words that Morris didn't hear. The airlock stood, open and empty and mocking him. Finally the others left. Morris stood and fought. The apathy finally lifted and he seized his grief and fought it down. He allowed himself one brief strangled sob of defiance before turning to leave.

Lace stood before him, blocking his path.

"Where do you plan on going?" she asked, voice soft but with steel behind it.

"Engineering, Ms. Lace. Midshipman Kody will need my assistance."

"No."

"The ship..."

"The ship can wait. You can't. She was our friend too, Morris, but she was more to you. We all know that. You can't try to hold that inside."

Morris fought to maintain his control. Almost, almost Lace cracked his resolve but he held it firm.

"The fusion chamber is damaged," he managed to say, finally. "I must... I..."

Warm arms enfolded Morris and held him. That burst his dam before he could build it. He cried. He finally allowed his grief to take him, hold him, ravage him and pass from him. Lace held him steady with soft words of comfort. She held him steady until he finished, pale and shaken.

"You needed that, I think," she said. "You may need it again."

"Thank you." Barely a whisper.

Soft lips touching his forehead.

"You're quite welcome. Everyone needs friends, Morris. Don't ever, ever forget that." She smiled at him. "When you need one you know where I am."

Morris nodded.

"Feel better?"

"A little."

"Polar. Jared wants you to rest." She interrupted as he shook his head. "No, Morris, you will rest. That's something else you need. We're fine, the ship is fine and you will be soon."

Jackson waited in Morris' room with a hypo. He and Lace stayed until the sedative took hold.

# Chapter 8. Finding Problems...

Morris woke with the bleakness still in him. Jena's kind words and kinder actions helped take off the edge but he still felt it, a grievous loss. Something else nagged him as he rose and showered. Realization dawned when the last of the water swirled down the drain. Gravity. Someone activated the gravity pads while he slept.

Morris dressed quickly and hurried to find Blakeschiff. No, Harper. He found her in the commander's office.

"Good morning, Technician." Harper examined him closely. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm well, ma'am. It still hurts..."

"To be expected," interrupted Harper, nodding. "If you need anything..."

"Ma'am," interrupted Morris. "Pardon me but that is not my primary concern. You activated the gravity. From what I saw in the starchamber that is not a good idea."

"Midshipman Kody is tending things, Technician."

That stopped Morris.

"While you were out he initiated the emergency power protocols. The ones Techs designed and the Guild approved. He compartmented the systems you isolated and he is checking the network."

Morris considered this. The protocols were idiot-proof but abysmally slow and Kody could not have had much experience in engineering.

"Ms. Harper, I would like to assist Mr. Kody in..."

"No." She spoke the word with finality.

"May I ask why?"

"You may ask." Her tone indicated she wouldn't tell him.

Morris studied her as closely as she scrutinized him earlier. Though she radiated confidence and command a small thread of uncertainty ran beneath both. Something deeper troubled her as well.

"Ms. Harper..."

"No, Technician." She sighed. "Morris, I appreciate that you want to help but there are other issues here." Her steel wavered a little. "I realize we're shorthanded but the ship is stable."

"I can repair it," said Morris.

"And?" By her mien Harper would wait until the universe collapsed for an answer.

"I want to find out what killed Lydia." Those words cost Morris. A wave of grief swept over him again.

"I thought so," she said. "That's my primary concern, Morris. I want you in engineering but I don't see how, given the circumstances, I can put you there."

Morris had a response for this.

"Ms. Harper. Lydia was... was a good engineer. She was an excellent technician and she would not have made a c-careless mistake. I want to find out what... what killed her."

"I understand that, Morris. That isn't my concern here."

"Then what is?"

Harper spoke reluctantly. "You are."

That stopped him cold. "What do you mean?"

Harper shook her head. Then, when she realized he'd wait as long as she would she spoke.

"You will have this out, then. Very well, Technician. I am concerned about your current mental state."

Morris stared at her, nonplussed. A cold anger formed within him and spread.

"How so, Lieutenant?" he asked, emphasizing her title.

She didn't flinch. "I read your bio, Morris. Until now you've never had a relationship much less a serious one. Now, on this mission, you have your first such with our Chief Engineer. Now, on a mission with potentially serious political, diplomatic and scientific repercussions that same Chief Engineer suffers a fatal accident. You were the only person there when the event happened. Couple these two facts together and tell me what conclusion you draw."

"Commander," said Morris coldly, voice void of all emotion, "if you are questioning my loyalty to the League or the Guild or my professionalism you'd best activate the official log and prepare to record."

Though shaken by his words she didn't back down.

"Not so fast, Morris. By your own words Lieutenant Keyson was good at her job. How can I be certain the same thing won't happen to you? How can I be certain that you won't do something worse? By accident, of course, but grief and loss can have profound effects."

Those words hurt and she had a valid point. Those same points would work against her, though. Morris planned his words carefully.

"In the first place, Commander, knowing that something happened I shall take exceptional and extra precautions. Secondly, by acknowledging the danger to me, a trained and certified Tech, you have placed Midshipman Kody into grave danger without appropriate preparation or backup. Finally, by doing so and by refusing my offer of help you have jeopardized this mission. Please activate the official log now.

"Reference League Navy Protocol EP-22109. By article seventeen, section nine, subsection G4 of the referenced protocol and dealing with Naval vessels under weigh, paragraph 19 states: 'Any Guild-certified Technician is ex officio qualified to stand in as ship's engineer, damage control, machinist...' etcetera 'until such time as qualified replacement personnel may be taken on board.' Paragraph 31: 'in any emergency defined as...' this qualifies under at least three conditions ' any and all Guild-certified Technicians are required... ' note required, 'to serve in any and all capacities stated previously until such time as emergency conditions are no longer in effect.'

"Lieutenant Harper I am a Guild Technician certified at Senior Master level." Morris gave his cert code. "Per the articles stated and per the requirement stated I am standing in as Chief Engineer."

Harper made no move toward the holocaster.

"She was my friend too, Morris..."

"Commander." Morris allowed no warmth in his voice. "I will not deny that Lydia's death hurts like hades itself. My concern is the continued safety of those who are still alive. Whatever killed her should not have. I intend to find out exactly what that was and prevent its happening again. In this endeavor I shall keep my personal life on my personal time." Though the words cost him he spoke only the truth.

Harper examined him critically and nodded slightly.

"Welcome back, Morris." Then into the comm. "Midshipman Kody, Mister Jackson, to the commander's office please."

The two called arrived in short order.

"Gentlemen, please stand in witness."

Now Harper did activate the official log 'caster. She stated her service code and had the other two do the same.

"Raise your right hand, Technician Taylor. As commander of this vessel and in accordance to League Navy General Statutes, Article 21, Section 9, paragraph 1 I do hereby emplace you as Chief Engineer until such time as you are officially relieved of this duty." Harper finished with military precision.

Not exactly what Morris wanted but it would do.

"Now, Technician," said Harper, deactivating the 'caster. "You are officially a member of this crew now. I do not expect you to salute and the other passengers need not know, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. I also expect you to obey my orders when I give them. Is that understood?"

Morris hadn't considered that. "Yes ma'am."

"Polar. Go to the main hold, Mister Kody will let you in, and begin servicing the equipment you find there."

Morris bit back hard on the words that wanted to come out. Harper stood there smugly, silently daring him to say something.

"Aye, ma'am." He turned to comply.

"Belay that, Technician," she said. "Report to engineering along with Mister Kody."

Morris felt a great relief as he left the office. Not nearly as much as Kody, though. The young midshipman veritably oozed relief as they approached engineering.

"I'm six-sigma glad you're here, sir," said Kody. "I'm following procedure but I'm not comfortable doing it."

"Stand easy, Tran," said Morris, "you soon will be."

***

Morris' breath caught as he entered engineering. He almost felt Lydia waiting for him. He felt a momentary pang of grief but a sense of purpose washed it away. He still felt her loss but the imagined closeness made it bearable. Now, by stars, he would find out what happened.

Morris' first concern was the fusion plant. Kody completed the required procedures and did them well but the plant itself still suffered damage. Now locked at thirty percent the power converters hovered near maximum load. Not good. The starchamber itself also showed some deterioration. Again not good. The bioreactor readout indicated major contamination but Morris didn't want to think about that yet. The hull pressure showed optimal.

"I checked the hull, sir," said Kody. "No breaches."

"None?"

"None whatsoever." The young man grimaced. "I know how to check for them, sir, plus-plus. My drill instructors at the Academy thought it an excellent pastime for cadets with any free time or demerits. The alarm malfunctioned."

"Very good, Tran. Thank you." Morris would accept that as fact.

Morris assessed the fusion chamber critically. At the current load they had at least three weeks to decay to dangerous levels and more than long enough to ground by what Blakeschiff said. Morris didn't trust that number since so many things could go wrong.

The greatest problem lay in keeping the ship in link. If the L-drive coils failed they would drop instantly into normal space and, if lucky, would spend less than a lifetime navigating home. No, dropping STL was not an option

Morris carefully checked the jump capacitors. If adjusted to discharge slowly and evenly they could keep the hull grid and phase field coils fed while he took the fusion plant offline. Feasible but he wouldn't trust the capacitors if they tested at less than tolerance eight.

Morris prepped the capacitors quickly and efficiently. He mechanically ate what Kody gave him noting it as fuel and nothing else. The capacitors exceeded tolerance eight so Morris began charging them. For extra safety he hardwired a double-damping gated shunt between the caps and the L-drive.

A hand shook his shoulder.

"We need to report to the Commander," said Kody. "She'll want to know this."

***

Not needing her steel facade now Harper showed signs of strain. She looked tired, almost haggard.

"Slowly, Technician," she said, looking up from the pilot's console.

"I'm going to fix the fusion plant," explained Morris. "In order to do so I'll need to reduce it to just above the ignition point. To keep us in link I'll feed the L-drive from the capacitors. I hard-isolated them and started charging."

"What happens when the fusion plant goes offline?"

"We shut down everything but life support. We have over two weeks of battery power so no problem there and the caps will keep us in link longer than I need to fix the starchamber. They might even last until we unlink but I'm not counting on that. While the fusion chamber is regenerating I am going to fine-tooth the power systems."

"Do we need to unlink now?"

"No ma'am," said Morris quickly. "As I said the capacitors will last us more than long enough to fix the power."

"That is an option, Morris." Harper flashed a small grin. "We're a lot better at abort locating, jitter correction and relink continuation than we used to be."

"Unnecessary, Commander," assured Morris.

Harper considered his plan for a few minutes.

"Do it."

Morris left Harper to explain the situation to the passengers. He and Kody physically isolated every system they could and Morris reduced the load on the fusion plant. When the capacitors reached full charge he switched the link drive over. He and Kody wore armored and sealed vacc suits when he did so. Nothing out of sorts happened so he quickly separated the link drive and capacitors from the power grid and isolated them into a single system. The fusion chamber he powered down to repair-access level, just above ignition.

"That is done, Mister Kody," said Morris as he removed his helmet. "We are safe and safely in link until we complete the repairs."

"Aye sir," said Kody, shedding his own suit. "Six sigmas safe but not necessarily comfortable."

Morris nodded. He took down every nonessential system until they finished repairs and this included the internal gravity. Morris neither liked nor disliked freefall but he doubted all the passengers shared his ambivalence. He removed his vacc suit and started donning radiation armor.

"Excuse me, sir," said an alarmed Kody. "What exactly are you planning to do?"

"I'm going to fix the fusion chamber."

"That chamber is still active, sir."

Morris came close to grinning at this. Darken the hair and change the build slightly and Kody could easily have been Kelven McCrory.

"Yes it is."

"You can't go in there. There's still a lot of loose radiation."

"Phase down, Tran. I know what I'm doing. The catalyst rings and induction points need replacement, or at least a good cleaning, and I want to check the containment." He took note of Kody's genuine distress. "Mister Kody, Tran, I've done this dozens of times. I've interned other Techs inside a chamber. Yes, there is some radiation but this armor is hardened specifically against it. The starchamber itself is highly localized and self-contained.

"I know you haven't had a lot of theory on this but basically the innermost containment is both self-reinforcing and proportionally regulated with exponential order. I'll be working well away from that, close to the outside containment vessel. The metal. The greatest threat where I intend to be is light. The second-greatest is loose plasma. All but a thousandth of a percent of the hard radiation is contained and constricted in the starchamber. I promise you I'll stay away from that. Would you care to join me?"

"No sir."

"Then don't worry." He did take the precaution of chewing up several antirad tablets. They always gave him horrible indigestion but such was the price of safety.

Morris carefully entered the fusion chamber, a drastically different pastel-surreal universe. His visor cut out most of the light but he still saw strange, twisting artifacts through the heavy, dark lenses. Wisps of glowing plasma ghosted around and beyond him giving the place an illusion of inhabitants. His skin tingled as the light-creatures touched him, a totally psychological effect since all of his radiation indicators showed him well within safe margins.

Repairing the damage consumed a lot of time. Replacing catalyst rings took no large effort but the things did require exact placement and alignment. He only had to replace two induction points although several others required cleaning and realignment. The inner wall of the outer containment vessel took on a polychromatic sheen as the catalyst rings began working together and the regen cycle finally worked efficiently.

Not long afterward Morris stood in the access lock with the chelate streams washing over him. Kody waited outside with an expression of surprise on his face.

"Incredible, sir."

"That I'm alive and uncooked?"

"That you can do something like that, enjoy it and consider it nothing but a day's work."

"You should try it sometime. What time is it?"

"2230, sir."

Morris felt his jaw drop. It didn't feel like seven hours.

"Indeed. I suppose we'll save the rest for tomorrow. Have you had any complaints?"

"One or two, sir. Not much eating either, at least among the civs. I suppose zero-gee is an acquired taste."

Morris chuckled. His stomach rumbled and sent out a blast of acidic fire. The only thing worse, he thought, than antirad tabs was antirad tabs on an empty stomach. He nodded to Kody and started for the lounge.

***

The ship, illuminated now only by the emergency reds, took on an eerie, somber quality that matched Morris' mood. He knew he had feelings to deal with and he knew he'd deal with them but for now he had a job to do.

One other person occupied the lounge when Morris arrived. Delroy sat at her holocad and worked on something he couldn't see. The holocad had its own internal power cell but Morris didn't think anyone would want to use it. Curious, he floated toward her.

"Specialist."

Delroy jumped, severely startled by Morris' presence. The movement thrust her against the straps which pushed her back into the seat only to bounce up again. With an almost-silent imprecation she reached out and stabilized herself.

"What... do you... want?" She spoke through clenched teeth.

"I was curious Specialist."

She cleared the console but not before Morris saw what it contained. Delroy kept her eyes locked on the now-blank screen.

"Ship schematics, Specialist?"

"I wanted to... to know... what... failed."

"If you're that uncomfortable, Specialist, take some halcinox."

"I... took... some," she said softly.

"If you wanted to know what failed, Specialist, why didn't you just ask?" His stomach growled again and sent out tendrils of pure fire.

"Leave me... alone."

"Specialist..."

"Go aw..." Delroy lifted her head sharply to glare at Morris.

Big mistake, that much was obvious. In zero gravity inner-ear balance was a thing best ignored. Though pale already Delroy turned even whiter. Her body clenched and Morris knew what that portended.

"Hold it. Hold it in, Specialist."

Morris unstrapped her quickly despite her feeble struggles. He grabbed the back of her collar and sailed both of them to the food dispenser. Built for both gravity and freefall it had an integrated soft vacuum basin. Morris maneuvered Delroy's face over it and hit the panic bar.

Delroy heaved almost hard enough to break Morris' grasp. She retched and gagged uncontrollably but each spasm produced nothing. Finally she coughed once and stopped jerking. Morris one-handed a request for a bulb of water.

"no." She spoke weakly and without moving her head at all.

"You should eat something. Halcinox and fallsickness are both worse with an empty stomach."

"Turn on... gravity." Then, softly. "Please."

"As soon as I possibly can, Specialist."

Delroy spoke no reply. After her breathing turned slow and regular Morris oriented her foot-down and float-walked her back to the holocad. Her face had a little more color now but she remained silent. Morris went back to the food dispenser, drew himself a meal and drink and her a tube of bland, low-residue ration paste. On his way out he stopped for a tube of stomach tablets. His gut burned from more than antirad tabs.

Back in his cabin Morris ate quickly and showered minimally. When he finished he noticed a message flashing on his terminal.

'Thank you.'

Unsigned.

***

The next morning Morris skipped breakfast and went straight to engineering. Kody yawned in a few minutes later with rations and chog.

"Commander's orders, sir. She knows your work habits."

Morris slurped down the ration paste while he checked the fusion chamber. The regeneration worked solidly and would have the unit restored before long.

"Now, Master Kody, let us find out what went wrong."

Even with - theoretically - zero power and potential in the systems Morris and Kody donned safe-suits and emplaced redundant grounds. Then they started taking the power systems apart node by node.

Mind completely focused on the task Morris worked, at times with Kody beside him and other times not. At times he almost felt Lydia there beside him, a comfort more than anything. He silently promised her to find out what went wrong.

A hand shook Morris' shoulder. He shrugged it off and kept working.

"Technician."

Morris snapped back to reality with a moment of disorientation. Harper stood there with a stern look on her face.

"I said that's enough for one day, Mister Taylor. am I understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

Harper and Kody exchanged glances.

"It's time for dinner, Technician," she said. "Stop working and eat."

Alerted to the time Morris' stomach growled long and loud. Though she said nothing Morris knew Harper heard it. As did Kody. And likely the others as well.

Few of the others ate and none save Morris, Garrett, Kody and Harper ate nearly enough. Around the table Morris saw all the various symptoms of fallsickness. No one spoke, least of all the normally-boisterous Jackson.

"This is why I don't take Survey missions more often," said the big man. "I six-sigma hate freefall."

Morris settled in to a nice, large meal of rations, just not paste. Lace watched him eat with equal measures of curiosity and disgust.

"How can you eat like that, Morris?"

"I'm hungry," he replied between bites. "Lieutenant Harper also ordered me to." He downed a few more bites. "Tech training includes a lot of time in zero gravity. I don't particularly like it but I don't dislike it either. It's just part of the job."

"The irony of it all," said Rackwell, exhibiting severe nausea, "is that I can't sleep well on anything but a gravitic bed."

Garrett finished his ration and started on something brightly-colored and likely sweet.

"It's good to see one civilian hungry," said Harkin. "Do you have freefall experience, Ron?"

"No," said Garrett quickly. "I just have bad equilibrium. Or good, depending on your point of view. My doctor tells me I believe my eyes more than my inner ears. I was in a darkfall chamber once and I lost my reference. I almost... umm... never mind."

"If that is true, Mister Garrett," said Rackwell, "then why don't you take more notes in class?"

"Not fair, Dr. R," exclaimed Garrett with injured dignity. "You're too enthralling. I just can't ignore you long enough to take a single..."

"Shut up Ron," interrupted Eisley, her expression sour. "We're sick enough already. Don't make us stomach that too."

Chuckles. Though feeble Eisley's comment lightened the mood some.

"When will we have gravity?" asked Polov.

"As soon as possible," said Morris. "Maybe late tomorrow or early the next day."

***

Resuming where he left off the previous night Morris found the problem just before lunch. It made no sense but few accidents did.

"That's it?" asked Harper as she examined the charred thing Morris handed her.

"Yes ma'am." He took back the power coupling and indicated several of the worst-charred parts. "Given that this unit failed everything falls into sequence. This coupling failed. The fluctuation sent a surge down the secondary network. Since it was down but not disconnected the safeties triggered. That sent the surge through the drive array which shorted and both took the load and protected the link drive. The forward surge along the main network hit the bioreactor which dispersed most of it then traveled to the hot backup computer. When that spiked and shorted it triggered the hull breach alarm. The back-surge from the safety trips destabilized the fusion chamber and took down some nonessential systems."

"Have you confirmed this?"

He showed her the event logs, both raw and with his hypotheses noted. The explanation fit perfectly.

"Very good, Morris. I'll log it."

"But this unit shouldn't have failed," he said. "This is a Sparks Industries Multi-Phase HD built to military specification. They don't fail."

"But this one did."

"Commander, these couplings have survived fusion plant melts. It should not have failed. These components are safety-system failover rated."

Harper took a slow breath in and let it out as slowly.

"Accidents do happen, Morris. By their nature they shouldn't but they do. Occam's Razor. Your hypothesis fits and it's the best fit." Her eyes softened. "I realize it's more than a statistical improbability to you but I'm just very glad that you found it and fixed it. Have you checked the other couplings yet?"

"Yes ma'am. Extensively. None of them shows anything unusual and they all tested at tolerance eight-five. Even the ones closest to the event."

"Excellent. When can we power up?"

"Now if you like. Engineering is ready."

"Then so, by the stars, am I." For a bare moment Harper appeared young and vulnerable, thrust into a duty she didn't relish at all. "Will you help Kody prepare the passengers?"

It took Kody amazingly little time to issue emergency gear: vacc suits for those qualified on them and EVACs for the rest. More time-consuming was the task of equipping and preparing the others. He, Kody and Jackson trained extensively in it but as to the others...

Zero gravity didn't help. At Harper's orders everyone took medical doses of halcinox. Nausea overcame medicine more than once when someone lost contact with the floor or became disoriented. At long last everyone had their suits on and sealed except for the helmets. Between them Morris, Jackson and Kody strapped down the rest and attached their helmets. With one exception. Kody finally attracted Morris' attention with a desperate glance. Morris finished with Eisley and moved to assist the midshipman.

"I'll take this, Mister Kody. Help Polov."

"Aye sir." Kody floated away gratefully.

Morris took Delroy's helmet and faced her. She glared back furiously but he saw a small spark of fear there too. That clicked with several other observations and crystallized to a conclusion.

"Relax, Specialist. We'll be done quickly."

"No." Pale, Delroy spat the word through clenched teeth but left no doubt about her feelings.

"I know something, Specialist," said Morris, speaking only for her to hear. "Close your eyes long enough for me to lock down the helmet and I'll open the visor. If you keep your eyes tightly closed until then it won't seem nearly as closed in."

"Burn you," she hissed vehemently, fear more evident now.

"Otherwise," he continued as though nothing had happened. "I'll call Doctor Jackson over to give you a sedative. I'll also tell him exactly why you need it."

She tried to stare him down defiantly but he kept his gaze steady. Finally she closed her eyes.

"Do it."

Morris attached the helmet and dogged it down quickly. Then, as promised, he flipped up the visor.

"Do you want soporill?"

"No." She sharpened the word but didn't vent her anger through it.

"Sit easy, then. I'll have you lights and gravity before you know it."

***

"Fifteen-alpha through sixteen-tango activate," said Morris.

"Fifteen-alpha to sixteen-tango activating," echoed Kody.

"Load shunt activate."

"Load shunt active. Capacitor port is responding, capacitors are still isolated."

"Thank you, Mr. Kody," said Morris. "Strap down."

Carefully, cautiously Morris increased the load on the fusion chamber. As he did the powerless systems detected the increase and began slowly merging themselves into the grid. The master reading jiggled at each one but nothing past the caution threshold. When everything reported full-active he ran the plant up to full power. The reading varied not a single deviation from optimal. As a precaution he kept the link drive disconnected.

"And we are done, sir," said Kody, removing his helmet. "What about the L-drive?"

"I'm going to keep it isolated," said Morris. "We'll hard-partition the capacitors into four separate banks, run the drive off one and trickle power into the others. Once one is fully charged we'll start on the next. That way if something bad does happen we have doubly-redundant backup."

Kody nodded.

An enthusiastic acclaim approval greeted Morris and Kody when they entered the lounge. Though the others still suffered the vestiges of fallsickness the welcome restoration of light and gravity worked wonders to minimize them. Morris and Kody helped them out of their suits before reporting to Harper.

"Excellent job." Harper closed her eyes and gave them a good rub. When she opened them several years worth of strain sloughed off her expression. "Thank you, Technician." Then into the comm. "Specialist Jackson please report to the Commander's office."

When Jackson arrived Harper activated the official log.

"Specialist Jackson, Technician Taylor, I do hereby relieve you of the obligations and duties impressed upon you by Naval General Article 21. The League and Navy appreciate your service as do I personally." So saying, Harper signed and sealed the log entry and put the 'caster away.

"Don't worry, Morris," she added, noting his expression. "You're still in engineering. It is my opinion, backed by your reports, that the emergency condition has passed and the events and damage it caused repaired sufficiently. From now there should be nothing more than routine maintenance, yes?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Truth pure and pristine," said Jackson. "Come along, Morris. Let's have a decent meal."

Lace and Harkin finished their meals as Morris and Jackson drew theirs. According to Harkin the students and Rackwell worked over their equipment in the main hold.

"This does feel better," said Lace, lighting a drugstick. "I appreciate gravity, Morris."

Morris smiled but didn't stop eating. His stomach informed him he'd missed more meals than he should have but he still managed a grin.

Lace examined him critically.

"How are you feeling?"

He paused to swallow then spoke truthfully.

"It still hurts. Especially when I'm not busy."

Jackson and Harkin quieted and the big man placed a hand on Morris' shoulder.

"We're here if you need us."

He regarded each with a smile and quickly resumed eating.

Morris eyed the drive array critically. The power surge shorted it completely and did considerable damage otherwise but nothing he couldn't fix, given time. With strict instructions to Kody to stop him before dinner he dove into his work. Per his promise to Harper he took extraordinary safety precautions and as he worked he checked every undamaged component for signs of undue wear. He found none.

"Technician. Sir."

A hand shaking his shoulder.

"Morris."

"Yes. Yes?" Morris struggled to extract himself from the microcircuit world of logic flows and power net control. "Tran. What is it?" He cast an anxious glance at the readouts.

"It's time to eat, sir. Dinner? You told me to stop you."

Morris checked his 'chrono. "Is the ship..."

"Running perfectly," interrupted Kody. "Don't worry, sir. Nothing would dare your wrath by failing now."

Morris chuckled at this. With a nod to Kody they started forward. No sooner had they opened the main bulkhead than they met Lace on her way to fetch them.

"Tran, Tran," said Lace sadly. "Don't let this Technician corrupt you. Are you two stopping or just taking a break?"

Without giving time for an answer Lace took an arm from each and started forward.

Dinner conversation was subdued and hesitant. No one wanted to discuss the accident and that left precious little else. Finally tired of the others' circumnavigation of the area Morris addressed Polov directly.

"So what have the three of you been doing?" he asked.

"Repairing things, sir," said Polov. "Using what we learned before we left and the repair manuals we've identified the problems the incident caused our equipment."

"Good," said Morris. "What about fixing them?"

"They will wait for you, of course," said Rackwell. "We want our equipment in prime condition for the expedition. If we still have one, that is."

Those words hung heavy in the air. The other conversations faltered and died. Oblivious to what he'd done, Rackwell continued eating. Harkin finally broke the silence.

"Well Mallory," he said, "do we still have an expedition?"

That brought total silence. Brief but intense emotional currents flashed around the table. That someone should ask... What about... They wanted to know... But after what happened...

Harper cleared her throat and all attention focused on her.

"Our mission has not changed," she said. "What happened is a tragedy, of that there is no doubt, but Commander Blakeschiff's orders were and are explicit. Since Technician Taylor completed repairs without necessitating dropping out of link we will arrive on F37A on schedule. From there we will proceed as planned."

Morris admired Harper's facade. That he recognized it as such meant it still needed work.

"One of the items we have," continued Harper, "is a beacon drone. I will deploy it as soon as we attain a stable orbit. When I dispatch it I'll send our logs but I would also like to transmit something about the planet itself."

That gave Morris pause. Beacon drones, unmanned spacecraft capable of link drive navigation, were not common within the League and almost unheard-of outside it. The technology required to calculate waypoints and maintain all but the shallowest and shortest link insertions was both extremely advanced and highly classified. Not that this mission didn't rate one they simply were not kept at every League Navy base or depot. The potential uses of a stolen drone kept them under the tightest security.

Morris observed the others' reactions. They ranged from reserved approval to the diametric opposite. He could not fault Harper's reasoning though. Once they grounded safely common sense and Navy procedure dictated that they should stay there and await another ship. While Morris had no problem standing in as engineer that still left the ship undermanned, especially with Blakeschiff in stasis and Harper as the only pilot and astrogator. With extreme need they'd travel back otherwise Harper would keep them onplanet.

"Is that a good idea?" asked Lace, sounding unconvinced.

"It is," answered Morris. "A find this rare is not something to be dismissed lightly. Even with the... the cost. It's also simple common sense. Once we're grounded on a habitable planet we're automatically in a better position than in orbit or in link. Once the League or Halcyon receives word of what happened they will have a corps of experts en route to us. For me personally I'd like to see a group of scientists with them as well."

There. He said it. By giving Harper his support he supported her position and made is own known, though it cost him. It was rank politics but necessary. When the others began discussing Morris' and Harper's words she flashed him a quick grateful smile.

After the meal they talked a while longer but not too long given the trying nature of the past couple of days. As he left Morris felt a heavy glare. Delroy, of course. She sat at her holocad, ostensibly looking down.

"What?" As usual Delroy did not look up at Morris' approach.

"Your eyes, Specialist, are also heavy."

She stiffened but said nothing.

"Is there something you want to discuss?" he asked.

"No."

When Morris emerged from his wonderfully long, hot and heavy shower he saw his terminal flashing.

'Good evening again, Specialist.'

'Do you really think the mission should continue or were you just supporting Harper?'

'It is important.'

'That's not what I asked.'

'Yes, I do believe the mission should continue. Besides which fact it would be unwise to leave the planet once we ground there, at least until we've notified the League or Halcyon.'

'Did you love her?'

That hurt. Not that Morris hadn't asked himself a thousand times. He still had no answer but the question, and the emotional jolt it caused, churned at his stomach.

'Does it matter? Is it important or just another datum for your bloody diagram?'

'I want to know.'

Disgusted, Morris closed the message module and privacy-locked his console. His gut sent him a fiery message. He tried to ignore it and read a while but to no use. Unfortunately he'd already taken all of his stomach tablets so he put on his shirt and headed to the lounge for more.

Barefoot, Morris made no noise walking. Darkness filled the corridor and lounge save for the lights on the holocad where Delroy still sat. She wore an expression Morris had never seen on her before.

Uncertainty. She hesitated a moment and entered something on the console. She tugged and twirled a lock of hair, twisting and worrying it. When the console beeped and gave her an answer she didn't like a look of sadness crossed her face.

This time Morris approached her with a deliberate effort at silence.

"Specialist."

Delroy jumped. For a bare second her face was frightened, vulnerable. Then steel again.

"What?"

"Why?" Morris worked to keep his voice steady and even.

"It's information I need." Cool and distant.

"Then perhaps I'll tell you when it isn't so painful." He matched his voice to hers.

That drew a reaction. Slight, but now he knew where to look.

"Good night, Specialist."

He dialed up a packet of stomach tablets and chewed two on the way back to his cabin.

# Chapter 9. ... And Fixing Them

Morris dove back into the drive array. After a quick check of the systems still down he assigned Kody to repair the ones that Navy protocol would handle well. Though the midshipman still lacked confidence Morris trusted him. That plus Morris' easy accessibility allowed Kody to complete repairs properly and quickly. At lunch Morris apprised Jackson of the bioreactor status. With his medical experience plus his background with Survey and biology he could help with the thing and he agreed as soon as Morris explained it.

"Backwash," said Jackson after checking the bioreactor's monitor pad. "Technically known as trans-boundary progressive toxic contamination. I can fix it but it will take some time."

Morris started the flush cycle before he began work on the engines but by what Jackson said it would have no effect.

"I can see you have the hardware fixed," said Jackson. "The which is good because that's out of my orbits. When will you be finished with the engines?"

"Not long. I'm almost down to the polish now."

"Polar. Do you mind if I drag in Jena and Culle? She's a ruddy good biologist and he's better than he brags."

"Which he doesn't," observed Morris. Harkin had twin gifts for versatility and understatement. "Absolutely if they're willing to help."

"Oh absolutely they will," said Jackson. "Plus I can get an accurate thermal assessment."

Morris shook his head and left Jackson to his task. With Lace handling the external monitor and manipulation the other two donned biosafety suits and began repairing and replacing the pseudosmotic filters, chemical feeds and other damaged components. That was not a task Morris looked forward to doing.

By the time Morris finished the drive array Jackson had the bioreactor configured to self-clean, purge the toxins and reinitialize itself.

"Phew." Jackson two-fingered his nose when he popped out of his biosuit.

Morris couldn't help grinning at this. Both Jackson and Harkin went through decontamination twice.

"The sad part is," said Lace, "it doesn't smell any better when it's working right."

Though still early for dinner none of them wanted to continue. That bothered Morris not at all. Jackson, Harkin and Lace accomplished in one afternoon what would have taken him several. Now the thing only needed time to regenerate.

Dinner conversation was light. Morris put most of his attention into consuming rations although by tomorrow they should have real food. That thought brought a smile. Most people and especially Naval personnel didn't consider anything produced by the bioreactor as real food. That tended to change whenever the bioreactors went down with stored rations as the only alternative.

After prodding Keyson throughout the entire meal Rackwell turned his attention to Morris.

"For truth, Morris, tell me how much danger we were in."

The question caught Morris off-guard. "Not insignificant but after the initial event it decreased exponentially. Why?"

"It just seems to me that four personnel do not constitute an adequate crew. I'm curious as to how the League justifies this."

Rackwell's comments rankled Keyson but she kept quiet. Morris hoped for a cue but she didn't give one so he decided to abandon subtlety. What Rackwell said did little for Morris' comfort and he allowed this to leak through.

"For ordinary missions, and this qualifies, a Cuttle-class crew complement is more than adequate."

"But how?"

Morris marshaled his information carefully. Like a canine with a meaty bone Rackwell did not give up easily when he had an issue in his grasp. Nor, for that matter, had Blakeschiff.

"First and foremost this is primarily a patrol and courier boat. It isn't meant to fight on the line and its missiles can handle pirates or other criminals. Second, the League Navy doesn't tie up inordinate crew where they're simply not needed. Patrol boats carry small crews for the same reason the League doesn't patrol its inner sectors with carrier groups: efficient and adequate use of resources.

"Finally, in the role of passenger and light cargo transfer a large crew would be a waste. It doesn't take many people to babysit cargo and passengers are expected to amuse themselves. This isn't a Posh-class liner and it isn't crewed as such. Cuttles are as common throughout the League as undergraduates on campus. The civilian surpluses are couriers or traders, depending on the engines. They just don't need a large crew."

Rackwell either missed or ignored Morris' dig.

"But see here." He simply would not give up. "What happens when the systems fail?"

That did not feel pleasant.

"That's my point. They don't."

"But this one did."

"A component malfunctioned." Morris knew he'd need more stomach tabs. "The ship itself did not fail."

Rackwell finally realized he'd gone too far.

"I'm sorry, Morris. I didn't mean to distress you," he said with genuine concern, "but the... incident... frightened all of us very badly."

The silence grew until Garrett finally broke it.

"What exactly did happen, Dr. Taylor?"

Total silence. Garrett asked the question gnawing on all their minds.

"There was a surge in the power grid," said Morris simply. The words didn't hurt as much as he thought they would. "A coupling failed and sent a surge backward into the secondary network and forward into the drive array. The backsurge triggered the alarms and the forward surge took out the bioreactor and drives."

"But..." Rackwell considered his words. "Why didn't the safeties work?"

"They did. No critical systems sustained damage and we didn't drop out of link."

"But..."

"The drives and fusion plant are reparable," said Morris, "as is the bioreactor. That's what we spent the past few days doing. The link drive is designed with so much redundant safety it's almost impossible to drop out. Differential field collapse is even less likely. The thruster array is designed to blow before the link coils and grid for that very reason."

Harper glared at first but her expression soon softened as Morris explained in careful detail exactly why the danger was so low. Even if the rations weren't tasty.

After Morris finished Lace started talking about a lighter topic. That suited Morris since he didn't feel like talking afterward.

***

Morris floated inside the reactor, not feeling well at all. The antirad tabs kicked in too quickly and it felt like he breathed raw engine plasma. Several of the catalyst rings worked loose which posed no great danger unless left unattended. He had to shut off the gravity again then flush the fusion chamber and re-start the regen cycles. The loose ring shone eerily by fusion-light and strange shadows danced within the chamber. He carefully re-patched the connections he thought would last a hundred years.

Morris froze mid-motion as he realized he wasn't alone.

The other person, also clad in radiation armor, drifted toward him carefully avoiding proximity to the starchamber. It held something, not a weapon since none would work here. It beckoned him closer.

Morris' skin prickled and the hairs on his neck rose at the other's movement, so familiar yet...

Lydia reached out to him, now wearing only her cream-colored dress. He tried to speak, to warn her. She should know not to be here...

As she started to fade Lydia held up her hand. In it...

Morris sat bolt-upright with a sound half terror and half denial. Fear and panic washed through him and dripped off as cold sweat, the darkness suffocating him. Fumbling for a light he tried to calm himself. The light revealed the metal walls of his cabin and not the fusion plant and he sat among the scattered covers in his shorts, not antirad armor.

How long he sat motionless Morris couldn't say but the strong emotions finally began to ebb. He gathered his covers, lay back and finally slept. The light he dimmed but did not extinguish.

***

Lace sat alone when Morris arrived for breakfast the next morning. She wore an absorbed expression. Morris drew rations and sat before she noticed him. When she did a concerned expression replaced the distant one.

"Morris. You look like hades. What happened?

"Good morning to you too," he said jovially. "Bad sleep night."

"Do you need to talk to Jared?" she asked.

Harper, who just entered, scowled sharply at this.

"No. Not at all. I'm polar."

"What happened, Technician," demanded Harper.

"Restless night," said Morris. "Too many antirad and stomach tabs."

Harper eyed him carefully.

"Don't worry about engineering today," she said. "Midshipman Kody can handle things, I think. Go to the hold and help Rackwell and the students."

Morris thought to object but she was right. Kody could handle the minor repairs remaining and Rackwell could probably use the help. Besides, by her mien Harper would brook no refusal.

Garrett carefully placed the circuit strip, squeezed two beads of resin to hold it in place and connected the optical fibers to it. The module belonged to a sample analyzer and when Garrett tested it it worked perfectly, to his surprise. Surprise changed to chagrin as he caught Morris' look.

"Very good, Mr. Garrett."

Morris nodded approval without hesitation. Garrett had a delicate touch and a good feel for the repairs he made. Morris caught Polov and Eisley watching out of the corner of his eye. Since Polov looked up first Morris chose him.

Rackwell left not long after Morris arrived. His presence along with Morris' made the students uncomfortable so he chose to go. Under Morris' supervision the students worked all morning. When he arrived they each presented him with a list of things that needed repair then looked shocked when he told them to pick one and begin. They worked slowly, of course, but with confidence that grew with each success.

"Stop when you reach a good place," said Morris. "It's almost time for lunch and I don't want Ms. Lace chastising me. Again."

Eisley chuckled at Morris' addition and she and Polov extricated themselves. Garrett followed suit a few minutes later.

Much to Lace's dismay the students discussed the repairs they made over lunch. Eisley and Garrett worked mostly on Halcyon gear and Polov the League. They compared what they did and even dipped into the theory behind it. Working hands-on they all saw the patterns in the equipment they fixed.

"Does that surprise you?" asked Delroy, without acid.

"It's one thing to say it," said Polov with respect but no intimidation, "but another universe entirely to see it."

"Relationships and their patterns are always present," continued Delroy. "All the quantities you discussed are nonlinear but still well short of random. Have you tried to analyze them?"

"Umm... no," said Polov.

"How?" asked Eisley.

"Try a ripple-trend metric or a gossip wave."

"On a circuit flow?" asked Eisley incredulously.

"Why not? As Technician Taylor," here Delroy's voice stiffened slightly, "will tell you the processes are fundamentally isomorphic."

Morris nodded when they looked at him.

"Dr. Delroy is correct," he said. "In case you hadn't puzzled it out she designed your crowd pattern exercises."

Delroy nodded and smiled genuinely. Eisley looked at the other two.

"We should have known."

The students kept Morris busy all afternoon. Their work slowed as they searched for patterns but he minded that not at all. When Rackwell reappeared they barely noticed.

At dinner Harper announced they'd be unlinking the next day. That set the topic for conversation but again Morris managed to talk little. It felt strange to think of their mission now. He'd begun considering their arrival on F37A as the end of the journey and not the beginning.

The flashing terminal after Morris finished his shower didn't surprise him.

'Good evening, Specialist.'

'What do you think of our students?'

'They're doing quite well.'

'Have you analyzed your information yet?'

'No, Specialist, I've been busy.'

Once again the graphic popped open with the same diagram.

'Have you refined the criteria?' he asked.

'Don't be insulting. Of course I have.'

'What about your reference criteria?'

Nothing.

'You don't have a metric, Specialist. How can I reach a conclusion without a proper scale?'

'What do you think of us?'

'Narrow your criterion, please, Specialist.'

'Our mission. What do you think of it?'

'Again, in what way? Shall I come to the lounge and discuss it?'

'NO!'

The suddenness of the reply surprised Morris.

'Why not, Specialist? I can answer your questions more completely.'

Nothing. Then the module terminated. When Morris checked he found the lounge holocad privacy-locked.

***

Morris sat alone and fidgeted. Odd, he thought, he'd never fidgeted alone before. He sat, full from a meal at the Respite, and waited. Kelven and Jena had already left for the club next door but he doubted they'd stay long. Whether natural talent or association with Morris Jena had developed a keen eye for patterns and that fascinated Kelven.

"Sorry I took so long."

Lydia's smile still warmed Morris and the subtle sway she executed sitting down sent hot ripples through him. Something nagged the back of his mind as she cuddled up next to him.

"I think you'll find the wait worthwhile." She placed a box on the table in front of him. "I had to get this."

The ripples coursing through Morris turned cold. Lydia was gone.

"It's something you should have," she said shyly.

When she looked up Morris saw distance and the coldness spread outward. Lydia, the table, the room, all of them started to fade.

"Well... Open it."

The box was heavy for its size, then strangely light.

Morris woke upright, covers flung away. He left his light on dim so the room wasn't completely dark and again he was alone within it. The panic-surges faded slowly but left in their wake a tiny seed of potential revelation. Morris lay back and calmed himself. He didn't sleep for a long time.

***

The next morning Morris gobbled his breakfast quickly so he could leave before Harper arrived. A part of him chided his behavior as unprofessional but only a small part. Kody puttered around engineering, distantly heard as he worked at his tasks. Morris checked his list and started at the opposite end. Between them they should have the ship perfect by the time they unlinked.

Morris began servicing the L-drive power net. Though disconnected he would not ignore it. As he worked the minuscule sounds prevalent in engineering hummed to him. This close to the system he could hear the subsonic hum of the thalyssium grid. No doubt about it the ship was happy now. She hadn't been for a while but now that changed. Lost in his work Morris felt more than heard Kody walk up behind him.

Morris' spine chilled. It wasn't Kody he heard. The smell of lubricant and burnt insulation covered her perfume but he still felt her smile. He felt some urgency, though.

Morris started to turn but stopped himself. She would not be there. She could not. He knew that. He knew it as simple, hard fact. He'd turn to an empty room. But...

Morris deliberately avoided questioning his sanity. Logic told him that no mind could view itself objectively and in all the patterns he studied anomalies like that stood out. He might consider objectives, alternatives, consequences and implications but none of them fit him. None. He could only view the effects they might have on others.

He felt urgently and fought desperately the urge to turn. If he couldn't reason his way past this he would indeed need help, serious help, and help not available for a long time. If he turned he risked losing his rationality to phantoms. To... ghosts?

Morris carefully and automatically secured the panel before him. It appalled him to see his hands shaking. A single cold drop of sweat trickled down his neck, then his back. He felt her...

"Technician."

Morris jumped violently, heart racing and body shaking now. When he turned, saturated with fear and adrenaline, Kody stood before him. Only Kody.

"What's wrong, sir?"

"I'm... I'm fine, Midshipman. Tran. I'm polar."

"You are not polar, sir. It's time for lunch and you need to eat."

Morris ate mechanically. He had no doubt his sanity was intact but the cold, rational part of him questioned that certainty. Knowing that it was wrong and probably the worst thing to do he shoved the concern to the back of his mind as far as it would go. Beside him Eisley, Polov and Garret discussed the patterns they found with an attentive Jackson. Kody and Harper spoke softly at the head of the table.

"... and I'm telling you it's an outstanding design," said Eisley. She powered up a datapad and made a crude drawing of a rover.

"The process flow is the same for the motive system and the brakes," she said, tapping the diagram. "It has a safety along with a secondary system with its own redundant safety."

Jackson shrugged an impudent grin inviting her, almost daring her, to continue.

"That means that even if you lose the primary actuator," here she tapped the 'pad again, "there is no danger whatsoever of losing motive power or brakes. The cross-flowing pattern overlaps both systems so they each have, essentially, built-in double redundancy with safeties."

That was it. Sudden realization made Morris choke. Conversation stopped as Jackson pounded him on the back.

"What happened, Morris?" asked the big man. "You cryo?"

Morris nodded. Now it all made sense. He was sane and with that sanity came, crystal clear with perfect hindsight, the explanations he didn't want to consider.

"Eat food," mumbled Morris, "don't breathe food."

Jackson chuckled and after a moment Eisley resumed her conversation.

Cold now with implication Morris scanned the room. Lace, Polov, Rackwell and Garret half-talked with a lot of attention on what Eisley said to Jackson. Delroy sat at the holocad and Kody and Harkin both huddled over a datapad in the corner.

Harper speared Morris with a steely, steady stare.

"My office, Technician."

***

Morris organized his thoughts quickly. No doubt Kody related his behavior and that did not bode well but no matter. The logic of it crystallized with each part fixed in Morris' mind.

Harper sat behind her desk and Kody stood behind Morris, against the wall.

"Ms. Harper. Commander. I know what you must be thinking but..."

"Technician." Harper's no-nonsense tone stopped him cold. "Mister Kody tells me you sat and stared at a transfer module for twenty minutes without touching it. Is this correct?"

"Yes ma'am. I have..."

"Yesterday Ms. Lace asked you if you needed to talk to Doctor Jackson. Since the two of you are not the best of friends I assume she meant for professional reasons."

"Yes ma'am, but..."

"I myself observed you behaving oddly at lunch. Would you care to explain your actions?"

"I'll do so gladly, ma'am, but I need you to..."

"Sit down Technician. You will tell me everything I want to know and that is all I expect to hear from you, do you understand?"

Frustrated, Morris sat and began talking. He spared no detail and throughout his explanation her expression didn't change. He described his conversations with Delroy, his dreams and what happened before lunch.

"... and now I know why," finished Morris. "If you'll just..."

"Technician. You sound to me suspiciously like a man standing on the bare edge of sanity and clinging to rationality by a weak thread. You yourself said the rational mind cannot objectively evaluate its own rationality."

"I can explain it."

"Please do so." Harper's tone made an order of the request.

"Commander... Please have Mr. Kody seal engineering." There. He finally managed to say it.

Whether from the desperation in his voice or simply to appease him Harper nodded to Kody. As he left she pulled out a stunner and set it on her desk. By her manner she knew she could handle things easily without it.

"Very well, Technician. Convince me."

"Do you have the power coupling that failed?"

Without shifting her gaze Harper pulled it out and slid it across her desk. Morris put on his holospecs and examined the thing microscopically. There was no evidence immediately visible but there would not be.

"I'm waiting."

Moving slowly, Morris activated a 'pad and brought up the ship's schematics. He excluded everything but the power networks and the systems that failed. Another command animated the flows.

"This is our power network."

"I know that."

"The system is designed with multiply-redundant safeties and backups beyond that. In theory the entire network can never fail. With the redundant flows and overlaps in place and with the safety systems functional the entire construct is over..."

"Mister Taylor I am prepared to call Doctor Jackson and have you sedated and in stasis."

Morris took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Pretend you don't know about flow dynamics. Pretend you don't know about all the safety features. Pretend you've never seen in action the double-sequence-overlapping-safety model. S-suppose you have nothing to study but the static schematics. If you wanted to destroy the ship completely how would you do it?"

Harper said nothing. Her eyes widened as she considered his words and the stunner disappeared back into the desk. She looked from Morris to the 'pad to the ruined power coupling. The mil-spec Sparks Industries Multi-Phase HD that never failed.

"So, Technician, you're saying..." She looked at him expectantly.

"T-that the accident was no accident at all."

***

"I realize it sounds outer-orbit and I can't blame you for doubting it but look at the evidence. Lydia was a good technician. B-before we started she said something looked odd. She logged it. Then when she was inside the access she said something about a loose panel. It... I didn't think about it until Dr. Rackwell said something about the safeties."

"That started you thinking," she said. "Burnit. Burn it to hades."

"I hope I'm wrong," started Morris. "I can't really be right but..."

Harper held up her hand and Morris fell silent. A deeply troubled look of resignation settled across her features. After a moment she pulled out the official log 'caster.

"Acting Commander's log addendum," she said, stating the mission number. "Effective immediately I am placing Technician Morris Taylor under article 27."

Morris sat in stunned silence. Harper signed and sealed the log. Article 27 was similar to Article 21 but much stronger and reserved for the gravest of emergencies.

"I'm sorry, Morris," she said, "but this is necessary."

She opened the ship's safe and took out several high-encryption datacubes. She initialed its access log and handed it to Morris to do likewise. She then established security coverage within the office. He didn't see what kind of crypto she used to unlock the datacubes but the content she released didn't impress him at all.

"This is data concerning F37A," he said. "Basically what Commander Blakeschiff gave us but not as boring."

"Check the timestamp."

The data was securely dated and verified three months before Morris left Dracos.

***

"This..." Words left Morris.

"This mission," said Harper, "the mission to F37A was and is our sole objective."

Morris sat silent for a long time. Finally. "We need to turn back. As soon as we unlink."

"Not an option. This mission must continue as planned. If you check the other cubes you'll find base location sites and suggested procedures formulated by some of the most powerful minds within League Intelligence. I don't know why the Commander sat on them but they're not that different from what you all did on your own.

"I have just released 4C-classified material to you. You're the only civilian aboard with that high a level and I expect you to respect it." Harper unlocked another cube. "This is 6C with a need-to-know endorsement."

Morris read the indicated entries.

"Intelligence does its work well," she said. "Those are my contingency orders for any circumstance in which Commander Blakeschiff is removed from command. By order of the League Senate this mission will be completed."

"Why?"

Harper sighed. "The reasons should be obvious. F37A is effectively isolated. There are more-habitable worlds nearby so colonization is not an issue. While Halcyon has the pre-emptives the Rift Consortium could make an equally valid claim. So, for that matter, could the League. That doesn't even count the minor power groups around. The Claudian Resolve would chew rock and pizzle platinum to claim this."

"Politics." Morris spat the word.

"Necessary," said Harper tiredly. "In terms of size, physical or economic, Halcyon isn't anywhere close to the Consortium or the League. They have a solid, strong economy but it's a tight one. Whoever discovers this site will necessarily bear the brunt of paying for its exploration."

"Halcyon has a right to it," said Morris.

"I agree. So does the League but Halcyon bloody well won't let us pay for it. I plus-plus promise you they're working their floppers off trying to come up with a way to claim - and pay for - this all by themselves. If the League has a team in place when they arrive they'll have to let us share the costs.

"As of now," continued Harper, "this mission has cost us one life. We have to make sure it doesn't cost us more."

Morris nodded. He heard the pain in her voice.

***

After a moment Harper spoke again.

"Could this coupling have been damaged before we left Helene?"

"No ma'am. These units are ruddy hard to damage without causing a complete failure and even then it's nearly impossible to do without its being noticed. Lydia and I checked the systems not long after we left. It wasn't as thorough as a groundside inspection but we would have noticed something that badly wrong."

"Torque." Harper rubbed her eyes. "That means whoever did it is still aboard."

Morris didn't want to think about that.

"What's more, he or she was prepared to die along with the rest of us. I ran a sim with the full network active. We might just have dropped out of link but more likely we'd have differential field collapse."

Morris nodded reluctantly. With uneven and uncontrolled power loss their vessel would have emerged from linkspace scattered across several parsecs.

"Do not speculate among the others," said Harper coldly. "We cannot afford to show our cards. As of now our saboteur must act within the confines of a normal accident. My metal says you're smart enough to prevent that from happening."

Morris shifted uncomfortably under more responsibility than he wanted to handle.

"What about the mission?"

"It must continue. We must land on F37A, establish a base, prepare for the follow-up teams and communicate this fact to the League and Halcyon. Past that we are expendable." She smiled bitterly. "As for the repercussions and mega-political implications those are beyond the scope of my orders."

Once again she looked young and vulnerable.

"As to you, Technician," she said. "I believe you've just had a mild case of shock brought about by fatigue and trauma."

"Ma'am?"

"That will cover your recent unusual behavior quite nicely. It will also give me a good reason to restrict you to light duty."

"But I'm needed..."

"To help me keep us all alive," she interrupted. "Which is why I intend to ride you hard about not overextending yourself. It wouldn't hurt things to have an apparent schism between us."

Morris' mind twisted to follow her sudden tangent. This was dirty politics with the stakes far too high for his peace of mind.

"So you're a steel-hearted... vix." The words didn't fit Morris' mouth and they tasted awful besides. "And I'm the poor victim of your frustration."

"Basically correct. Can you do it?"

"I don't really have a choice do I?"

Harper nodded. Then, with her face a steel mask she jabbed the comm.

"Specialist Jackson report to my office now, please."

By the time Jackson arrived Morris had his face set in an emotionless mask that radiated anger.

"Specialist," said Harper, voice diamond-hard. "Take Technician Taylor to sickbay and sedate him. Now."

"Commander..." started Morris.

"Be quiet, Technician. We'll unlink within a few hours and within two to five days to the planet. I will not have you exhausted when that happens. You have consistently worked too hard and ignored my orders to stop it."

Morris opened his mouth to reply but Harper switched her glare to Jackson.

"You have your orders, Specialist."

# Chapter 10. Animosity

Morris and Jackson walked to sickbay shrouded in silence. Several others looked up when they strode through the lounge but none spoke. In sickbay Jackson sat Morris on the diagnostic bunk, set up the scanners and sat facing him.

"Talk to me, Morris," said Jackson. "Your ASFs are obscenely high."

Anxiety, stress and fatigue, thought Morris. "I've been working."

"No, sirra." Jackson shook his head. "I allowed for that. Something way deeper is acting up. Besides, simple overexertion wouldn't make Mallory go suborbital like that. You can either talk to me or I can give you a shot of neothor."

Morris reluctantly recounted his dreams, edited, along with the incident in engineering.

"That's a bit long for a delay," said Jackson, "but understandable. Don't worry, Morris. You're finally starting the recovery process. Loss plus proximity to where that loss happened plus the strain you've been under equals symptoms. We'll get you past it, brother."

Jackson dialed two packets of medicine.

"This is a mild sedative. Go to your cabin and take it then lay down and rest until dinner. The other is onirex. Take one now and before you go to bed. It should tame down those dreams and let you sleep."

"Thank you."

***

Morris followed Jackson's instructions. Though it irked him not to be in engineering he saw the need. Jackson's sedative was very mild. He did rest but he never quite drifted off to sleep. He hovered in a hazy land of relaxation without any troubling dreams. Most of the effects wore off by the time his door beeped.

"Morris?" The voice belonged to Lace.

He opened the door.

"You're awake. Jared said you would be but I know you were really tired, too." She took his hand. "Are you up to dinner?"

"Of course. The sedative wasn't that strong."

They walked a while in silence.

"You really do work too hard, no blather," she said.

"I don't know any other way to work. I guess I'll have to slow down now, though." He tried to make the words resentful but they came out petulant.

"That won't kill you, sweets."

Dinner didn't turn into the ordeal Morris expected. He showed Harper no overt hostility. He merely ignored her unless she addressed him directly which she didn't. She did announce a ten-hour time to orbit meaning they dropped out of link not long after her meeting with Morris.

Passive scans showed them as the only presence in the system. That meant either that they were alone or that any other ships were not emitting signals. The isolation of the 9A-C-F37A system made simultaneous discovery nearly impossible so any low-emitting vessels would likely have nefarious intent.

Morris found himself evaluating the others. It troubled him that they acted as though nothing was wrong then he realized that to them nothing was. The cold, logical part of his mind calculated, compared and tallied facts as he assessed each of the others as a potential saboteur. He worked with each of them as friends, as colleagues, and it bothered him that one could betray them all.

The evening ended early and without ado. No one wanted to miss orbit and Morris suspected that Harper would sleep strapped into the pilot station with the bridge gravity turned off. He waited a few minutes before going to bed and his terminal started flashing.

'How are you this evening, Specialist?'

'What happened between you and Harper?'

'Whatever do you mean?'

'Don't mock me! I want to know what happened.'

'We had a difference of opinion. She told me I was working too hard and I disagreed.'

'And?'

'Nothing more.'

'Don't insult me. I know there was more than that.'

'Would you like to discuss it in person?' Morris smiled and prepared for the barrage.

Delroy didn't respond for a long time.

'If that's the only way you'll tell me,' she said.

That surprised him.

'No, Specialist,' he replied, 'I've said all I intend to about it.'

Again she waited a long time before responding.

'What do you think of our mission now?'

'In what way, Specialist?'

'What do you think will happen?'

'Tomorrow we establish orbit. We will then scan thoroughly to determine its true habitability, check out our landing zone, assess its meteorology and decide whether or not to continue. If so we will then land and begin construction of the base camp, establish some infrastructure for the follow-up teams and begin preliminary site survey and investigation.'

'Do you really believe that?'

'Of course, Specialist. Don't you?'

The module blanked then terminated, much as he expected. He privacy-locked his and went to bed.

***

Morris rose well before orbit the next day and well before any of the others save Harper and Kody. He and the midshipman checked and re-checked engineering in preparation for orbital maneuvers. By the time the others rose Harper had microjumps plotted and ready. Kody left to tend the others and prepare them.

Harper flew the ship incredibly well. She decelerated gradually along a smooth curve that ended with the ship in a high orbit. From there she shot readings against the surface to locate the site and their landing zone. Once she found it she transitioned into a low-survey orbit and hit it within three deviations. Under two, knew Morris, would earn her free drinks and brags.

"Bridge," announced Harper. "Secure from maneuvers. Orbit is stable."

***

Morris found a scene of organized chaos in the lounge. But it wasn't the lounge any longer. Most of the tables were gone, folded into the walls or moved into storage. In their place stood, sat and rested the specialized instruments and equipment they'd use in their orbital survey and investigation. Harper deployed the high-resolution scan array and several terminals lit up. Jackson and Rackwell occupied them and began working through the scan protocols. Before long Harper fired a pair of probes down into the atmosphere which activated two more terminals. Lace and Harkin took those. Delroy monitored all the feeds and coordinated them into the datacores.

"I like this already," said Harkin of his terminal. "Just take a look at that weather. I could make an entire course on just that. Ron, Tina, come look."

Eisley and Garrett spared Morris a pained look before joining Harkin.

"He's been that way since we started for orbit," confessed Polov quietly. "Apparently the weather part of his expertise is his favorite."

Not wanting to jostle or to miss a single thing Morris dogged a chair next to Delroy's holocad. If she saw this as an invasion she kept it to herself. Occasionally he had to perform a quick fix or calibration on something. He knew those would only increase.

Lunch came in the form of quick snacks fetched as time and finished tasks permitted. Morris actually had time for his which bothered him a little. When Delroy showed no sign of slowing he fetched her a tray. She flashed him an almost-smile and took infrequent bites as she could. As she worked Morris gained a new level of respect for her. Although AI routines could accomplish the task eventually she managed to integrate all the feeds, establish pre-correlates and insert index points all in real time.

Dinner came when Harper declared an end to the day's activities. They had completed several orbits during which they gathered all the rough scan information they could. Now they needed time for Delroy's AI routines to digest and process the data. Once that happened they would know where to concentrate the finer and more complex scans.

Morris settled into bed. Kody had engineering now and would until they grounded. It irked him to stay away but Harper had not rescinded her order nor would, apparently. Kody could handle things but Morris wanted to be there. That would spoil the rift between himself and Harper, though, so he held his peace.

The terminal started flashing. Morris considered ignoring it. Tiredly, he released it.

'Specialist?'

'Thank you.'

'For what?'

'Bringing me lunch today.'

'You're quite welcome.'

'What do you think so far?'

'I'm excited. And tired.'

'I have some preliminary results. Would you like to see them?'

Actually he wanted anything other than, but...

'Certainly Specialist.'

A graphic box opened to a detailed light-penetration scan around the site. Her AI color- and texture-enhancement flowed in and around it to an amazing 87.5 confidence.

'It has all the characteristics of a new base,' she said, 'and it's in a volcanically active zone. We're lucky it didn't fault and implode.'

'How active?'

'Oh. Not very much in realtime but more so considering the span of years covered by the Collapse and Interim. Statistically it could have been active enough to shift and destroy the base. But it didn't.'

'I see that. We are fortunate.'

A pause.

'Are you really tired?'

'Yes, Specialist. Very much so.'

'Oh. Good night, then.'

'Good night, Specialist.'

***

The next day began before breakfast. Morris' door beeped him awake. When he opened it he found a frantic Rackwell reporting a malfunctioning scanner.

That set the tone for his day. Everyone had experiments and scans that needed doing, immediately or sooner, with this or that analysis afterward. He had few actual repairs thanks to careful maintenance but everything needed calibration. While anyone could calibrate their instruments Morris did it as second nature and much more quickly. He grabbed breakfast between adjusting a low-freq atmospheric scanner and synchronizing the array for the first deep-penetration scan.

During all of this Lace scoop-compressed some atmospheric samples and wanted help setting up the analyzer. Then Harkin wanted his 4D atmospheric scan array fine-tuned. That took a long time during which Harkin regaled Morris about the intricacies of the planet's weather and its effects on the expedition. When Morris finally sat down for a very late lunch Kody called from engineering for verification of a protocol.

By the end of the day Morris didn't have to pretend irritation with Harper or any other person. Nothing he did was hard just disorganized. His Academy training covered task priority and scheduling but by its nature the work today did not organize nicely.

After dinner Morris retreated to his cabin solely to relax. He privacy-locked his terminal and took a long, hot shower. He just stepped out when his door beeped. He opened it ready to snap and bite.

"Hello there," said Lace. "It was the consensus of the scientific personnel aboard that our hard-working Technician could likely use a thorough, relaxing, indulgent and totally luxurious back massage. I was elected by acclaim to administer it."

Morris didn't try to untangle the knot of memories that formed. Instead he obeyed Lace and lay down.

"Heaven's flames, Morris. What has you so tense?"

He started to answer only to bite back tears as she found a particularly tight muscle. Somehow she found every tense spot he had plus a few he didn't know he had.

"Scheduling," he finally muttered, "or the lack thereof. Criti... cal low-effort de... Aiee. Detailed tasks that..."

"Slib," she said. "I believe you. Don't undo my work."

He felt her smile.

"Unless you just want me to stay."

How long Lace worked Morris could not say but she left him a total mass of limp relaxation.

"I would undress you too," she winked, dimming the lights. "But people would talk."

She left and he remained conscious only long enough to pull up the covers.

***

The next day wasn't nearly as hectic. Morris had already handled all the instruments absolutely needing calibration or adjustment. Now things just required minor work and not much of that. Around midmorning Harper told him to begin placing gensats. She spoke simply and without ado then left before he could respond, all without seeming to rush.

With an air of fuming impatience Morris began working. The gensats would provide positioning and communication with an easy upgrade to full GIPS later, should the follow-up missions need full global information and positioning. He placed the satellites carefully, the better he set them now the less correction they'd need later, and started the synchronization routines. Although placing the things took a lot of time Morris minded not at all. He also had no doubt the satellites had a complex multithread feed into the larger unit in a different orbit: the beacon drone.

***

Harkin and Lace presented preliminary information and conclusions on the data they compiled during dinner. That meal happened around and between the terminals and equipment in the lounge but no one minded.

"The atmosphere is better than we thought," said Harkin, "and worse. Oxygen content is a lot higher near the surface so that won't be a problem. Nor will be deriving a breathable mix. The partials with the inerts won't take any acclimation.

"The bad news is the non-inert trace gasses. There are some pretty toxic sulfur compounds. The worst ones are in small concentrations but we can't ignore them. We'll need respirators with eye guards for certain sure. We'll also need to keep a close eye on seals and gaskets. Between the oxygen and toxic sulfur compounds we'll have a mixture that could be custom-made to chew through them."

"What about microbes?" asked Jackson.

"We didn't find any in the scoop-comp," said Lace. "The probes found about what they should have. Plenty of diversity and all of it nicely within the expected profile. Specific remote tests indicate nothing overtly hostile. We also initiated the Maldrake protocol and the initial signs are negative."

That made Morris and Jackson wince. It referred to the protocol developed to prevent the bioweapon disaster that followed the discovery of the Imperium lab on Maldrake IV.

While Lace detailed the specific microbes, spores and other microscopic life they found so far Morris mentally went over the chemicals in the atmosphere. He checked them against the sealants, lubricants, resins and other degradable or corrodible components they had aboard. The air would affect exposed volatiles but constant awareness would handle that. The vehicles would also require heavy dust and particle filters on their intakes so no problems there. The rest of the gear should be fine. League plastics and alloys were very resistant to environmental factors.

"So," said Lace. "Any questions?"

Harkin looked up expectantly, eagerly at that. He wanted to expound on the planet's weather patterns but no one asked. No matter, he'd have his heart's fill of lecturing on it in time. Everyone broke into small groups to discuss details on the landing tomorrow.

***

"Bridge," came Harper's voice over the comm. "Beginning descent spiral."

"Engineering aye," replied Morris. "Drive array is nominal."

Morris switched the console from roving monitor to dedicated drive array. He and Kody sat in engineering strapped down and wearing vacc suits. The power flowed smoothly and the drive responded eagerly.

Under the Maldrake protocol everyone aboard wore sealed suits but Harper allowed them to keep the visors open. The ship itself was still sealed, of course, but they would take no chances whatsoever on breaches or extreme-edge probabilities.

Morris switched a pair of auxiliary monitors to their descent, one raw video feeds from outside and the other the navigation projection. As the ship entered Dustball's atmosphere the hull began to heat. He split his main monitor to show both hull integrity and drive performance. The air ionized earlier than Harper's projection but she corrected easily. The LZ lay beyond the horizon but she still had a lot of velocity to kill.

As the atmosphere thickened Harper decreased her angle of descent. Morris admired the way she managed to keep the temperature within one deviation of the protocol requirement. No known organism, viral or biologic, could withstand the current temperature or any the hull would have within thirty minutes of grounding. Keeping the levels constant took touch and Harper had that in abundance.

"Bridge. Forty seconds to vector change."

"Engineering aye." Morris activated several modules. "Low-thrust array active and nominal. Gravitics on automatic and responsive."

"Bridge aye."

Harper hit vector changeover with a barely perceptible jolt. The ship reconfigured itself from orbit and approach to aerodynamic maneuver. The hull temp rose a few degrees but stayed well below the upper margin. The LZ slid toward them now within distant visual range.

"Bridge. Prepare for probe release."

"Engineering aye." Morris double-checked the seal integrity. "Seals are secure."

A loud clang sounded as Harper released a pair of high probes. They appeared as dots on the nav display dropping down and behind the ship. Once they reached safe distance they fired and streaked ahead toward the landing zone. The ship veered starboard as Harper started her speed-killing spiral. The LZ slipped to the left then rotated as the ship banked. They had eighteen probes left and Harper intended to use them all. Just before the LZ crossed from fore to aft she increased the bank and centerlined it, spiraling downward and losing speed.

"Engineering. Final probes released."

"Bridge aye. Prepare decontamination, on my mark. Mark."

"Engineering aye." Then, off-comm. "Mister Kody."

Kody reached out and pulled a lever. Five seconds of drive plasma vented through the probe launcher. The switch jumped out of Kody's hand as the ports closed automatically.

"Engineering. Plasma vent complete. Commencing internal purge."

"Bridge aye."

"Is that necessary, sir?" asked Kody. "The ports couldn't suck in anything cool enough to survive and the plasma shot should kill that."

"Necessary, no," said Morris. "I agree with you but the protocol was established for a good reason. We need a better one not to follow it."

"Aye, sir."

Kody turned another valve and the acidic anti-biologic purge fluid flooded the launch port. It flashed to steam instantly and streaked out the external pressure valves until the launch tubes cooled.

"Engineering. Internal purge complete. No breach, status normal."

The LZ approached steadily as it remained centered between fore and aft on their left. Its location relative to center fluctuated microscopically as Harper corrected for turbulence and thickening atmosphere but she kept it very well within the most efficient approach window. When she finally lost enough orbital velocity she flattened out to a long glide. Morris knew she would now determine the optimum approach.

Harper banked hard, lost a lot of altitude and dropped below stall speed. She compensated with the underjets and used the plasma to clear the vegetation from the site. She rolled back and forth to maximize the cleared zone. This procedure started several fires but they wouldn't burn long. She blasted upward to gain altitude for the final approach. She lined up, slowed to stall and kicked in the underjets again, this time backed up with the gravitics. Before long she killed the jets completely, slowed to a crawl and turned the ship back along its line of travel. Should the need arise they were startup time plus not many minutes from takeoff.

"Bridge to all. We are grounded. Secure from landing stations."

Morris thumbed his helmet comm to the bridge freq.

"Excellent job, Ms. Harper. You're an artist."

"Thanks Morris."

***

Morris sealed engineering and went to the lounge to help the others out of their suits. He met an air of jubilation mixed with tangible excitement and even Delroy smiled. They made it. The others greeted Morris and Kody with a half-cheer which they completed when Harper entered the room.

"So now we stew a while," said Jackson. "Can you take it, Rack?"

"Quite so, my boy," said Rackwell. "Torture indeed but well worth the sufferance."

Jackson referred obliquely to the time required to verify the atmosphere. Four of the probes landed within half a klick of the ship and as soon as the hull cooled Lace would expose biogel to the atmosphere. The sticky goo here and within the probes would decompose rapidly with exposure to any hostile organisms. For now Harper had the ship's air at a slight overpressure relative to the planet so nothing from outside could enter. Theoretically. If the biogel lasted forty-eight hours it meant no hostile microbes present. Six of the remaining probes would land around the suspected site and another three between it and here.

After a boisterous lunch Morris unlocked engineering and went to work. He isolated and grounded all the flight systems and began the port powerdown procedure. He cut the fusion plant to forty percent, more than they would need until takeoff, and started the full recursive purge and regen cycle. That would take days to complete but once finished it would leave the plant as good as new. Finishing grounding protocols took most of the afternoon but left all flight systems safely offline and the ship itself ready to power the base camp. When he had everything set he manually locked and sealed every access to engineering and engaged security. Barring an emergency departure no one needed access to engineering and Morris intended to enforce that. Once he finished he encryption-locked the main bulkhead with a long, secure key generated by his toolbelt. He crypcerted it and handed it personally to Harper who, with Kody as witness, locked it in the ship's safe.

***

Dinner started very early and soon degenerated into celebration. Someone, likely Lace or Harkin, coaxed an incredible range of hors'd-oeuvre from the food synthesizer supplemented by contributions from several anonymous stashes. Before long bottles appeared and Harper, in grand Naval tradition, pretended not to notice. Morris nearly laughed aloud when Kody gravely offered her a sample of 'local fruit juice' which she accepted just as gravely before turning back to her conversation with Polov and Lace.

Morris tried to moderate his intake but with a cheerful Jackson close by or Lace at his side he drank more than he intended. He did stop when the room fuzzed but it was too late. He had to think hard to speak clearly and the least little mistake sent him into giggles.

After a food trip that took three times longer than it should Morris felt a sudden overwhelming urge to sit down. He sighted a chair and started toward it but ended up beside Delroy and her holocad. Her powered-down holocad. She watched with mild amusement as he, with utmost concentration, set his plate on the table beside him. It wobbled once and sent him into a spate of laughter.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Technician?"

"Why yesh, Shpecialist. I am indeed." Morris formed the words carefully and reviewed them. "What about are you?"

"Quite so." She sounded less cold. "But not as much as you, I think."

"Wellll... Perhapsh you should try it. It'sh not at all unenjoyable." That twist of logic fascinated Morris. He reviewed it several times, admiring its circularity. When he finished mulling it he looked up and into her scrutiny.

Unashamed and uninhibited Morris stared right back at her.

"Is something wrong, Technician?"

"You are very beautiful when you're not shcowling Special... list..."

Shock cut through Morris' haze and snapped him back to alertness. He certainly didn't mean to say it but the words slipped out. Having said it, though, he could think of no way to unsay it.

Delroy's eyes widened, whether from shock, surprise or fury Morris knew not.

"I... think you need to... go to your cabin... Technician."

"I, ahh... I think you're right." Morris spoke clearly now. "I hope you won't take that badly."

She shook her head, expression still surprised.

Morris navigated back to his cabin by the simple expedient of placing one hand against the wall. He tried to go straight there but Jackson and Lace both intercepted him before he left. He kept to his purpose but still ended up with a few more ounces of liquid uncertainty than he wanted.

Lydia would have enjoyed this.

That thought sent Morris a twinge of loss followed by a wash of gratitude. She might not be here to enjoy it but at least she taught him how.

That thought comforted Morris as he fell onto his bunk and into oblivion.

***

Morris' head pounded him awake the next morning. That and his bladder combined to send him lurching to the fresher with serious thoughts of throwing himself in. He slept in his clothes and they crawled over his skin now and the taste in his mouth belonged inside a bioreactor. The water and steam of the shower woke him and cleared his head which only helped him realize just how badly it hurt.

Jackson and Lace sat in the lounge, by themselves, discussing something on a datapad. Neither showed any sign or symptom of the previous night. When Jackson spotted Morris his face split into an enormous grin.

"Party man."

The words stabbed Morris' brain multiple times as they ricocheted around inside his skull. He grimaced but couldn't muster the energy to respond.

"You have two choices," said Lace more softly. "Well, three if you count nothing. Hair of the dog or hide of the rabbit."

Morris examined the bottles she placed on the table. The first and largest contained the nearly-clear liquid he swore to be his own personal nemesis. The second contained a dozen bright fluorescent multi-colored capsules. He chose the latter.

"Pay up," said Jackson to Lace. "I told you he's a PARTY-gONe man."

Jackson shook out two tablets and Morris swallowed them dry. Kelven swore by PARTY-gONe and seldom left his apartment without a bottle. Morris chided him for it but now he understood. After a hundred years or so the tabs took effect and his headache diminished. He started sweating profusely and the taste in his mouth only got worse.

"Try this," said Lace, with signs of telepathy. "It's blackbean tea."

Morris sipped gingerly at the vile-looking liquid in the cup. It was hot and bitter and after the third sip strangely refreshing.

"You," said Morris, fixing Jackson with as sharp a glare as he could manage, "are evil." He looked at Lace. "And you're no better. I feel awful."

"But you're missing something, spiker," said Jackson, grin widening. "You needed last night. The benefit far outweighs the small discomfort you're feeling now. I'm serious about that, Morris. We all needed some downtime but you most of all."

Unable to hold the glare, Morris smiled and nodded.

"Was that your first time?" asked Jackson.

"Yes. And my last."

"Well," said Lace, "you six-sigmas did it up right. I don't know what you said to Crystal but the look on your face afterward... And hers. I'd pay a million halcies to have a holo of that."

Morris felt the heat rising to his face. "I'm not saying."

Jackson had a rejoinder to that but Morris didn't hear it. Eisley walked into the room flanked by Polov and Garrett. She oozed misery as she speared Jackson with a stare Morris envied.

"If those are Purgees," she said softly, "I'll have some."

Jackson complied and Eisley swallowed the tabs gratefully.

"You want one, Greg?" she asked.

"No." Polov shook his head, winced and spoke more softly. "Um... Yes. I believe I will."

Garrett drew three large cups of double-strength chog and sat easily.

"Do you three call yourselves college students?" asked Lace reproachfully. "When I was in class what we had last night wouldn't even qualify as a study session. You're letting your studies interfere with you education, no blather."

Eisley started to grace Lace with one of her stares but quickly transferred it to Garrett, who stifled a chuckle.

The rest arrived in various states of recovery and Morris actually contemplated food. Over breakfast they planned their activities for the morning.

***

Morris spent most of the day watching Harkin watch weather patterns develop.

"I've studied atmospheres similar to this," said Harkin, more than once. "I've studied planets like this but never the two together. I could teach entire courses on just this planet."

As soon as Harkin looked down at his terminal Lace exchanged amused glances with Garrett then winked at Morris. He smiled in return and verified that nothing needed his immediate attention. The biogel showed no sign of spoilage but not so the people aboard the ship. The worst bioweapon agents would react quickly so that boded well. The people restricted to a cramped ship with a vast empty planet just outside the hatch developed tension just as quickly. It manifested mostly in small details that grew beyond where they should have.

Morris knew the reason as did the others. That helped a little. No matter they'd all just spent the better part of two weeks traveling, now the planet beckoned them. It beckoned only to be halted short by a few litres of sticky goo. The post-landing party, just as much a tradition as Harper ignoring its content, helped remove the edge.

Dinner was a subdued affair. Conversation traveled in cliques with common data forming the topics. Afterward everyone left for their cabins save Lace, Kody and Garrett. Lace talked them into a quick game of two-across.

Morris sat, freshly showered, watching his terminal. This time Delroy didn't bother masking her terminal.

'Good evening, Specialist.'

'Hello. I have something interesting to show you.'

A graphic box opened to a scaled-down holo of their hemisphere. The site flashed in the center with several hazy blobs around the periphery.

'This may not be an isolated installation. There's a high probability interval for a forward base, no surprise there, but it could also be an isopoint base.'

That surprised Morris. The data fit and the Imperium had no known isolation chokepoint reserve bases anywhere near this region. He nodded then realized she couldn't see it.

'I see. That is a fascinating possibility.'

'It was initially classified as low probability but these min-mets might indicate outlying facilities.'

'It would fit the pattern. Have you told the Commander?'

'Not yet. I think we should investigate it.'

'Reasonable, but we have limited time and resources.'

Another graphic box opened, this one with a well-marked and scaled diagram.

'This is the likelihood cloud with all measurable dependencies factored in.'

'It's very convincing.'

'Will you tell her?'

Morris thought a moment.

'No. I doubt she'd order anything on my word.'

'Why?'

'No, Specialist.'

The second graphic vanished and the third enlarged and morphed to show the entire planet.

'We know they'd have satellites. Some may have survived reentry. We should search for wreckage.'

'I'll mention it to Culle.'

'Did you mean what you said last night?'

That caught Morris off-guard. He blushed, even with no one to see it.

'Yes, Specialist.' Difficult to type but he forced himself. 'I didn't mean to say it but it's still true.'

'Thank you. Good night, Morris.'

'Good night, Specialist.'

***

Midmorning the next day the tension rose to a peak. Morris found himself fidgeting, which surprised him. Only Jackson, Rackwell and Garrett showed no signs of irritation at their confinement. Rackwell wanted out but only to examine the site. Jackson and Garrett took things in stride. The biogel showed minor streaking but Lace and Jackson attributed this to ordinary germs. The biogel in all the probes showed similar streaks which meant anything present was uniform across the area of dispersal.

"We could go now," said Eisley. "If that gel hasn't spoiled by now it won't."

"Steady, Tina," said Lace. "I agree but the protocol calls for the full forty-eight hours."

"You don't want to incur the Commander's wrath," said Morris. "Just wait."

Harper stiffened at this.

"It won't be long now." Lace hurried to interject this. "This afternoon, Tina. Just be patient a little bit longer."

"Besides," said Jackson. "In three hours and thirty-eight minutes we'll all be so busy we'll wish we were still here."

# Chapter 11. A Brand New World

Morris walked down the ramp, glad of the feel of the wind against his skin. Aptly named, Dustball had a dry gritty breeze but still it felt good. They all wore respirators and protective coveralls but that left ample skin to feel the sun and wind.

"Walkabout," said Harper. "Stay in touch and don't wander more than an hour away."

Morris ground his foot into the soil and enjoyed the crunch and rustle of it. He started walking away from the ship not caring about the direction. Polov crunched along beside him content in his silence. Although Morris had traveled to and served on many settled worlds, including a brief follow-up visit to a second-contact world, he savored the thought of being among the first to walk on this particular planet since, perhaps, before the Collapse. Morris sensed an uneasiness in Polov.

"What's on your mind, Mr. Polov?"

Polov glanced at Morris sidearm, then back up.

"It's a laser, Mr. Polov. Required by First Grounding protocol and also wise in case our landing didn't scare off the local wildlife."

"I know, sir, it's just one of the differences."

He meant between the League and Halcyon. Since Morris qualified in marksmanship and held a security clearance the protocol required him to carry a sidearm. Before dropping the ramp Harper issued sidearms to Morris, Jackson, Kody and, surprisingly, Delroy. Rackwell could have requested one but elected not to. Harper then admonished the others to team up with at least one armed person. They saw no evidence of dangerous fauna but she'd take no chances.

"I'm not fond of it," said Morris, "but it is required."

"Do you really think we'll crack the site, sir?"

"Of course." The question surprised Morris. "Why wouldn't we? That is our sole purpose for traveling here."

"I know, sir, but now that we're here and facing it the amount of work to be done is, well, massive. I just wonder if we'll have time afterward."

"Patience, Mr. Polov," chuckled Morris. "You've been studying League technology, now is your chance to live it. Once we get a solid start you'll be amazed how quickly things come together."

When half of Harper's stipulated hour had passed and with the ship barely in sight Morris walked up to a large, flat rock.

"I claim this rock," said Morris, touching it. "Mr. Polov?"

Puzzled, Polov repeated the gesture and words on a smaller rock. Morris took out a sheet of weatherproof paper and pen.

"What are you feeling, Mr. Polov?"

"It's... It's hard to say, sir. Amazed that we're here, especially after... Sorry, sir. I'm excited about the Imperium site. Apprehensive about what we have to do. I almost feel as though I'm at a threshold to something big and mysterious."

"Good, Mr. Polov."

Morris wrote "We are at the threshold" prominently across the paper, signed it and handed it to Polov. After he signed the paper Morris sealed it in a small tube and buried it beside the boulder.

"That tube is an unusual alloy," explained Morris. "A year from now, maybe ten, maybe a hundred or more someone will find it and dig it up."

Polov thought on this a moment. "I understand, sir."

Back at the ship Morris found a scene of developing chaos and contention. Impatient to be about things, Rackwell wanted to begin preparing the camp immediately. Harper demurred, stating there would be ample time the next morning. Morris agreed with her but...

"I'll help, Dr. Rackwell"

Harper stiffened at Morris' words but didn't countermand them. Instead she turned sharply and went back into the ship.

"Things will be smoother if we organize," said Morris. "Let me, sir."

Though easily accessible and conveniently arranged from inside the cargo hold was a mess from the outside. Complicating matters, some of the items would suffer if exposed directly to the corrosive atmosphere. Under Morris' direction they managed to offload enough equipment to mollify Rackwell.

By the time they cycled back into the ship Harper had finished her dinner and left for her office. The conversations centered around interesting things they saw and Morris suspected more than one container now rested within Dustball's soil.

***

The next morning before anyone left Morris and Jackson checked the respirators. The filters had minor clogging but the seals showed no pitting. After a quick consultation they decided to add ion repellers. That would decrease battery life but prolong the unit's useful time before requiring major servicing.

Polov looked at Morris expectantly. All the cargo they could offload sat stacked against the hull with tarps tied over it. Of the group only Harper, Kody and Delroy remained aboard the ship. The Naval officers would service the bridge and complete the parking protocol. Delroy worked with the data feeds from the satellites.

Morris spread out a hardcopy of the proposed base camp.

"Thoughts, Mr. Polov?"

Polov looked from the map to the area it would occupy. He turned the map so that the lines would align, squinted and estimated some measurements.

"I'd say we start with level areas for buildings. Fifty meters by twenty."

"The plan calls for one hundred meters by fifty," said Morris. "Why reduce it?"

"Initially we don't have the prefabs for it. It would save time."

Rackwell scowled at this.

"Besides," added Polov quickly, "with one dimension equal it can be extended as needed."

"Fallacy, Mr. Polov," said Morris. "That would disrupt the original layout. Once we start clearing a space we might as well clear as much as we'll need. Besides, it won't delay our visit that much."

Chuckles.

Morris made the rover his first order of business. While intended for survey and exploration of uninhabited planets it would also serve well as a construction vehicle if so configured. Morris worked to so configure it. He had a pushblade along with a simple lifter arm both of which he meant to install. He'd swap them later for specific survey gear as needed but for now they needed the construction attachments.

While the others started surveying and marking the area for the base Morris located the two crates labeled Exoskeleton, Muscular Amplification, Personal. He made sure each had plenty of room to unfold, jacked them into his toolbelt and commanded them to deploy. He and Jackson each donned one, ran the motion and strength tests and lifted the pushblade into place. Once they had it in position Morris locked his suit, carefully slipped out of it and fastened the blade onto the rover.

Mounting the lifter took more effort and left Morris wishing for a chillsuit. The exmap was little more than myoboosters and sensors incorporated into a heavy-duty open frame with no cooling unit. The physical effort required to move the lifter into place, the sunlight streaming down and that reflected off the rover's roof left Morris uncomfortably hot.

"You warm enough up there, Mo?" asked Jackson.

"Ultimately pyro," replied Morris. "No need to take my temperature."

Jackson guffawed at this and Morris couldn't stop a short laugh. They managed to lock the lifter in place. Again Morris left his exmap and fastened it securely. With that done he turned his exmap over to Harkin who claimed he knew how to use one. Although uncertain at first his movements became solid and confident. He and Jackson would move the larger boulders from the camp area.

When Morris tested the rover the blade worked perfectly but the lifter did not. They wouldn't need it soon but not having it work irritated Morris. He climbed atop the rover and began checking connections.

Once he had the lifter working he stopped to examine the soon-to-be construction site. Jackson and Harkin had all the rocks stacked in a pile to the side and had started on the few trees there. Fine black ash covered everything, the result of Harper's plasma-washing the area, but saved them hacking through and clearing undergrowth.

Work stopped for lunch. Jackson and Harkin were tired as was Morris and the others wanted respite from the gritty air. Decontamination removed the dust but did little for the hydraulic fluid on Morris' clothes and hair.

"Phew," said Eisley, rubbing her eyes. "That was fun."

"Work, lady," grinned Jackson. "Just wait 'till we have a level area."

Polov mumbled something that made Lace laugh and Eisley slap his arm. Garrett took a swallow of chog and looked at Morris hesitantly.

"Yes, Mr. Garrett?"

"Erm... Dr. Taylor, I'd like to volunteer for the herc, sir."

"EXMAP operation isn't a common academic skill, Mr. Garrett. Are you certified on one?"

"Well..." Garrett seemed uncomfortable. "No sir. But I have worked with them. I worked construction to earn money for college. Most of my foremen wanted all of us familiar with the equipment. Most of that was simple exosuits and all I really did was lift and carry but I can do that. The Halcyon models aren't as fancy as yours but the basics look the same."

Morris thought a moment. "You can help me set up the zrock plant, Mr. Garrett. If you satisfy me on the basics I'll turn you over to Jared for supervision and training. If you satisfy him and Culle I will certify you."

"Pyronic," said Garrett. "You can do that?"

"I can but don't think it will be easy. I promise you I'll be harder and more demanding than any commercial certification training. I will expect you to perform up to Tech standards."

"Think on it, lad," advised Jackson. "I'll be just as tough on you."

"Yes sir. I won't let either of you down."

After lunch Jackson took the rover. He aligned it carefully with the marked boundaries of the base camp area, lowered the blade and moved slowly but inexorably forward. Lace grabbed a test kit, Eisley and Kody, finished with his shipboard duties and armed with a blast rifle, and headed away from the burned area to find some unharmed vegetation. Polov, Harkin and Rackwell located some Halcyon gear and began assembling it.

Garrett strapped on the exmap slowly but with confidence. He hesitated several times but always finished correctly. After running through the pre-use checklist he powered the display pad down and moved it aside.

"First lesson, Mister Garrett," said Morris, moving the display back into place. "The display is there for a reason. Use it. Every critical system reports through it, it shows information that can keep you from overbalancing and injury and it contains a hardwired datapad. You may reconfigure it if you wish but do not deactivate it. By tomorrow I'll expect you to be proficient in its use."

"Yes sir," said Garrett.

Finally satisfied with Garrett's grasp of the basics Morris directed him to begin moving components to the pile of rocks cleared from the campsite. With two exmaps working Morris wouldn't need the rover's lifter to complete the zrock mixing plant.

In theory creating zrock wasn't difficult. In practice the mixers, especially the small portable ones, tended to malfunction quite often until they had a lot of hours in service. The process involved pulverizing local rock to pieces ranging from pebble-sized to sand, mixing it with a flexible resin and adding an air-sensitive hardener. Morris planned to dig a holding pit for the resin-rock mixture and inject the hardener when they pumped it out for use.

Once they had the components in place Morris slaved a safety override from Garrett's exmap to his own and they began work on the pulverizer.

"Frontier technology," explained Morris as he and Garrett hooked parts together, "is deliberately made as safe, simple and rugged as possible. Note the heavy construction, ample and redundant connections and generally idiot-proof assembly. Do you think, Mister Garrett, that after watching and helping to assemble it you could do this on your own?"

"Yes sir. Especially with proper manuals."

"I tend to think you could do it even without them." Morris wrestled with a balky feed impeller. "Unfortunately this kind of overbuilding can be a nightmare to maintain, especially at first."

As they worked Morris detailed to Garrett exactly how each component in the theoretically error-proof machine could in reality malfunction and what to do when it did. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Garrett using the display pad to take notes. Morris hid his smile at this.

By the end of the day they had the zrock plant assembled. Morris would dig the pit tomorrow and install the necessary plumbing but they could test it now. He attached a small tank of resin to the appropriate feed and they dumped a few pounds of gravel into the hopper.

"You may begin the process, Mr. Garrett."

Morris observed the other man carefully. He deliberately left something undone. Many Techs and 'prentices began their training with an obsession for detail which resulted in a commensurate tendency to overlook the obvious. Garrett ran through the powerup checks and hit the button.

Nothing happened.

Garrett reset the master panel, repeated the check sequence and hit the button again. Nothing.

"It appears you have a problem, Mr. Garrett."

Garrett reset the panel again and started the checks a third time only to stop halfway through.

"You are evil incarnate, Dr. Taylor." Garrett spoke sheepishly. "It would help if the main power cable was actually connected to power."

Indeed the thick power cable lay coiled on the ground just below where it connected to the machinery. The sensors had diagnostic power but no more and certainly not enough to actually run the machines.

"We need heavy juice, sir," said Garrett.

"So do we run the cable to the ship?"

"It would be better to bury it but I don't think we have the time."

"Correct," said Morris, "and incorrect, respectively." He pointed toward a stack of tools.

"Cryonic." Garrett examined the tools and shuffled through them. "Herc-sized hand tools. Looks like several kinds of shovel, too."

"Good answer," said Morris. He selected one that looked like a cross between a cupped scoop and a farm plow. "This is a quick-trench, Mister Garrett. Observe whilst I dig halfway to the ship. From there you will take over."

Morris first programmed the line into the integrated datapad and minimized it. He started digging, careful to let the suit do the work. Before long he had a solid rhythm going. Halfway to the ship he stopped.

"Dr. Taylor, wouldn't this be a better job for a robot?"

"Perhaps, Mr. Garrett, but it is good training."

"Truth, sir. My turn?"

Garrett started shakily and worked harder than he should. It also took him longer to establish his rhythm but eventually he did manage a good solid step-and-swing which used leverage and momentum from the sidestep to extend the shovel stroke.

"Very good, Mr. Garrett," said Morris when he reached the end of the line. "You may rest a moment while I lay the cable."

Garrett, breathing heavy and sweating, nodded and waved. Morris placed the cable carefully into the trench, left slack at each end, anchored a steel pull-cable to a strut on the zrock plant and put it atop the power cable.

"Why did I do that, Mr. Garrett?"

Garrett scowled in thought, then brightened.

"So we don't have to dig the cable out," he said gleefully. "Just grab the unpowered cable, give it a good pull and it'll cut through the ground for the power cable."

"Correct. Observe."

Morris handed Garrett a wide-scrape and began gently pulling dirt back over and into the trench as he covered the power cable. It took Garrett two minutes to catch that. Morris moved to the other end and they met near the middle. When they did meet the setting sun just touched the horizon. Morris connected the power, Garrett repeated the starting sequence and this time the pulverizer ground to a start.

***

Morris got his first view of the base camp site the next morning. Though he knew what to expect it still surprised him. Using the rover Jackson squared the area, removed the topsoil and dug a good foundation. Markers gave reference points for plumbing, power and data conduits and other such infrastructure. That would go in place today and their 'bots would do most of the work. They had a decent complement of robots: two grunts to do the heavy work and five smaller turtles to take care of the details. The zrock plant had four dedicated turtles of its own optimized for zrock plant operation.

In total defiance of Morris' expectation the plant worked perfectly. Garrett picked up the puddle-sized mass of formed rock and swore he'd hang it on his wall. For their first order of business he and Morris broke out the plant's turtles, powered them up and ran configuration and diagnostics.

"They do have hardfibered smartsystems," explained Morris, "but they're not really suited to massive digging. We need a pit, Mr. Garrett, four meters by five and one deep with a five-centimeter taper from top edge to bottom. Calculate it for me."

Garrett looked at him incredulously. Then, with inspiration, he meshed the exmap's data system to the zrock plant's. It took him a few minutes to find what he wanted but Morris didn't mind waiting.

"Heaven's flames," said Garrett. "Prepared plans for things I didn't even know existed. That and holding pits. Slib... I think 'LISA BC21270-14.7 Type-R' will work?"

"Indeed it will, Mister Garrett. Any of 'P' through 'V' will and that's the League Independent Standards Authority, Building and Construction standards. Can you make it happen?"

It took Garrett less than five minutes to puzzle out how to inform the turtles of their design choice and to discover what they could and could not do.

"Do we have sealant resin?" he asked, "and do we have enough?"

"Indeed we do, Mr. Garrett. You handle the digging and I'll seal and reinforce the walls."

Garrett nodded and entered the appropriate commands. The turtles began scuttling about as they made the necessary preparations. Morris hooked a larger tank of resin to the mixer and attached an extrusion forge. While they worked to dig the holding pit the forge would produce the slats necessary to keep it from collapsing.

"This is total polarity, no blather," said Garrett. "The zrock plant is actually helping with its own construction. Some of my old bosses could take a lesson from this."

"Efficiency and adaptation pattern, Mr. Garrett."

Finishing the zrock plant took the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon. By the time Morris placed the last slat and sprayed resin over it he and Garrett had quite an appetite.

"We're going to need more rocks," said Garrett.

"I doubt there will be a shortage. Think of the exmap practice you'll have finding them and bringing them back."

***

After his late lunch Morris moved inside the hold to assemble the instruments they would put inside the prefab buildings. He'd just finished a rather large bioanalysis unit when he received an urgent call from Polov.

Morris examined the smoking grunt. After a morning of observation Harkin turned the robot over to Polov. Satisfied with his progress Harkin turned his attention to other tasks. Not long afterward the 'bot started smoking and shaking, then before Polov could hit the panic button something inside it exploded. Now it stood, torso twisted and bent, looking quite pitiful.

"What happened?" After checking for dangerous power levels within the grunt Morris pulled off its torso panels, one with some difficulty.

"I..." Polov seemed at a loss for words. "I was doing exactly what Dr. Harkin showed me. I was keeping a careful eye on the linear load and torsion impellers and I set the power trips at forty-one. We were setting a waste drain channel when it went suborbital. The controls didn't respond, it started making noise and smoking and then it exploded."

"Burned out actuators and transaxle joints, fibering gone, servo relays gone," said Morris. "Congratulations, Mr. Polov, you even bent the frame."

Polov wilted, utter desolation painted across his face.

"Not to worry, Greg," reassured Morris. "It's nothing I can't fix. No blather." Morris smiled at Polov's relief.

With an impressive show of mechanical dexterity Garrett removed the bioanalyzer from the hold then moved the grunt inside all without scraping either his load or his exmap against the hull. Morris sealed the hold and started the air filters and circulators. Before long he'd have a breathable atmosphere. Not required but certainly helpful when he started refibering. Morris had replaced the actuators and two of the broken joints when his comm beeped urgently.

Polov shifted nervously as Morris examined the cable and conduit feeder. Built something like a two-wheeled handcart the CC-feeder could place anything from a two-millimeter fiber channel to a fifteen-centimeter chemical transfer pipe all with exacting precision to depth, alignment and angle. Eisley started working it behind Harkin's exmap. After half an hour of observation Polov decided to try using it.

"... then it just quit," said Polov. "I swear I was doing exactly what Tina did. Then it just stopped working."

Morris examined the inside of the unit. Most of the circuit strips, charred and melted, now dripped from the impellers and gears of the fine and semi-coarse drive mechanisms.

"I can fix it," said Morris. "Unless you'd care to try?"

Polov looked up with an expression so pitiful that Morris felt terrible for his jibe.

"These are setbacks, Greg," he said gently. "All to be expected so don't worry about it. I'll have it done before dinner." He pointed toward Lace, now working with Eisley on an autoplotter. "Why don't you help Jena and Tina calculate the building foundations."

Polov nodded glumly and walked away. Morris didn't hear what Lace said but when she put her hand on Polov's shoulder he perked up. Harkin walked his exmap over to Morris.

"Poor guy's taking it hard, truth?"

"Yes. He wants to crack that site so badly he can taste it."

"No blather there." Harkin powered up the herc. "Jena will cheer him up, bet me on that."

Unwilling to lose a hold full of air Morris cycled the feeder through the much smaller airlock in an extremely tight fit. It jammed twice, once with Morris' hand between it and the door frame. After he maneuvered it into the hold he cleaned and sealed his hand. The air monitor showed yellow-green and reported the air breathable, barely. When Morris removed his respirator he smelled sulfur and the hold had grown hot. Fitting, he thought. He cranked down the thermostat and started back to work on the robot.

Morris took a quick shower and hurried to the lounge. Kody commed him barely before dinner leaving him little time to clean up. When he arrived, late, he settled next to Lace with Polov and Eisley across from them. Polov toyed with his food and didn't even touch dessert.

"Greg," prompted Lace.

With all the air of a condemned man walking to his own execution Polov reached beneath his chair. He placed the autoplotter on the table in front of Morris. Even without seeing the black streaks on the case he smelled the burnt insulation.

"Heaven's flames, Greg," said Garrett, "another one? What bit you?"

Polov wilted at that.

"That is enough, Mister Garrett," snapped Morris. "Mister Polov, I will expect you in the hold immediately after breakfast tomorrow."

Morris retired early with the intent and stated purpose of taking a real shower. He aimed that at Harper who visibly and obviously ignored it. He did take a long, hot shower during which he tried his best to wash away the anger that blew up within him. Garrett's words stung Polov and might have done worse had he continued. He trailed steam from the fresher all the way to his seat at the terminal.

Delroy didn't make him wait long.

'Good evening, Specialist.'

'Good evening, Morris.'

'I mentioned your theory to Culle.'

'Yes, he told me. When I told Lieutenant Harper she said we didn't have resources to spare.'

'Pity. I'd like to see you proven right.'

'What made you so mad at Ron Garrett?'

He started to reply but pulled his hands away from the keys.

'It is a very low probability,' continued Delroy after a pause, 'Very, very unlikely that three survey and colony rated machines, one of them a solid-state optically-fibered survey plotter, should fail in sequence when operated by one person.'

'He had no cause to ridicule Polov that way.'

Nothing appeared for a long time.

'You sound as though you feel strongly about it.'

'I do. Very strongly.' Morris considered his words. 'I don't enjoy seeing people disparaged for things they can't help or things they don't control. Accidents happen. Everyone makes mistakes.'

'Even you?'

'Even me. I try to learn from mine. Do you?'

Another long pause.

'Yes.' Then, 'Eventually. Good night, Morris.'

'Good night, Spec...' What he read finally sank in. Morris deleted the last word.

'Good night, Crystal.'

***

Polov slumped in front of the workbench, silent and dejected, staring at the autoplotter.

"I'm glad you're here, Mr. Polov," said Morris as soon as he entered. "I see you've noticed the broken autoplotter."

Polov nodded.

"Good. Fix it."

"Sir?"

"This is the autoplotter that shorted out yesterday. I want you to fix it."

Polov didn't move. Finally he spoke.

"Dr. Taylor, are you making me do this to keep me from breaking something else?"

"No, Mr. Polov, I am assigning you this repair because I believe you can do it."

Polov sat and donned holospecs but nothing else. Morris easily saw he didn't want to touch anything that might break. He decided on an alternate approach.

"Let me tell you a story, Greg. When I was training in the Academy most of the other students had a lot more talent than mine." A mild stretch but good-intentioned. "I saw more than a few of them wash out and all for exactly the same reason.

"The pattern was identical. They started something new, duffed it once or twice, got frustrated and then started making more mistakes. Not from lack of ability but from the fear they'd fail again. Before long it spilled over into their other classes, their marks fell and they washed out of the Academy. Not because they couldn't do it but because they were afraid to try."

Polov considered Morris' words.

"I'm no good at this, sir."

"Then learn," said Morris. "Everything you need is here."

"But what if I put it together and it doesn't work?"

Finally the critical question.

"Then you take it apart and do it again," said Morris, "until it does work."

Polov considered this.

"But I'm not you, sir."

"No, Mr. Polov, you are not. I do not question my assignments, I complete them."

Finally, after he failed to find a hole in Morris' logic Polov activated the holospecs and called up the repair manuals. Morris turned his attention to the still-broken robot.

Morris had most of the 'bot's circuits refibered and replaced when his comm beeped.

"Morris, this is Jena. We have a problem with the float. It died and we're a long way from camp. Can you come help us?"

"Acknowledge and affirmative," said Morris. "I'll be there soon."

Polov watched Morris inspect his work.

"Not bad, Mr. Polov."

Then to Polov's horror Morris reached in and snipped out most of the newly-repaired components.

"You can do better, Mr. Polov. Once you finish this unit you'll be using it. I want it repaired well enough not to fail under any circumstances."

"But..."

"I am a hard taskmaster, Mr. Polov. I expect your work to be done right. Fixing things is all platinum and polar orbits but proper repair is an art. I expect you to be an artist."

"Yes sir," said Polov.

"Think of it as an enhancement for your resume," smiled Morris. "While you're about it be glad I'm not making you build the unit from scratch."

With Polov working again Morris checked the log sheet for the floats. They had two: a large cargo float and a smaller scout unit. Lace signed out the smaller. By what she listed she found some interesting terrain and flora and wanted to investigate it. Morris doubted Harper approved until he saw Rackwell's initials there as well. With them for armed support, and no doubt unhappy about it, was Delroy.

Then again, perhaps not. Lace's target was reasonably close to one of Delroy's potential crash sites. Morris logged a request to Harper who approved immediately and ordered him to draw an overnight pack for the group.

***

Morris guided the float on a twisty path between two mountains. Trust Lace to pick the only mountain range close to the camp to study behind. More than once he considered shifting the float out of hover mode and into high-flight but Harkin's report on the thermals and currents dissuaded him. Morris' stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten lunch. He didn't want to stop in transit and with a problem of undefined scope he'd probably miss dinner as well. His stomach growled again and he growled back at it.

Morris started a downlink from the damaged hover's computer to his. Since he had no line of sight he relayed through the gensats and they responded slowly. Once he crossed the first peak he had the problem narrowed down to the turbos but nothing more.

Morris grounded his float next to the damaged one. Lace waved from where she studied some bushy plant. Delroy, seated atop the damaged hover's canopy, nodded once and resumed her watch. He saw no sign of Rackwell.

"He's there," said Delroy without looking, pointing to a small copse of trees. "There were no large bioform readings and he wanted samples."

"Recall him please, Specialist. It's procedure so I must insist. He's outside safe proximity anyway."

Delroy nodded and reached for her comm. Morris heard her speaking then quoting from the Hostile Terrain protocol. He jacked his datapad into the float's computer and dropped it on the seat. Lace stood, stretched and started toward them.

Skeptical of his results, Morris tore into the offending thruster. What he saw made no sense. The inside of the space was coated with a mixture of lubricant, grit and degraded sealant. By the look of it an inert biodyne seal ruptured.

Composed of a complex organic-plastic compound, the seal should have adapted itself to best seal its enclosure. Failing at that it should have generated an alert condition to initiate a non-catastrophic shutdown with diagnostic tags. Not only did the seal fail to adapt, it exposed the more sensitive sealant beneath it to Dustball's oxygen- and sulfur-rich atmosphere. That allowed a fine spray of sticky grit into the turbo's delicate inner workings with none of the primary safeties triggered until the abrasive damage finally set off the hardwired failsafes.

"Can you fix it?" asked Lace as Morris wiggled out of the machine.

"Not easily and not here. Was there any warning at all?"

Lace shook her head. "No. We were cruising along when the left thruster started hissing. There wasn't an alert so we figured it fixed itself. I ran the quickies when it got louder but they came back clear. There was a minor loss of thrust but no alert or stop-imperative. Then the reds went off and we drifted slowly to the ground."

Morris pondered this. "I can't do anything here. Help me load it on the cargo and we'll take it back to the ship." He looked around. "Specialist, where is Rackwell?"

She pointed. When Morris looked he saw nothing. He reached for his own comm.

"Doctor Rackwell, we're leaving now. Please return to the float immediately."

"Negative," replied Rackwell. "We've barely arrived and I have some interesting samples to collect here."

"Doctor Rackwell," said Morris, exasperated. "We will be leaving in a matter of minutes. You must return to the float now."

"In that case you can pick me up here. I shan't move far."

"Doctor, under article..."

"Spare me your regulations, please, Morris. You're wasting time I can use for investigation and you for repair." He cut the link.

Morris stared at Delroy, furious and dumbfounded. Rackwell had broken every tenet of procedure, convention, safety and common sense.

"I logged it," said Delroy.

"Thank you, Specialist." Morris hadn't even considered the log, he thought it unnecessary. "I suppose we'll just pick him up on the way out."

With Lace's help Morris loaded the smaller float onto the larger. Not a difficult task since its gravitics still worked. Morris set it to neutral buoyancy and the two of them moved it slowly onto the cargo platform. Morris killed the lift and they lashed it down. He jacked his datapad into the cargo float for uplinking. The gensats acknowledged and began the transfer.

When they reached the edge of the trees Morris saw no sign of Rackwell and no easy access to his last verified position. He caught an intermittent reading roughly where Rackwell might be. He backed up the hover far enough for high-fly and triggered the jets. Several gauges complained and the scanner fuzzed the which only increased Morris' irritation.

"Specialist, please record this officially."

Lace started to say something but thought twice on it. Delroy acknowledged and began giving mission identifications and specifics. A clearing opened ahead of them but the scanner refused to pinpoint Rackwell there. Lace spotted him, too close to the edge of the clearing for them to land comfortably but barely distant enough to avoid violation of hostile terrain protocol. Morris landed and edged as close to Rackwell as he could.

"Dr. Rackwell," said Morris sternly. "We are leaving. Now."

"Just a moment, Morris. I only need a few more samples."

The look Morris gave Delroy was almost as furiously incredulous as the one she returned. The man was intractable. The two of them started for Rackwell with Lace wisely staying behind.

"Doctor Rackwell." Morris concealed none of his anger. "You are in violation of Hostile Terrain Protocol sections 3.14a through..."

What happened next haunted Morris' nightmares for weeks.

***-----

Rackwell, rising with a look of stark indignation on his face.

Teeth. A massive mouth full of wicked, sharp, jagged teeth running at Rackwell with impossible speed.

Lethargy. Panic. Delroy starting to voice a cry.

Too late.

Time slowing to an infinitesimal crawl.

The thing caught Rackwell low and from behind. It tore into his leg, shook him and flung him into the air. From the corner of his eye Morris saw Delroy's laser steadying with his a fraction of a second behind.

A harsh, tortured scream from Rackwell. Too late.

Delroy and Morris firing as one. Her shot hitting behind the thing's jaw and scraping down its flank. Morris thumbing his pistol to continuous and landing his beam between its baleful eyes. The thing squealed and Delroy hit its back leg. It started to leap and twist. Morris held his beam steady, its powerful emitter pumping untold joules of energy into the creature's head.

Delroy, sobbing in frustration, walking her shots up the thing's torso to its head. Rackwell hitting the ground with a sickening wet crunch then rolling and bouncing. Lace screaming behind them.

The thing jerked and spasmed and spoiled Morris' aim. Rents and tears appeared in its flesh as its fluids and tissues, superheated to vapor, burst through to escape.

The beast twitching on the ground, dying. Morris scanning the edge of the clearing for others. Delroy pumping shot after shot into its jerking carcass. Rackwell rolling to a flaccid halt.

***

Time snapped back to its normal pace. Morris found himself aware of the senses he'd locked out. The hiss of Delroy's laser. His own pounding heart. The foul smell from the creature. He ran for Rackwell trusting Delroy to cover him.

The man was a mangled mess. Morris saw no sign of life but his questing fingers found a pulse, thready and erratic.

"Jena."

After seconds that seemed hours Lace skidded to the ground beside him with an aid kit in her hands. Though Morris knew the basics of first aid his skill fell far short of this.

Pale and shaken, Lace moved with hasty confidence. She administered four quick hypos, a coagulant and a prestasis drug. Morris shuddered at the dosages but didn't speak. She quickly cut away the remnants of his pants leg, wrapped the... mess... in an antiseptic skinsplint and sealed it. She ran a medscanner across his body.

"Holy heaven's flames," said Jena. "Double his oxygen concentration, Morris. Make sure the seal is tight. Then add opigine, salax vapor and leach him. Five units. Splint his arms."

As Morris worked Lace did something ghastly with a long needle probe. Rackwell's breathing stabilized but remained very shallow. Morris connected the requisite injectors to Rackwell's respirator and tightened it against his face. He located the leaches, self-injecting synthetic blood tansfusers, and attached them to Rackwell's neck. When they found the appropriate spot and began pumping he carefully splinted Rackwell's arms.

"Back brace," said Lace.

"Should we put him in stasis?"

"No. Even with the prep drug he's had too much gross physical damage. The autoconfig won't work, I'm not good enough to do it manually and I don't think the portable would help anyway."

They carefully placed the brace around Rackwell. After a long minute to evaluate him it attached and stiffened. When the pressure increased Rackwell moaned and twitched his hands: a good sign.

"Let's get him into the float," said Lace.

# Chapter 12. Members Down!

"Crash blue! Crash blue!" Lace didn't wait for Jackson's acknowledgement before launching into a medically complex description of Rackwell's condition.

Morris heard Kody answer and removed them from his mind. They needed to get back fast. Rackwell and Lace were strapped in.

Delroy stood, statue still, laser still leveled at the creature's smoldering carcass. When he approached Morris saw her hand tensing and relaxing as she continued pulling the trigger, again and again. The laser, its powerclip long exhausted, didn't fire.

"Specialist. Specialist."

A drop of blood trickled down Delroy's chin from where she'd bitten her lip. Her face had no color and spastic tremors, rigidly suppressed, racked her body and arms.

"Crystal."

Morris removed the laser from her nerveless grasp, took her shoulders and shook her.

"Specialist. Crystal. Come back. Now."

Awareness finally seeped into her gaze. She focused on Morris, then what lay beyond him.

"Is... Is..."

"It's dead, Specialist. We need to leave now."

Delroy nodded shakily and followed Morris back to the float. Lace spoke with Jackson, commenting on the monitor uplinked to him. Morris strapped Delroy in tightly. He thumbed the secure compartment on his harness and felt the cool plastic between his fingers. He inserted the override key into the float's computer, entered his ident and crypto and issued the command for full power.

The float's docile traffic and control computer designed for idiot-proof and safe use powered down and the hardwired override unit took over.

"Brace and hold," said Morris. "This is not going to be smooth."

Time moved at two speeds. As Morris pushed the float, a vehicle designed primarily for close-to-ground non-aerodynamic use, to the edge of its envelope time moved far too quickly. He dodged terrain and fought the winds by reflexes trained into him in the hopes he'd never need them.

As the distance to the ship decreased time moved far too slowly. Morris felt like Rackwell's life leaked out in streams with himself and Lace powerless to stop it.

How Morris completed that hellish trip he never knew. He didn't really see the ship until he landed beside it. Jackson and Kody put Rackwell on a stretcher and hurried into it. Polov and Eisley unstrapped Delroy whispering softly to her all the while. Harkin took Lace toward the ship.

When Morris tried to leave the float the straps tightened and prevented it. That reminded him of the override key which he retrieved and put back into its place. Finally he let the float go and started up the ramp into the ship. Harper stood right there with vague words of reassurance. She motioned him toward her office.

Morris tossed down the small glass Harper gave him in one swallow. The stuff hit him like an icy wave of hot thunder. The room blurred, his entire body tingled and the room snapped back into focus.

"What... is that?"

"Don't ask," said Harper. "I need a report as soon as you're able."

Morris nodded. With no detail omitted he recounted everything from the time he left the ship to landing beside it. She recorded it emotionlessly, stopping him when she needed clarification.

"Go to sick bay," she said. "Be there when Jared finishes."

***

After a trio of hours that passed like years Jackson emerged from the operating theatre. Several others sat beside Morris but his entire attention focused on Jackson.

"Don't look like that Morris," said Jackson. "Of course he'll live. He wouldn't dare die now. The site still isn't cracked."

Numb relief and release flooded through Morris. On seeing that Jackson turned serious.

"You all did a fine job. Rack doesn't have anything that time, rest and some tissue regeneration won't fix. Three to five days he should be walking around. Slowly but still walking." Jackson considered this. "Aww, frost. He'll probably be jawflappin' about it tomorrow."

Jackson's flip comment after such a gut-wrenching ordeal told Morris all he needed to know. If Jackson wasn't worried then neither would be Morris.

"Thanks Jared."

***

Morris looked at the plate of food Polov set before him. Lace sat across, picking at hers. Delroy was absent. Kody had probably read Morris' report but the others knew something bad had happened. Morris left the detailing to Harper. He felt drained both physically and emotionally. From her expression Lace did as well. Brief flashes of the incident replayed themselves but Morris couldn't react to them.

"You should eat, sir," said Polov.

Jena nibbled a bit but for all his hunger at missing lunch Morris couldn't.

"He'll live," mumbled Lace, mostly to herself.

"Jared said he will," returned Morris.

Eisley and Garrett sat nearby with Harkin, an implacable rock of serenity, behind them. Then his facade broke. Or perhaps he simply didn't bother holding it. Though calm and encouraging others by example, Harkin looked old now. Morris knew him older than the others by a considerable margin but now he showed it.

"We're fine, Culle."

"I know, Morris, but friends are there even when you don't need them."

After a while Jackson joined them. He was visibly tired and when he drew his plate it held far less than his normal, titanic ration.

"There was a lot of damage," said Jackson, serious now. "I repaired everything I could. The bones are fine, he'll just need time for that. His liver and kidneys are regenerating nicely but he'll probably have problems with his intestines."

Eisley paled at this. Polov's expression deepened and Garrett shook his head.

"It's not supposed to be this way," said Eisley.

Harkin placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"This is the part you don't see, Tina," he said gently. "This is why some Survey teams don't make it back."

"I should have gone," said Polov. "If I hadn't broken that plotter it would have been me."

"Stop it." The strength in Morris' voice surprised him and the others. "It was an accident, Greg. There's no way you can predict them or control when they happen. It was not your fault."

Polov looked unconvinced.

"It was just as much mine, then," said Morris, "for pulling you in and assigning you the repairs."

"Or mine," added Jena, "for not insisting on taking you."

"Or mine," said Harper, entering the lounge, "for authorizing the mission in the first place."

Harper exuded a calmness totally separate from any facade she might show.

"We knew the risks when we took the mission," continued Harper, "as did Dr. Rackwell. He'll be back in a few days none the worse for things. In the meantime we have a mission to do and I expect all of you to do it."

Eisley looked ready to lash out at Harper for this.

"What would Dr. Rackwell say," asked Harper with careful calculation, "if he saw you three dragging about like you'd lost your pet cat? He'd have your skin for a carpet. Am I understood?"

Polov nodded followed by Garrett and finally Eisley. Harper turned her attention to Morris and Lace.

"That goes for the two of you as well and Specialist Delroy. I've reviewed your reports and you acted in a timely, proper and exemplary fashion. You may well receive a League commendation for this so no second-guessing. No third-guessing or fourth-guessing either. Understood?"

Morris and Lace nodded.

Afterward, with an attempted return to normalcy Jackson discussed the progress made on the base camp.

"Most of the conduits and channels are in," said Jackson, "and we'll be ready for zrock tomorrow. I did some test pours, Morris, and it'll work perfectly. Which reminds me any time you're ready Ron's herc-qualified by me."

Caught unawares, Garrett mumbled something self-effacing.

"I'll check you tomorrow," said Morris.

"That brings up another point," said Lace, "and the reason we left today. Preliminary tests on the soil chemistry and existing biology show eighty-seven percent compatibility with zweed. The 7vi strain should grow quite nicely there."

Morris winced at that.

"What's wrong?" asked Lace. "I know the type-7 strains don't produce as much resin but we can compensate with extra production. We can probably even go full-automation with it."

"Type-7 is extremely prolific," said Morris. "Think about the native vegetation that it would choke out. You'd have to monitor closely and certainly not automate."

"Native herbivores should be able to eat it," said Lace. "The fibrous cell structure is digestible... Wait a milli. Does Tech training extend to synthetic botany now?"

"No," said Morris. "I grew up on Acre on a versoy farm. My parents lost a crop one year because a development strain of Type-7 got loose. The sap clogged the harvesters and cleaners and cost a lot to fix."

"I didn't know you were from Acre," said Lace. "Don't worry, the strains are tamer now."

"I still say watch it closely."

When Lace noticed she had an audience she switched to lecture mode.

"We're talking about resinweed," she explained, "irreverently known as zweed. That's the 'z' in zrock. The original strain was a rather bothersome weed native to Goldensheaf. The sap," Lace nodded at Morris, "tended to clog machinery and stick to everything. The planetary government hired GeneTec to take care of the problem."

"GeneTec is a multisector League company," interjected Jackson. "They specialize in custom genetics and synthetic botany. They've helped adapt a lot of food crops to different planets."

"And they developed spectra 3 through 11 resinweed strains," continued Lace. "The which is their claim to fame. They did help Goldensheaf but they kept enough original plants to splice into a range of hearty and sap-rich plants. That lifted zrock from the castles of the wealthy and extravagant to one of the cheapest construction materials throughout the League."

Polov looked puzzled at that.

"The original resin used in zrock came from Honloo," said Harkin. "The trees that produced it didn't produce much. The planet is mostly islands so there weren't many trees and the government there is more geared to high-price tourism than actual productivity. They deliberately choked down production to elevate the price."

"Until zweed," said Lace. "The GeneTec plant spectrum cranked it out like water. As a bonus the plant fiber can be processed for hardener after the sap is extracted."

"That is impressive," said Polov.

"That's the basic pattern for most successful League companies," said Lace. "Simplicity and efficiency. The follow-up team will have zweed cuttings and the resin extraction plant. Within one or two growing seasons all the zrock needed here will be produced here. Every planet has rocks, even Eauvert, so all that's needed is the resin."

"Cryo," said Eisley. "That sounds like one of Dr. Langstrom's econ lectures."

Lace chuckled and with that the mood in the room lightened. She, Morris and Eisley even managed two quick games of three-across.

***

After a nice, long shower Morris sat in front of his terminal waiting. Delroy didn't appear for dinner nor afterward and an overheard whisper between Lace and Jackson had them worried. Morris pinged Delroy's terminal. No response. A connection request showed it set in privacy-lock. Morris pulled on a shirt and trousers.

Delroy didn't respond when Morris beeped her door but he didn't expect it. She had it locked and somehow managed to disable the emergency override. Morris returned to his room for his override key. The basic level didn't work, impressive on her part, but the Tech advanced code opened the door.

Squinting against the dim light Morris saw Delroy sitting in the room's only chair with her knees drawn up. She stared sightlessly at the privacy-lock still flashing on the terminal. Trying not to disturb her Morris sat on the bed and slowly turned up the lights. Her face still had no color and only the moist tracks down from her eyes separated her from a statue. She held a drugstick, unlit and mangled, and neither she nor anyone else had tended her lip.

"Specialist, it's Morris."

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and a tear trickled down each cheek. He was at a total loss but dared not call Jackson. Not yet.

"Talk to me Specialist. How can I help you?"

Morris cringed at how harsh the words sounded.

"I'm going to seal your lip. I'm not leaving." The words sounded alien yet he felt them necessary.

Delroy flinched away when he touched her. He gently turned her face toward him then cleaned and sealed the wound. Next he cleaned her face with a moist cloth. Her jaw trembled but still she refused to look at him.

"Specialist... I don't know what to do now."

"Why?" She barely whispered the word. "Why? It... wasn't... supposed... to happen..." She began to shake violently. "It... I can't. I can't. It's... I can't stop it."

"Specialist. Crystal. It's gone. The creature is gone."

"H-he's... He's d-d..." She drew a ragged breath.

"He's fine, Crystal. Rackwell is alive and well. He was hurt but we got him to Jared in time. He is alive and he'll thank you for saving his life."

"N-n..." She shook her head and turned away from him.

Morris gently turned her to face him again.

"Rackwell is alive, Crystal. Jena and I are unhurt and so are you. We're safe. We're safe aboard the ship and you're in your cabin. Do you understand? Listen to me, burnit." Morris' last words shocked him but they worked.

Her eyes snapped into focus and though she tried to look away she did meet his gaze.

"We're all alive and well, Specialist."

She gave him a shaky nod.

"I'm going to call Jared now. He can help you."

Again the shaky nod.

Jackson examined his scanner critically and selected a hypo.

"Traumatic shock, Doctor," said Jackson. "Understandable and treatable."

Delroy didn't meet Jackson's eyes either but she didn't flinch when he administered the hypo.

"That's a mild sedative, Specialist," he said in a soft even voice, "along with something to take the edge off strong emotions. It will help you sleep and you'll feel better in the morning."

Jackson gently compelled her to her feet and guided her to her bunk. Morris stripped back the covers and stepped aside.

"Thank you," said Delroy, almost inaudible.

"You're quite welcome, Specialist," said Jackson, voice mild and nonabrasive. "If anything troubles you, call me."

Jackson left the room.

"T-technician..."

She met his eyes for a bare instant, just on the verge of saying something. Then she looked down.

"Th-thank you."

"Would you like me to stay until the medicine takes hold?"

A tiny nod. Morris scooted the chair over and sat beside her. Her arm lay atop the covers. Without thinking Morris took her hand and she squeezed his tightly. She took a deep breath and, though her grip remained tight, relaxed. Then as the sedative started to work her grasp relaxed and she drifted to sleep.

Jackson stood outside her door with a concerned expression on his face.

"Will she be all right?"

"Yes. I gave her a strong sedative and the anti-stressors should keep her dreams tame. I'm curious as to how you got in. Did you cut the lock?"

"No." Morris showed his key. "Why?"

"Because I tried the security and medical overrides and she disabled them. Did they work for you?"

"I used a higher-priority override. One that not many people know exists."

"Polar. I know nothing. I'm glad though. I was ready to visit Mallory when you called." The big man heaved a big sigh. "The important thing is she's resting and ready to recover." He suddenly grinned. "It appears you have an expert touch with more than machines."

***

Work proceeded lackadaisically the next day. A somber mood fell over everyone and Morris saw no way to dispel it. Polov worked at finishing the plotter but didn't. He consulted the manuals at least three times for each connection he made. Not that Morris could criticize, he accomplished little. He pulled the damaged thruster from the float and spent the entire morning cleaning it. He barely managed a start when Jackson beeped.

"The zrock mixer's running a little rich. Nothing catastrophic but it's using more resin than it should."

Morris jacked into the mixer and started a high-level diagnostic. The controls were set properly but the mixture was indeed rich. The sensors reported it, the computer acknowledged it, then nothing. A logic trace showed nothing amiss. Morris disabled the automatic control and installed a simple proportional differential feed that should hold until he found the real trouble.

Harper wore a troubled look throughout lunch. She spoke little and gave distracted answers to questions directed at her. After a while even Lace gave up. Conversation around the table was hushed and almost furtive. After the others left for their tasks Morris made his way to her office. The door opened to his touch and he found her poring over star charts.

"What's wrong, Ms. Harper?"

"Ever to the heart of the problem, Morris. How quickly can you prepare the ship to launch?"

"Twelve-hour emergency preflight. More quickly if you're willing to take some risks."

Harper sighed. "Can you do so without the others noticing?"

That gave Morris pause.

"I can try but if our saboteur has half a brain cell he or she will have a monitor hidden somewhere I won't find it. I sealed engineering with the purpose of keeping people out, not data in."

"Rut." She rubbed her eyes. "Technician, we may not be alone here."

"What?"

Harper called up an event log on her datapad. It belonged to one of the gensats and it reported an extraneous sensor ping at 0314 that morning.

"It could be a simple anomaly," said Morris.

"Keep going."

Not long afterward several other satellites reported unusual readings. Taken alone any one of them might represent nothing more than a random bit of debris or chunk of drifting metal that picked up a charge. Taken together, though, the likelihood of any of that dropped to zero.

"I've been checking the charts. There's enough junk in this system to hide a fleet and we're not particularly well-armed."

"Who..." Morris stopped.

Any number of single-sector petty empires would love to own an Imperium site. More than a few aggressive ones lay within range to try and take it, too. That was not a comforting thought but Morris' next one was even less so.

"The Consortium?"

"Not the most likely but not the least either. They're not particularly close but they're rich enough to support the logistical chain. They would love to take a bite out of Halcyon and if they could take a jab at the League and collect an Imperial site in the package then so much the better."

"What about the beacon drone?"

"I fed it the logs and all our data up to now. I don't want to launch it yet. When it goes it may be the attack signal." She considered something, then handed Morris an override key. "This is the Command-6 key. All ship systems and crypto are here including what you need for the drone. Keep it safe."

Morris secured the key in his harness with a sense of foreboding.

"This isn't just a Survey mission, is it." He made a statement of it.

Harper didn't answer directly.

"What is your opinion on the number of incidents that have happened since we grounded here? Not necessarily major ones and you can exclude what happened to Rackwell."

"Accidents happen," started Morris. Then he stopped.

Accidents did indeed happen. Nothing built by humans was proof against them but certain ones happened more frequently than others. Morris thought hard on that. Since they landed, since before they landed they met with a series of the least-likely incidents imaginable. The fail-proof power coupling that failed. The damaged robot. The conduit feeder and autoplot that malfunctioned. The zrock plant running rich. The float engine that reported nothing until its hard-safeties triggered.

"I'll find out what happened," said Morris. "I'll find the pattern."

Harper nodded.

"At least we know who our enemy is."

A very unsettled Morris made his way to the hold. As he passed through the lounge he saw Delroy at her console working with datafeeds. He wouldn't have spoken but she broke the silence.

"Technician."

"Specialist." He regarded her carefully. "Are you feeling well?"

"Yes," she almost-smiled.

"Excellent. You did a good job yesterday."

A cloud passed briefly across her face. After a moment it went away.

"Thank you, Technician." Then, very softly, "For everything."

***

Morris started the lowest-level diagnostic he could on the damaged robot. He attached sensors to every part more complex than a strut and attached a smartsystem-driven analyzer to their outputs. With nothing to do until it finished he headed outside to check on the progress.

What Morris saw surprised him. Eisley, Harkin and Polov, released from repair duty until Morris finished the 'bot, worked at putting the finishing touches on pipes, channels and conduits at one end of the foundation. At the other end Garrett, Lace and Jackson poured zrock and worked to finish the surface. They would have the foundation finished by the end of the day and ready for prefabs tomorrow. True to Jackson's word Garrett handled his exmap like a professional, including the built-in data systems.

Someone placed the crates containing the site bioreactor close to the edge of the foundation. They would install it first so Morris opened the crates, removed the seals and began prepping it. Several minor breakdowns happened during the afternoon but nothing to rouse suspicion. By nightfall the campsite foundation was a large and wetly-shining rectangular pool of hardening zrock with multitudinous pipes, poles and connections protruding from it.

"That," said Lace as she raised her glass, "is done. Do you believe it now, Greg?"

Polov nodded around a mouthful of food. Dinner was quiet without Jackson but he said he'd be late and to start without him.

"I wouldn't have believed it," said Eisley, "if I hadn't..." She looked suddenly at the doorway with a huge smile bursting across her face.

"May we join you?"

Rackwell spoke raspily from the stretcher Jackson put in chair configuration. Raspily, thought Morris, but strongly. With a loud and happy shout Lace and the Halcyon students swarmed him. Jackson tried to caution them against too much excitement but Rackwell visibly brightened at his reception.

Jackson didn't allow him to stay long. They left with the big man's promise that they'd visit outside tomorrow, at least for a short trip. Rackwell spoke reassuringly to his students and offered profound gratitude to Morris, Lace and Delroy. He also apologized wholeheartedly for disregarding the protocol and Morris saw no reason to chide him for it. When Jackson returned from taking Rackwell back to sickbay a much happier group finished their meal.

***

Everyone worked furiously the next day. Although Rackwell didn't make it to breakfast the cheer from the previous night remained. To Morris it felt as though a dark cloud lifted from them all, including himself. He finished the bioreactor well in time for it to go into the prefab designed for it and, for a small miracle, it worked perfectly from powerup. Morris just finished prepping a set of water pumps when his comm beeped. The robot diagnostics finished. He and Jackson placed the pumps and Morris stayed to make sure they worked, which they did, then he went to check on the 'bot.

Morris puzzled over the diagnostic results. According to the most delicate readings the AI-guided analyzer could make nothing had failed. From its smartsystem-meshed processors down to the most basic actuators the diagnostics reported no problem. Even the test on each individual processor in the smesh showed nothing. All systems showed perfect function with no reason for the 'bot to have failed.

On a hunch Morris pulled the computer from the damaged float. He checked it for any physical damage and found none. He hooked the analyzer to it and started diagnostics again.

Morris joined Rackwell on his visit outside. Even in the short time he spent in the hold the camp changed. Half a dozen prefabs now stood and light poles and fixtures popped up as quickly as Garrett could work his exmap. The others moved equipment and supplies into the appropriate buildings and in some cases stayed to set it up or configure it.

They didn't bring a lot of furniture but that would come later. After seeing the care with which Lace de-crated equipment Morris suspected she'd improvise quite a bit of it. Amazed, Rackwell toured each structure with all the joy of a child with a new toy.

"Incredible." Rackwell still had difficulty speaking but no one missed the genuine excitement in his voice.

***

"One more day should do it," said Jackson as he polished off his dessert. "Still think we won't crack it, Greg?"

"I'm convinced, sir," said Polov. "I admit I doubted but no more. I'm also learning, no blather. Even allowing for the differences in technology it should all transfer."

"Patterns, Mr. Polov," said Morris. "Manage the pattern and you can increase the efficiency."

Apart from that Morris spoke little during the meal. Those words started him thinking and he had plenty to contemplate. The diagnostics on the float computer also showed nothing.

Harper spoke even less than did Morris. She had a few words with Kody but no one else. She bore an obvious burden but Morris saw no way to inquire since he still worked to maintain the schism between them.

***

Morris sat bolt upright, shaking off the waves of cold revelation. The vestiges of fitful dreams remained with him, teasing him with their presence while denying him their content. All save the last. Though the details escaped him he still recalled the overall shape of it. He knew why the 'bot exploded and the float crashed.

Hoping he was wrong he disconnected his terminal and datapad from the ship's net, meshed them and powered them up. As he expected they both responded slowly. He froze the mesh into monitor-check mode. Acting at a very low level mem-freeze would execute before any software could effect changes and would not allow lockout or interruption from it.

Even the datapad had a daunting amount of memory to search but Morris knew, within broad tolerances, what to seek. He managed to isolate and clear large chunks of memory that contained only random data. Then he found the datacaches from the 'bot and the float's computer. He carefully dumped the diagnostics he ran later and that left him with only the one he slirped from the float.

That datacache was ten times the size it should be. Though not enough for what he suspected that didn't make him wrong. He carefully isolated the data and unmeshed the 'pad from his terminal. Simple pattern heuristics showed nothing but when Morris ran a recursive stochastic metric, success. The datacache represented an egg, an egg Morris himself unwittingly spread.

A quick check showed Morris' terminal insufficient for what he wanted even if meshed with the datapad and that didn't leave many options. He didn't want to use the ship's 'net, a chill ran down his spine at that thought, but he did have one system to try.

Morris carefully adjusted the datacore from the float. It hatched the egg once and it would do so again. He configured it to appear smarter by using the smesh and some extra memory from the 'bot. He also connected an analyzer set to invisible monitor. He jacked his datapad into the float computer and sat back to watch.

The smaller computer queried the float's for hooks, protocols and ports. Fraudulent data flowed into the 'pad as the two machines determined how best to communicate. Then anomaly struck. The datacache containing the egg showed activity. It couldn't do much in the tight area containing it but it could hatch. Morris watched as it started to decompress itself into the float's memory. Once it settled it began recursively decompressing other modules and before long it insinuated itself into every part of Morris' small, isolated smartsystem.

To call the thing a virus would be inaccurate. While inconvenient, ordinary viruses posed very little threat to modern systems. Occasionally a burner managed to slip one past a net's defenses but AIs and smartsystems soon exterminated them.

That left a different class of organisms designed specifically to prey upon AI, smartsystems and smeshes: meta-viruses, often termed 'genies' by irritated coders. All League computers and 'nets had defenses against them but only ones introduced externally. If the parasite managed to compromise an interior system it would circumvent the defenses it found, analyze them and alter itself into a self-executing module the 'net would recognize as safe.

Morris found Harper on the bridge. The breaking dawn visible through the front ports told him just how much time had passed. Harper herself looked as though she hadn't slept.

"There were a lot more contacts," she said without preamble. "They're not even bothering to hide. Much. How soon can we leave?"

Something clicked inside Morris head.

"When did the contacts start? I need the exact time."

Harper stared but called up the log when she decided he was serious. Morris did a quick calculation. The answer fit perfectly.

"We don't have to leave," he said. "The contacts aren't real."

Before Harper could bury him in questions Morris told her what he'd found.

"So you think these sensor contacts are the result of this parasite?"

"It fits. We're not dealing with a simple virus. When a metavirus invades a smartsystem it adapts itself fully to its environment. If the gensats are compromised that means it has control of whatever they have. Genies can be given very broad instructions. Suppose its directive is to cause us as much trouble as possible. If you were in a GIPS smartsystem how would you do that?"

"If I wanted to stay hidden I'd start a spate of anomalous... sensor contacts. Feces." She thought a moment. "Can we trust our machines?"

"Most of them. That vegg, viral egg, required a large datacache just to store itself and it couldn't execute properly on my datapad. That's how I found it."

Harper nodded.

"Isolate as many machines as you can. We must assume this thing has invaded and compromised us completely. Can you initiate measures without showing your cards?"

"I think so. I'll switch everything I can to low-level hardcode. From there I'll try to segment the memory and cores. Dr. Delroy might be able to help."

"No," said Harper quickly. "As of this moment only you, I and our saboteur know about this thing. I want to keep it that way."

A disturbing thought hit Morris. "What about the beacon drone?"

She nodded. "It's isolated but it may be infected too. I'll do what I can."

***

Morris unsealed engineering. The security showed no disturbance but if his suspicions were true the saboteur would not need physical access.

Unsurprisingly the fusion chamber reported optimal. Morris activated the hardcoded interlocks and started a low-level check built into tamper-proof circuit strips. Those results differed considerably from the high-level ones. The starchamber showed considerable deterioration. Not enough to affect the plant at its current level but more than enough to melt it if they tried to take off. Morris thought about taking the maintenance monitor completely offline but decided on a different approach.

Morris wasn't much of a coder and certainly no burner but Tech training of necessity included the basics of logic flow design, programming and smartsystem instruction. He started the hardcode regeneration cycles and worked on some computer genetics of his own. Using a portion of memory just large enough to contain it he wrote a module to simulate a perfectly-functioning fusion plant. It would not stand up to close scrutiny but stable, well-maintained plants didn't vary much from nominal values. He programmed these and added a small variance routine. He then insulated his system and connected its inputs to a smartsystem monitor. With that done he added a routine to accept signals from the standard control ports, log them and discard them.

For the fusion plant itself Morris fibered the hardware monitor directly into a pair of dedicated datalines. Thanks to Navy overbuilding the ship had ample redundant lines Morris could use as needed.

The door to engineering beeped.

"Morris," said Harkin. "Mallory said I'd find you here."

He looked past Morris.

"Maintenance? I thought you were done here."

"Routine checks. And I am." Morris rolled his eyes. "The Commander wants me to personally check everything, verify function, et cetera and at length. Just to verify the monitors, she said." He tried to put contempt in his voice but it came out petulance. Again.

"Well we're ready for lunch." Harkin checked his chrono. "Make that eating lunch and you weren't answering the comm. Jena wanted to hit the emergency beep."

He grinned at this and Morris joined him.

"I really am finished here. Give me a few minutes to clean up and I'll join you."

Harkin nodded and left. Morris re-sealed engineering, cleaned up and headed for the lounge.

Rackwell joined them briefly. Jackson allowed him only bland, low-residue solids but he ate them with gusto if not speed. Morris gathered from the conversation that they had the camp down to the polish: work on the prefab interiors.

"All without breaking anything," said Lace with a wink to Polov who finished fixing the plotter properly.

"We'll deep-map the site tomorrow," said Harper, surprising them all. "As yet we don't have any good details on it. If it even exists. I believe it does." She added that last quickly. "We'll deploy the deep scanners. I worked out optimals based on the local topography and we need three target teams. Technician, can you repair the damaged float by tomorrow?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Do so. Target teams are as follows: Kody, Harkin and Eisley; Taylor, Polov and Garrett; Lace, Jackson, Delroy and Rackwell. Jackson, you will take the rover. Kody and Taylor will take the floats."

Several people tried to voice protests, Delroy loudest among them. Harper silenced them quickly and with no alterations to the teams.

Repairing the damaged float took little time. Very little since Morris didn't intend to repair it at all. He didn't have time to rebuild the damaged thruster so he reconfigured the vehicle. Normally it side-mounted two thrusters but as a versatile survey and colony model it had the hardware and connections for a center-mount. Moving the thruster to the centerline took more effort than time and soon he had it done. Morris would take this float. He hardware-disabled the traffic control computer and reinstalled the core.

Just to be safe Morris also disabled the higher functions on the other float and the rover. They didn't need extensive traffic control protocols here and simple autoguidance didn't require a smartsystem. He also adjusted the display terminals so no one would notice the reconfiguration.

***-----

Dinner and afterward found the groups planning what to do at the scan sites. Burying the deepscanners came at the top of the list but Lace wanted samples, Harkin wanted meteorological data and Morris just wanted to finish. Jackson would take the rover to the closest site, Kody the next and Morris the farthest. Kody would also pass close to a possible entrance so he planned to do an overfly on the return trip. Delroy again stated her desire to stay with the ship and work with the datafeeds but again to no avail. Morris knew the scanners would take time to synchronize with each other and until that happened they wouldn't generate valid data.

"It's very simple," said Morris to his team. "We bury the scanner, make certain the uplink is working and then do whatever else we can. Mean time to target is two and a half hours and I want to be back with plenty of daylight. Yes, Mr. Garrett, we will be taking a herc. It will greatly assist us in placing the scanner. As to what else we do we'll follow the standard Survey protocol until it's time to leave."

Garrett and Polov swapped looks at that. Morris knew they'd do some serious reading tonight.

Morris sat at his terminal and opened Delroy's message.

'Good evening Specialist.'

'We're not really starting the expedition tomorrow, are we?'

'Why should we not?'

A graphic opened with Delroy's diagram, this time with scaling and significant factors marked. Morris took the time to investigate the criteria. Although Delroy abstracted them in a compact mathematical shorthand he managed to grasp the gist of it.

'This is our mission,' said Delroy, 'and these are the metrics affecting it and caused from it. According to the event summation the University assignment was a non-factor. We were meant from the start to investigate the Imperium site.'

'Interesting theory.'

'Don't patronize me. This is important!' She highlighted several loops on the diagram. 'These cusps happened when engineering... When we had the first accident. The lower ones correspond to other incidents of improbable machine failure or low-probability events.'

Morris indicated several smaller loops.

'What about these,' he asked.

'Statistically insignificant nonlinear perturbation. Clutter.'

'Assuming you are correct, Specialist, what should we do?'

No response.

'Specialist? Do you have an answer?'

Her console went into privacy lock. He keyed in a standard override.

'Specialist?'

The override terminated. He keyed in a priority override which also failed.

Harper gazed sleepily at her chrono then at Morris. The thoughts he had hurled him awake and wouldn't let him go back to sleep.

"What is it, Morris?" Harper half-yawned the words.

"What can you tell me about Crystal Delroy."

She closed her eyes and rubbed them hard. Then she motioned toward her office. At her request Morris physically isolated a terminal, purged it and set up heavy security on it. Meanwhile she pulled a datacube out of the safe.

"Here are the bios. I'll let you read them."

She watched over his shoulder as he did so. One entry stood out. Morris looked at Harper.

"I don't want to believe it."

"Neither did I."

# Chapter 13. Wheels Within Wheels

Morris flew toward the scanner site mechanically, his mind elsewhere. He hadn't slept well after his visit to Harper. Vivid dreams haunted him. Short ones and long ones all disturbed him but not enough so to wake him. He woke incredibly tired and even an unusual morning shower didn't help.

Wheels, he thought. Wheels within wheels within wheels, all of them interconnected to things he didn't want to contemplate. Political implication both macro and micro wove themselves out as abhorrent patterns in an obscene logic flow. The facts might fit but in that particular arena facts were ephemeral and not particularly relevant.

Polov and Garrett, sensitive to his mood, kept their silence. Once they reached the scan site they circled a few times and Morris landed as close to the burial spot as possible. With Garrett in the exmap doing serious digging and Morris and Polov the fine bits they soon had an appropriate hole for the scanner.

"Safety lock, Mister Garrett," said Morris. "Easy Mister Polov. We're almost there."

Garrett locked the exmap. Now he could dismount and the herc would hold its position. Important since Morris needed both of the others to set the final alignment.

Morris and Polov rotated the scanner carefully until it aligned properly. Polov and Garrett held the thing steady while Morris deployed the stability braces. In theory they would expand until they held steady pressure against the walls and bottom of the hole without disrupting the alignment. In reality it never worked out that way.

Morris manually increased the pressure on each strut until the other two could begin loosely filling dirt into the space between the scanner and the hole. The scanner was quite heavy and unwieldy and, ironically, required exact placement. By adjusting the struts individually Morris finally managed to hit perfect alignment with enough pressure on each strut to keep it in place when they replaced all the dirt.

Morris attached and locked the datacable to the probe and motioned the other two to begin filling the hole in earnest. He mounted and unlocked the exmap and used it to emplace the comm uplink. Once he finished that he keyed in the start command and the scanner established its link with the gensats. After a minute of protocol exchange the scanner began the synchronization procedure.

"That is done," said Garrett. "We have the cap in place, Dr. Taylor, if you'd care to put some rocks on top of it."

After ensuring the comm cable was out of the way Morris did just that. He put enough weight on it to keep any ground from settling in and disrupting the alignment.

"Now it's done," said Morris. "Link and sync is active. What next, Mister Polov?"

Polov checked his chrono. "Take samples of local lifeforms for Jena and weather measurements for Dr. Harkin."

"Report to base," said Garrett without looking up.

Polov nodded sheepishly.

"Target three to base." Morris uplinked through the gensats. "Target three to base, initial scanner placement complete, acknowledge."

Silence.

"Target three to base. Acknowledge please."

Nothing. Morris checked the comm. It functioned as did the unit in the float. He knew the gensats were probably corrupted but that shouldn't affect the separate and automatic low-level comm relay. He caught an anxious look from the other two.

"Local conditions, gentlemen." Morris switched to the secondary frequency. "Target three to base. Please acknowledge, second channel."

Still nothing. Morris switched to the rover's frequency.

"Target three to target one."

"Acknowledge," boomed Jackson's voice. "You three finished already?"

"Affirm," said Morris. "Routine report and we couldn't reach base. Will you try?"

"Wilco," said Jackson. "Switching channels now."

Morris motioned the other two into the float.

"We'll try some altitude."

With a quick mental calculation Morris estimated how high to fly to establish line-of-sight to the ship. Then he added ten percent for extra certainty and lofted the float upward.

"Target three to base, please respond."

No response and no carrier.

"Target one to target three," said Jackson.

"Target three."

"We couldn't reach them either. We're on locally high ground and we didn't even get a return pulse."

"Do you have LOS?"

"Affirm. No pulse and no carrier. Should we start back?"

Why ask me, thought Morris.

"How close are you to placing the scanner?"

"Almost done," said Jackson.

"I suggest you finish that at least. It's not my call but it may be nothing more than a comm malfunction."

"Wilco. Target one out."

Morris switched frequencies.

"Target three to target two."

"Target two acknowledge," said Harkin.

Morris briefly explained the situation.

"Target three will return to base," said Morris. "Suggest you complete scanner placement and do likewise pending contact or further instructions."

"Target two wilco. Out."

Morris looked at Polov and Garrett.

"Strap in hard, gentlemen. This won't be a slow trip."

Without bothering to lose altitude Morris inserted his override key and pushed the thruster to max. Even one engine short the float managed a decent speed.

***

Morris knew they had problems well before he saw the ship. Two streamers of smoke wafted into the air with no reason for either. Polov tried periodically to comm the ship. Even though he knew it futile Morris let the man do it. It kept him busy.

Smoke poured from most of the prefabs. They didn't hold many combustible items but those that did burn made a lot of smoke. Another wisp of it streamed up from the ship.

"No major power reading, sir," reported Garrett. "Looks like small systems and residuals. Nothing active."

Morris landed as close to the ship as he dared. Nothing should explode but he'd take no chances.

"Recall the others, Mr. Polov."

Morris almost made it to the ship when he realized Garrett walked beside him. Visual inspection showed some minor damage but that left a thousand other things that might have happened. Morris walked around the ship verifying his initial observation. With nothing more to glean from outside he started up the ramp.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Careful sir, she may be juicy," said Garrett.

"League ships ground through the landing struts, Ron."

Juicy. The word spacers used to describe the electrical charge that could build up in a ship's hull during landing.

The main 'lock refused to open. It had a battery backup but that only worked from inside. Morris pulled off the emergency panel and cranked it open manually.

Once inside Morris could cycle the 'lock. The lights were out and the emergency glows looked dim after the sunlight.

"Careful sir."

Morris jumped when Garrett spoke.

"You might need help, sir," said Garrett when Morris gave him a severe look.

Morris made his way quickly but carefully to the bridge. The smoky air made him glad of his respirator. Whatever fires started didn't burn long since the ship had multiple redundant fire suppression systems, but as with the prefabs whatever did burn produced massive smoke.

They found Harper on the bridge. Her arms and hands were horribly burned and she lay across the deck. She flinched when Morris touched her and mouthed something.

"Ron," said Morris, "sickbay. Aid kit. Oxygen."

Garrett left in a hurry. Morris pulled off his respirator and put his ear to her mouth.

"Ca... Ca... pac..."

"Capacitor?"

She barely nodded. "Sh... or...t"

"Capacitor short?"

Again the nod. "No... la... Not... launch..."

"You tried to launch the drone? It failed?"

"Bio..."

Garrett arrived with the aid kit and an oxygen tube. Morris fastened that across her nose and mouth and pulled the pin. He and Garrett carefully removed the charred remnants of her uniform and applied burn gel copiously. Her pinched expression relaxed a little.

"Find something," said Morris. "Let's get her to sickbay."

Sickbay survived mostly intact. Only the machines hardwired into the ship's power net suffered catastrophic damage. The automed was a fused mess but much of the equipment was designed to be disaster-proof. The stasis monitor on Blakeschiff's body still showed green.

Very carefully they placed Harper on the diagnostic bunk. Although it was fried Morris found an disaster-packed portable monitor. It took him longer to hook her in that it would Jackson but he managed. The readouts showed more red than not, not a good sign.

"It's survivable," said Garrett, though mostly to himself.

Morris called up the unit's diagnostic module. It presented a lot of information well beyond his training but several options he did understand.

"Find me some green jolt, Mister Garrett. Twelve cc's."

Garrett's eyes widened at the size of the dose but he complied. Morris desperately wanted Jackson beside him but that wouldn't happen soon. He administered the drug and Harper drifted off to sleep.

"Keep close watch on her, Mister Garrett. Notify Mister Polov and have him apprise Jared of the situation. I'm going to check engineering.

Morris located an emergency locker, pulled out an EVAC and donned it.

A molten, smoldering mess greeted Morris when he cycled into engineering. Not only did the capacitors short, most of them vaporized only to condense on the walls, ceiling and floor. The fusion plant slagged and melted and the starchamber cracked. The catalyst rings showed signs of advanced sublimation. Lubricant and hydraulic fluid hissed and popped and occasionally flamed as they hit hot metal. Morris needed no instruments to know the ship was dead. He only hoped her commander wouldn't follow suit.

With no worry about any power in the systems Morris conducted what investigation he could. He knew he'd isolated the capacitors as well as everything else but obviously someone manged to gain access to engineering and connect them to the fusion plant along with every other isolated system. From there, no doubt, they built up to a tolerance ten load. Then something triggered a discharge. Morris tried to check the monitors but the ones not totally fried yielded no data. Either intense heat or a well-placed thermex charge melted the datacore connected to every one.

After Garrett's repeated and emphatic assurance he'd notify him of any change in Harper's condition Morris cycled outside. He found Polov poking through the prefabs and spraying out fires.

"Everything hooked to the ship was fried, sir."

Morris nodded. "Commander Harper said it was a capacitor short. She's in sickbay and still alive."

Relief washed over Polov. "What do we do now, sir?"

What indeed?

Morris and Polov started assessing damage and noting salvageable items when the second float roared in. Kody jumped out almost before it settled to the ground with Eisley and Harkin close on his heels. The midshipman looked at the ship, then Morris then back at the ship. He finally reported to Morris and saluted.

"Target team two reporting, sir."

"Relax, Mr. Kody. Commander Harper is alive and in sickbay. I have Mr. Garrett watching her closely. By her report it was a capacitor short. It fried most of the ship and prefabs so we won't be leaving soon."

Tension drained from Kody.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "What do we do now?"

"That would be your decision, Mister Kody. With Commander Harper down command passes to you."

That puzzled Kody. He drew Morris away from the others.

"Sir, Ms. Harper gave me orders last night. She planned to launch the beacon drone while we were away. That's the only reason I went. She told me she enlisted you under Article 27 and specified that you were in command if anything happened to her." Kody checked the others and lowered his voice. "She told me why as well, sir."

Morris nodded tiredly.

"Thank you, Mister Kody." Then a thought occurred to him. "How did you get back here so fast? Did she give you an override key? The rover should have arrived first."

"They'll be here in twenty or less, sir." Kody shifted uncomfortably. "Umm... I don't have a key, sir. Culle knew the transit sequence security override for the traffic computer. He said he could go to prison for even knowing it existed and I took responsibility, sir."

"Don't worry, Mr. Kody. No one will be in trouble for it."

News of the rover's imminent arrival absorbed all of Morris' concentration. He considered taking one of the floats to it to retrieve Jackson but that wouldn't save much time. Then he almost convinced himself to go again.

As soon as the rover arrived Jackson rushed to sickbay. After examining Harper carefully he placed her in stasis.

"She'll live," said Jackson. "She really isn't that badly hurt, all things considered, but more so than I can fix here. Same with Blakeschiff. His stasis pod wasn't connected to anything so he's still good." Jackson sighed hugely. "Tran told me about the 27, Morris. Do you need to talk?"

Morris considered telling the big man everything but second thoughts quashed that.

"I'm sorry, Jared. It isn't my information to give."

"Bloody damned League politicians. Morris, whatever it is you can count on me."

***

Morris regarded the somber group around him. All of them knew he had command and that burden weighed heavily on his shoulders. They all sat in the largest prefab, one with its own airlock, on crates or bits of furniture. They had some power. Morris pulled the simple, small fusion plant from the smaller float, made sure it had plenty of fuel pellets and hooked it into the isolated and patched building. Although it didn't generate a lot of power it would last a long time. While he did that the others gathered as much undamaged equipment as they could from the ship and other prefabs. Morris also managed to assemble a simple air and water purifier so neither of those would be a problem.

"Our situation is this," said Morris, gaining absolute silence. "We are isolated here. The ship is a complete loss as far as taking off is concerned. We have power enough for basic life support, water and air so that's a stable environment. We have a good cache of medical supplies and food but they are limited.

"When the League or Halcyon doesn't receive word from us one of them will send a ship to investigate but I don't know when that will happen. What I intend to do is ground here as hard as we can and wait."

"What about the beacon drone?" asked Harkin. "Won't that expedite matters?"

"Commander Harper did not launch the drone," said Morris.

"What?" asked Eisley incredulously. "Why? After everything that went wrong she still didn't launch that frosted thing?"

"Ms. Harper did not share her decisions with me," lied Morris. "I only know it's still parked in orbit."

"Can we launch it?" Polov looked anxious at what Morris' answer might be.

"Not from here." Morris considered that when investigating the ship. "We need a high-density high-resolution extended secure data channel. Those are about seventeen times more complex than standard comm or data pipes and the only one we had slagged when the capacitors went. I checked the array and I might be able to salvage some of the peripheral components but the important ones are gone. Unfortunately it's not something I can build from scratch."

The others considered this uneasily.

"What happens when the rations run out?" asked Lace.

"Stasis. We have enough field pods for everyone here. If any of you prefer we can freeze you now."

None volunteered.

After a while Rackwell spoke.

"Morris, describe to me what you would need to launch the beacon drone and why you cannot use what we have here."

"Communication is easy," said Morris. "The requirements aren't severe for simple voice. Video and streaming data are harder but not that much. Basic data transfer is only a bit more difficult. Within the ranges we're using we have enough redundant pipe to error-correct over whatever quality we happen to have from second to second.

"Working with something like the drone requires reliable pipe several orders of magnitude greater than our comm networks. I'll also have to direct-link to the drone itself because the gensats are only rated to standard GIPS and they don't have the data density or quality required even if I could mesh them.

"Next is the question of the protocols involved. Because of its nature a beacon drone will only communicate over a secure channel of a particularly high quality which of itself precludes anything we have here now. The crypto alone chews up more than streaming analysis-quality image data over a sporadic relay with small pipes. I might be able to tear apart eight or nine satellites and build something with a small chance of working but they're in orbit and we're not."

Rackwell considered this.

"Is the methodology you need particularly advanced?"

Morris sighed inwardly. Rackwell had his teeth around an idea again.

"More so than I can patch together here, Dr. Rackwell. Other than that, no."

"In that case I may know where we can find the requisite components."

Morris and the others stared at him.

"In every recorded instance," said Rackwell, "Imperial strongpoints always contain the most advanced communication and sensor equipment available throughout the Imperium."

***

Morris didn't know how long he sat silent. He knew it wouldn't be easy but would it be possible?

The frequencies would be nowhere close but he could adjust them. He'd need a massive array but size didn't really matter since the underlying principles hadn't changed. As Rackwell said advance bases meant advanced technology and no recorded colonies or trade routes around this one meant very late Imperium, possibly even after the Collapse started. That made the technology here the most advanced in the Imperium. He'd also need power but he had the other float and the rover. He also had a fair stock of parts salvaged from the ship as well as the equipment in the buildings.

Awareness seeped in slowly and Morris saw the others staring intently at him.

"Well?" asked Lace.

"I don't know if it will work," he said, "but I don't know it won't and it's certainly worth trying. Besides, we might as well accomplish something while we're here."

The others voiced approval at this. Morris decided that possible or not they would work on it. They would all work on it until lack of rations drove them into stasis. Better that than sitting around brooding.

Morris sat at the terminal and watched the image build, fractal by fractal. The camp had LOS to the nearest scanner and he now cared about nothing but an entrance. Early scans verified the installation, now they needed access to it. The direct connection was abysmally slow but the gensats balked when he tried a wide-pipe relay.

Morris found several potential entrances with one not far from the scanner site. Unfortunately most of the area around it and the base was wrinkled with mountains which made its usefulness problematic. Nonetheless it did at least provide a starting point. They would use it.

Morris lay back on his bunk, unable to sleep. The others made soft, semi-wakeful sounds around him. Lace and Polov salvaged and improvised partitions so each of them had a private space but none of the flimsy dividers reached the ceiling. Morris found that comforting.

By cold nightfall second thoughts began chewing on him. With the lights dim and no one else around technological feasibility seemed more distant than what he thought before. He turned his thoughts to the saboteur among them.

Morris didn't deceive himself. The traitor outmaneuvered him, truth and pure. Nor did he soft-coat the evidence he mulled. Though sparse he still had ample evidence of what happened. The saboteur connected the capacitors to the weakened fusion plant, the power net and possibly even the thalyssium grid in the hull. With the ship's computers compromised or neutralized it wouldn't be difficult to cover that evidence along with the slowly-overloading system. Most likely Harper triggered the trap when she tried to contact the beacon drone. The resulting power surge blasted through all the ordinary safeties, wrecked the ship and injured her.

That left Morris with only the saboteur. He could almost admire the elegance of how the systems failed. With none of them alive to talk it would be ruled a tragic accident. Intelligence, whether League or Halcyon, might suspect differently they'd have a hard time proving it. Suspicion would flare and erode the alliance between the two governments, not much but not a little either. Then someone else could move in and take over the site.

Morris toyed with the idea of Rackwell as his suspect but discarded it immediately. He knew Halcyon wanted credit for discovering the site as well as the right to develop it. He knew just as solidly that the League would allow that, provided Halcyon would accept funding and assistance. Rackwell knew that.

A more comforting thought occurred to Morris in the reason the saboteur left the rest of them alive. He or she still had to operate within the bounds of accident and chance or risk someone leaving a record otherwise. Before he went to bed Morris recorded his suspicions using both Harper's crypto and a Guild key. Only the League Navy and a Guild Arbiter together could break it.

As far as opening the Imperial base Lace scored a treasure ship in the form of a sealed crate of biogel tubes and another of bioanalysis gear. That would allow them to thoroughly test the interior atmosphere for biochemical agents.

An anomalous sound drew Morris' attention. Slowly, quietly he rose and crept toward it. Before his second step he realized he had his laser in hand, safety off and ready to fire.

Crystal Delroy sat at the computer in the main area with her personal terminal hooked into it. Between Morris, Garrett and Jackson they salvaged enough computer gear to assemble a unit sufficient for their needs. Then, with Morris' assurance that no dangerous power levels remained within the ship, everyone retrieved what they could of the equipment there and their personal possessions.

Delroy looked unhappy with what she saw on the terminal. Morris saw only a pair of interlaced three-dimensionally complex structures but not so Delroy. She furiously manipulated one of them but the other refused to change. Then Morris noticed something else.

Delroy had a satellite uplink active.

# Chapter 14. The Revelation

"Technician."

Morris opened his eyes to Kody standing over him.

"It's time, sir."

The others gathered around the main table. Morris noticed the area nearly matched the layout of the lounge. Garrett portioned out rations and someone brewed chog.

Everyone would go. Morris could think of no reason to leave anyone behind, not one he could tell, and that very unspoken reason also dictated that he not. Rackwell, still shaky on his feet, probably should have stayed but Morris could not deny the excitement in the man's face. No, they would all go.

Morris sat in the secondary position as Jackson guided the rover. He opted against taking the float because of the rover's more rugged construction and, irrationally, because he didn't want that much emptiness between himself and the ground. As he drove Jackson occasionally dropped the pushblade to help clear out a road. They decided to make the trip in two stages: base to scanner site and from there to the presumed entrance. With part of that trail already cleared they could move faster.

After they reached the scanner site Jackson swapped with Morris. Harkin moved beside Morris and Jackson moved to the back. Built for eight people with room, ten left the rover feeling quite crowded. Fortunately they had a bonus seat in the form of a forward turret mount. Ordinarily a mission specialist or equipment operator sat there but now they just used it as an extra seat. When Jackson started snoring Garrett volunteered to ride in the cargo hold for the return trip.

By the time Morris tired Jackson woke and spelled him. Morris went back and sat between Eisley and Kody, dozing fitfully until the rover stopped.

Before them Morris saw an impressive mountain with more behind it. Though overgrown the semi-clearing in which the rover sat had an artificial look to it. The base of the mountain opened into a cave easily large enough for the rover to traverse.

"Supply route," opined Jackson. "Looks like this was a building complex or town. We almost have a road straight into that cave."

"That's good," said Morris, "but do we have a place to put the camp?"

In response Jackson lowered the blade and cleared an area.

"We do indeed have a place to put the camp," he grinned.

Their camp consisted of five good-sized bubble tents arranged around a portable air and water purifier. While Morris connected it to the rover's fusion plant Kody ran a hose to a nearby stream. The others had the tents deployed in short order. Morris designated one tent for supplies and posted Kody there. Lace, Eisley and Delroy took one tent, Garrett and Harkin another, Rackwell and Jackson the one closest to the rover leaving the last for Morris and Polov.

Morris checked the purifier. It had a small internal battery and that had charged enough to run the thing for almost an hour so they decided to explore the cave. Not far past the entrance it showed definite signs of artificial shaping. The natural rough taper widened and turned smooth. They also saw evidence of fixtures on the walls and ceiling, likely lighting or security apparatus. By close examination Morris saw what could have been tracks worn into the floor.

Just over halfway to the mass that was the actual site their journey stopped. The tunnel either collapsed or faulted as the road came to a sudden cliff. They exited the rover to examine it.

"Looks like seven to ten meters," said Jackson, "and it's definitely a vertical shift. See the tracks continuing forward? We're not getting the rover in there."

"We have a ladder," said Rackwell. "Is it long enough?"

"We have several," said Morris. "And yes, they are."

Morris and Garrett assembled the ladder, actually a sturdy apparatus meant for anchoring, and Jackson used the lifter to put it in place. Morris anchored the top solidly to the stone, descended and anchored the bottom as well. Jackson followed him down with a lightstaff and the two of them walked forward. After most of a kilometer the tunnel sloped unsteadily upward at which point the tunnel resumed.

"Go or go back?" asked Jackson.

"Go back. There's one thing I really want to do."

When the two of them walked back Garrett and Harkin waited at the bottom of the ladder. Lace descended at Morris' call with the biogel and analyzer.

"Of course I'll go," she said. "It isn't that hard to set up but I'd rather me do it than you."

"Stay in touch, sir," said Garrett.

"We have holocasters active," said Morris. "If anything happens you'll probably know before we do."

Walking the rest of the tunnel took a lot longer than driving would but none of them minded. They knew they arrived when they came to a solid wall with a massive metal door set into it. Lace examined it closely, pointed her handscanner at it then gave a long whistle.

"This is definitely a late-Imperium base. The Collapse didn't hit here for a long time, am I right?"

"You are," said Jackson. "Why?"

"This is a cultured crystalline and steel matrix," she said. "Produced with great difficulty in a process similar to how we create oceramet."

"No blather?" asked Jackson.

"Truth pure and simple. The main difference is there's no 'O' here. It's definitely a crystal ceramic metal just not grown organically. The knowledge has been around forever but it wasn't cost-efficient until Edward Ritton discovered how to grow it."

"There is some oxidation and corrosion," said Morris. He did a quick calculation. "If it's like oceramet the oxidation shouldn't be more than eight millis deep."

Morris echo-scanned the door and verified it mostly solid. Very carefully he anchored a precision guide to the door and attached his cutter. He set it to hollow-drill a five-millimeter cylinder one centimeter deep. When he extracted the plug and examined it he saw the corrosion between six and eight millis deep before turning to pure, uncorrupted metal.

"Polar to orbit." Lace smiled and made a kiss at both of the men. "For luck."

Morris put a plug-seal in the small hole and continued drilling. The laser stopped just short of breaching the door and the seal-plug deployed. He removed the guide and attached a pair of fasteners above the hole. Lace locked the bioanalyzer to them, shoved its probe into the seal and pushed it through into the base.

"There's a slight overpressure," she said. "Atmospheric components... trace oxygen, carbon dioxide and a few others but ninety-nine percent inert. They sealed it. They sealed it hard."

Morris felt a thrill at that. Although the doorway might not corrode the same could not be said of anything inside, especially anything exposed to oxygen. The inert overpressure meant the former occupants sealed the base before departing.

"Almost zero biologicals," continued Lace. "With the inerting treatment the gel should show a lot faster."

She prepared two gel tubes and attached them to the air line. She made sure they'd stay in place, turned and offered Morris and Jackson a nod.

"Atmospheric analysis is initiated, gentlemen. I am happy."

Before they left Morris checked the metallurgy of the plug he removed. He carefully traced the seal on the door and applied a fast-acting de-corrosion gel around it. For safety and contingency he glued a wide strip of tough, inert plastic over it. He applied enough chemical for twelve millis of corrosion which should more than suffice to unseal the doorway.

Back at the rover Rackwell all but vibrated with excitement.

"We monitored everything," he said. "I do hope you are correct about the biogel, Jena. I don't believe I could wait another whole day before we start."

***

Morris lay back but again sleep stayed away. Polov mumbled incoherently in his sleep, not particularly loud but enough so to keep Morris awake. As he lay growing more and more tired odd notions whirled in his head. His body grew lethargic as he slipped into a light sleep. He could intuit a pattern but he could not see it. Something obvious kept avoiding his conscious mind but instead of frustrating him it drove him to find it.

Morris woke to alertness. Something roused him through the fatigue still weighing him down. The tent was dark, or relatively so, Polov was mumbling away and a light breeze was hissing against the wall.

There. He caught a faint whirring sound. Moving as silently as he could Morris donned his boots, respirator and laser. The tent had a primitive airlock, one that lost a 'lock full of air when cycled but one that operated quietly.

The camp looked secure. No light shone within any of the tents and they all appeared undisturbed in the dim starlight. Then he noticed a glimmer of light from inside the rover. Someone deployed the uplink array and the flashes of light on the ports indicated at least one terminal in use.

Morris entered the 'lock carefully. Before he closed the outer door he silenced the telltale that would sound when it cycled. He cranked the door shut slowly, feeling a bit silly for doing so, and cracked the valves that would replace the tainted air. No one had any business inside the rover and certainly not with the uplink active unless he or she wanted to contact someone in orbit or beyond.

Morris drew a deep breath, let it out slowly and hit the crash override on the inner door.

Within the darkness inside the rover the sole source of light drew Morris' eyes to it. Bathed in the glow of her terminal, startled and shocked by Morris' sudden appearance, sat Crystal Delroy. She had both the computer and communication stations meshed with her terminal and the strange, twisty shapes on its display.

"Good evening, Specialist," said Morris, his voice totally cold.

Delroy stared at him. Her eyes fell to the laser he held pointed at her then traced slowly up his arm back to his face. She opened her mouth as if to speak but said nothing.

"Tell me, Doctor Delroy, why are you burning up console time at this hour of the night? While you're about it tell me why you have the uplink array deployed." He moved forward. "Remove your hands from the terminal."

"I... I... was trying to... to contact..."

"Yes, Specialist? Scoot back from the console. Slowly."

She complied. As she did Morris noticed she wore her own laser.

"Very, very slowly, Specialist, remove your weapon and place it on the floor."

The stranger within him shocked Morris but he made no effort to change it. So far Delroy obeyed without question or hesitation. Now she unclasped her weapon belt and let it drop. When she backed far enough from the terminal Morris stepped forward and swiveled the display so he could see it.

What Morris saw brought all his suspicions boiling to a head. Something snapped and anger flooded him.

"These are access routines for the beacon drone."

"I... I can... explain..."

"I'm certain you can, Specialist. You know you can't launch it from here so why were you even trying?"

Rage rose within Morris. He felt himself starting to shake with it.

"You asked me, Specialist, why this mission might not be completed. You felt quite certain of it. Well, Specialist, I can answer you now. This mission might well fail because of a traitor in our midst."

Now Delroy started trembling. She worked her mouth but no words came out. Not trusting himself to say more Morris reached for his comm.

"Mister Kody. To the rover please."

Though fury boiled through Morris he held his laser steady. The rational part of his mind cried for him to stop only to fall under the wash of emotion gripping him. Kody didn't respond.

"Mister Kody. Report to the rover. Now."

Through one of the ports Morris caught a shadowy motion. Then a lightstaff blossomed, then another. He saw figures moving about but the midshipman still didn't acknowledge.

"Morris." The voice belonged to Jackson. "We need you here. Urgently. There's a matter that requires your attention."

"Belay that, Mister Jackson. If Midshipman Kody is there tell him to report immediately."

"Morris, Mister Kody is dead."

The boiling angry tempest within Morris froze instantly to an icy rage.

"What was that, Mister Jackson?"

"Tran Kody is dead. Where are you?"

"I'm in the rover. Please report here."

"What?"

"Do it!"

After a moment the 'lock cycled and Jackson stepped in. He took in the tableau instantly, his hand close to but not on his sidearm.

"Morris?"

"Mister Jackson please detain Doctor Delroy. I'll explain my reasons shortly but for now know she is extremely dangerous and may be responsible for two deaths already."

Jackson looked from Morris to Delroy and back. What decided him Morris didn't know but he obeyed. At his direction Delroy rose and preceded him to the 'lock. Morris backed away, wary of a sudden lunge or attempted flight. She started to step into the 'lock without her respirator but Jackson stopped her and strapped it on. She shrank in on herself and she moved slowly and shakily.

Jackson led Morris to where the lightstaves converged and the others milled about. Kody lay in the middle of a pool of heartless light. He looked as though he died in the process of drawing his weapon. He had a small, neat hole in the middle of his forehead just above his respirator mask. The exit wound was neither small nor neat.

***

Images. Delroy trembling in Jackson's grasp. Rackwell with a comforting hand across Lace's shoulder, himself looking no small amount disturbed. Eisley bent over with her respirator up, retching with Garrett and Polov beside her trying to keep the toxic atmosphere out of her.

Morris felt a heavier weight of responsibility settle over him as he pulled a cover over Kody's body. The midshipman trusted him and Morris let him down. Perhaps now he could begin to make amends.

"We will meet in front of the rover," said Morris. The emotionless void of his voice surprised him. He knew he should feel something: grief, loss, shock, but... Nothing. "Now. Do not leave the area once you are there. Mister Garrett help me with Mister Kody's body please. Mister Jackson, see to it we are not disturbed. Don't let down your guard."

Numb with shock, the others obeyed Morris' commands. He retrieved a sealed bag from the rover and he and Garrett gently placed Kody's body within it. Gently they put it in the supply tent. That was not proper, thought Morris, but it would have to do. Keeping the living alive took priority now.

***

Morris strode into the pool of light in front of the rover, put his holocaster on the large box someone placed there and gave his name, certification and mission details. The others, seated on whatever they could find, fell silent and looked at him with total concentration. Delroy, seated in front of Jackson and not moving at all, looked past him with shock-numbed eyes.

"The time has come to address some important issues," said Morris. "What I have to say involves classified information so as acting commander of this mission I do hereby compel you to strict confidentiality.

"From the time we grounded here we've been plagued by mishap. In truth these incidents began before we grounded. It is astronomically improbable for a mission to have such a series of low-probability accidents and events but it can happen.

"These accidents, however, were nothing of the sort. Every incident was a coldly calculated and deliberate act of sabotage against the League and the Halcyon region. In a meeting with Lieutenant Harper I presented evidence that what happened to Chief Engineer Keyson was intended to destroy our ship's power network and our ship along with it. She then revealed to me that my suspicions were well-founded and we did in fact have a saboteur aboard."

A brief murmur, words of disbelief. Morris held up his hand.

"After we grounded and after the fusion plant on the ship was set to planet-side requirements we began having a series of mechanical and system failures. During the course of repairing the damaged float and robot I uncovered a hostile and very adaptable electronic parasite, a metavirus. I subsequently discovered traces of that metavirus in our shipboard systems.

"Midshipman Kody informed me yesterday that Ms. Harper intended to disinfect, program and launch the beacon drone. I suspect the catastrophic power surge was triggered by that same metavirus in order to prevent the drone's launch."

The emotionlessness of his voice surprised and chilled Morris. This wasn't him. He felt the start of a cold lump inside him only to have it washed away.

"Earlier this evening... morning a suspicious sound brought me out of my tent. When I investigated it I found Specialist Delroy in the rover working on the comm and computer stations with an active uplink to the satellite network."

Some small part of Morris rebelled at his next words yet he forced himself to say them.

"Mister Jackson I order you to place Specialist Delroy under arrest for suspicion of murder and suspicion of treason."

Silence. Morris deactivated the holocaster, sealed the recording with his personal crypto and clipped it to his harness.

"That... You're wrong," said Lace.

Several others voiced agreement.

"Ms. Lace, Jena, I didn't want to believe it," said Morris. "Unfortunately it fits. It fits and it is the best fit. It hurt me to think that any of you could betray the mission, could betray us, but the facts are there."

After a long pause Harkin spoke.

"That's all platinum on a plate, Morris, but how can we know you're not the saboteur?"

Jackson and Garrett shifted uneasily at this.

"You can't," said Morris, "but if I set out to destroy the ship I'd have done so. Were I responsible that float would have crashed and whatever accident I arranged to befall the ship would have been totally without flaw and above any suspicion. I don't even need a metavirus to do that."

Harkin nodded albeit uneasily. He didn't look particularly reassured but he held that close since only Morris and Jackson had weapons. No one spoke for a long time.

"Mister Jackson," said Morris. "I want her prepped for stasis. Can you do that here?"

"I can initiate it. Slow freeze takes twelve to fifteen hours though."

"Do it," said Morris. Dawn wasn't far away and he knew he couldn't sleep. "We'll begin investigating now."

While the others ate rations Morris drank double-strength chog and followed it with some of Lace's blackbean tea. A surreal haze settled over him and he felt his lack of sleep sharply. Deep inside Morris knew this was the wrong way to handle things but he couldn't think clearly enough to formulate anything better. He started to take Jackson or Harkin aside, confide everything and ask for advice. He did not.

The others' actions stopped Morris. Though they'd had a terrible shock they acted swiftly under his orders. Occasionally someone looked at him with no small trepidation yet they completed their tasks efficiently. If he showed any weakness or uncertainty they all might succumb to the anguish they surely felt.

The rover moved slowly into the cave. Jackson drove with Harkin beside him. Delroy sat in the back, shackled and unresisting. At Morris' request Jackson administered a sedative but she really didn't need it. She moved woodenly at his direction, eyes downcast, and spoke not at all. Now she sat and stared at the floor.

Morris felt a poignant stab of guilt at this. She was guilty of at least treason and possibly - no, certainly - of murder, he knew that, but he still felt as though he acted brutally. Well, he did. Now with clarity restored and a foothold on which to act Morris' conscience sank its teeth hard.

They reached the dropoff quickly. Jackson parked the rover and locked the controls. Morris locked down the equipment, privacy locked the terminals and disabled the uplink just in case. Jackson ferried down the gear they needed then attached a harness seat and lowered Delroy to the bottom. At Morris' orders she and a guard would wait here but he didn't know who to pick.

"I'll stay," said Harkin.

"Why, Culle?" asked Morris.

Harkin shrugged. "When we found out about the site all I wanted was to crack it open and explore it. Now... Now all I want is to go back home." He half-grinned. "Besides, I doubt there's any interesting weather in there."

***

Morris examined the door carefully. With plenty of time to work the analyzer reported no hostile organisms whatsoever and likewise the biogel showed no streaking even from ordinary microbes. Jackson and Lace both pronounced it clean but not breathable. No matter there, they all had air tanks to supplement their respirators. When he checked the doorway itself he found the corrosion gone and the portal itself ready to open.

"Now for the fun," said Jackson.

He, Morris and Garrett went to work anchoring and sealing a flexible but tough plastic sheet around the frame of the doorway. Although he worked quickly Morris made sure to seal it well. Once they finished that Morris sealed the edges of the massive sheet together, tapered the resulting tube and sealed it to the portable airlock they brought.

Morris fought to keep the sheet out of the way as he slowly worked the massive doorway open. When he cracked it the overpressure inflated his 'lock adapter. He had an anxious few moments squirting sealant into a couple of leaks but the rest held solidly.

"Jared," said Morris. "I need some help."

He and Jackson managed to open the doorway well enough to enter the massive room beyond. It took the others bare minutes to cycle through and join them.

Their scanners showed no active power but some of the systems had residual traces in them. That puzzled Morris until Jackson hit upon the solution.

"Geothermal generators," said the big man. "With the likely volcanic activity when this base was built that would make a lot of sense. Bury the power with the base so it can't be cut off. Wouldn't take any effort at all to drop a thermal differencer somewhere it would power five bases. Plus the complex outside. That would make a lot of sense, too."

"Which systems may still be working," said Morris. "Don't touch any switches."

The room past the doorway turned into a vehicle-sized 'lock. Empty, unfortunately, but with a well-working manual override at the other end. That portal led to a parking and loading deck. It stretched far upward and away and only with their lightstaves on high did they see the full size of it.

The loading deck led to a warehouse half-filled with ancient crates and boxes.

"Might what we want be here?" asked Garrett.

"It might, Mister Garrett," said Morris, "but it would take a long time to find it if so. Not to mention the damage we'd do to things the follow-up team would want left whole. Let's see if we can find a map."

It didn't take long to locate an office and from there a rough diagram of the base. It might have been a disaster escape route or a description of the areas within the place, even Jackson could not translate the Imperialat on the flimsy page.

"Split into teams," said Morris, "and record everything."

Morris took Polov and headed deeper into the base. They passed many centuries-ancient wonders but they had a specific goal in mind. Morris lost track of time as they worked their way through the installation, careful to record everything but disturb nothing.

After a time Jackson called. He, Garrett and Rackwell located the comm and sensor complex. As he and Polov worked through the anechoic, dark corridors Morris longed to take just a moment to explore something but he resisted that temptation. They recorded everything and managed a decent map of their paths. That would do for now.

"Here it is," said Jackson. "Can you tell if it'll work?"

Morris began investigating the area. It was indeed the sensor and communication center with the command complex on one side and several large computer rooms on the others. This room held the control consoles, some of potential use. Further investigation, aided by documents they found in the office there, led to the actual comm and sensor arrays.

Morris felt awed as he examined the circuitry of the massive sensor units. Though large and, yes, primitive the delicacy and symmetry of the circuits and the logic flows connecting them were elegant and beautiful. He made careful note of the power level and data feeds. The protocols he knew by heart. Most modern data protocols, League and otherwise, had long roots back into the Imperium.

"It will work," said Morris. "I'll make it work."

Morris identified what he'd need and worked out the way to get it with the least amount of damage to the rest. Before long they had a very large pile of parts. Lace and Eisley went back to the warehouse and located a few sturdy empty boxes and they began gently packing the components. They had a considerable load to ferry back but nothing they couldn't manage.

They found Harkin and Delroy at the bottom of the dropoff waiting.

"We've been talking," said Harkin.

Delroy lost some of her pallor. She looked up at Morris once then dropped her gaze again. Harkin examined their treasures gleefully. Morris suspected the man did regret not accompanying them.

When the rover emerged from the cave only part of the sun peeked above the horizon. That surprised only Morris since he hadn't checked his chrono once. The tents hadn't moved, they had plenty of air and a tank full of pure water.

"We could go on," said Jackson, "but traveling at night is begging for accidents."

Now that he had what they needed Morris wanted desperately to return to the ship at top speed. Unfortunately Jackson had a valid point.

"We'll stay another night," said Morris. "No sense wasting pure air and water."

Morris crypto-locked the storage compartment containing the Imperium components. He also put an active monitor on it linked to his toolbelt. He considered welding the door shut but even in his fatigued state that seemed excessive. While he worked the others prepared as festive a meal as they could with rations. They all gathered around a large crate with smaller ones for seats. Though eating through a respirator was tricky no one wanted to eat alone.

With a full stomach and a goal accomplished Morris almost fell asleep where he sat. Jackson reached out and stopped him from falling but Morris didn't feel it. He mentioned something to Jackson about locking down and securing the camp and setting watches but then his tent opened its 'lock and swallowed him.

Jackson removed Morris' respirator and told him to rest but only received a snore for his answer.

Lace waited outside the tent with an anxious look on her face.

"Don't worry, lady," said Jackson. "Our Tech may bend a bit but he won't break."

***

They came while he slept. Morris knew he slept and that only the phantoms of his dreams haunted him but his tired body refused to wake from them. Paralysis crept over him leaving him a mere puppet of his own mind.

Lydia was there. She, Harper, Blakeschiff and Kody had harsh words for him. Their injuries pulsed and glared at him as they accused him. Morris didn't understand them but he knew he failed them even without their telling him. Delroy sat off to one side and wrapped him in strange, wrong graphs and diagrams. They vanished almost as quickly as she spun them which only made her work harder. Morris felt an obscene urgency, looked around and found himself inside the fusion chamber.

He wore no suit against the actinic glare and now the antirad tabs burned him from the outside in. He replaced the catalyst rings as fast as he could only to have them vanish all the faster. The chamber ejected him into the power 'net which always malfunctioned just ahead of where he repaired it.

Kelven McCrory waited in Morris' room. He watched the crowds Morris recorded and pointed out a thousand patterns Morris missed. With a disappointed look on his face he handed Morris a capsule. When Morris took it his fallsickness abated.

The beast charged through the holocad. Morris scrambled for his laser but knew the beast would reach him before he could kill it. Then he saw Delroy drawing her weapon. She would kill it. She had a much better shot at it. Then the beam went wide. She missed Morris, the beast, the others in the lounge...

***

"Morris. Wake up, lad, they're gone."

Morris registered these words just before the hiss of a hypo. Iciness rushed through him and helped him rouse through the layers of dreams. When he finally woke Jackson stood over him.

"Are you awake, Morris?"

"Yes." Morris squeezed his eyes. "Yes. What happened?"

"Crystal's gone. I went to relieve Ron and both of them are gone."

"Burnit."

Polov stared at them, frightened. Morris motioned him into a respirator, grabbed his comm and thumbed it to all-call.

"We have an escape. Assemble at the rover immediately."

As soon as the rest assembled Morris verified that only Garrett and Delroy were missing. Something started nagging at him but he had no time for it.

"Scanners, Jared. Find them."

Jackson entered the rover and activated its powerful scanners.

"I have relatively high power levels inside the cave," said Jackson presently. "Nothing but us anywhere else."

As soon as they all boarded Jackson had the rover roaring down the tunnel. Morris didn't really want them all there but couldn't quickly think of a good reason to bar them. He kept his attention fixed on the scanner. As the rover closed the distance the readout sharpened.

Before long it showed positive on two bioforms and as many active power sources. At what must have been the sound of the rover the readings began moving forward faster from a walk to a run. They would reach the dropoff before the rover did but not by long. Morris puzzled over what Delroy hoped to accomplish but came up with nothing.

When the two blips reached the dropoff they merged into a single dot and the scanner hashed momentarily. When the image cleared it still showed two power sources but only one bioform. A sense of foreboding filled Morris.

***

When they reached the dropoff Garret lay near the edge alive but unmoving. A handlight lay a few feet away with its beam splashing against the wall.

"Help, sir," said Garrett, almost incoherent with panic. "She... she's crazy. I... I didn't know what... Help, sir."

Garret's left arm had a nasty burn down it surrounded by a charred hole in his sleeve.

"Where is she," demanded Morris, still half-covering Garrett.

"There, sir." He jerked his head toward the pit.

Leaving Jackson to deal with Garrett Morris picked up the light and aimed it over the dropoff.

"Burnit. Get a kit and get down there, Jared. I'll prep the hoist."

Sprawled on the hard stone at the bottom of the dropoff lay Delroy, still and unmoving.

***

Morris sat outside the rover desperately wanting to pace but stopping himself from doing it. Now the others looked to him, fearful and not bothering to hide it. Jackson still worked inside. He spent a lot of time working before he dared move Delroy and when they did they hoisted her very gingerly up. As Morris drove slowly back to the camp Jackson worked in the rover's limited medical area. He worked until dawn. He worked well past sunrise. Just when Morris' nerves reached the shatter point Jackson emerged from the rover.

"She's alive. The fall did a lot of damage but nothing that can't be fixed. She had good stat-sat levels so I put her in stasis. It was a good freeze."

Morris nodded, glad of that. He motioned to Garrett. As soon as Morris spotted Delroy Rackwell, Eisley and Polov took care of Garrett. Before long they had him back to some coherency though he was still visibly rattled.

"Sir?"

"Tell me what happened. Slowly and clearly."

Garrett took a deep breath. "I just relieved Dr. Harkin. He told me she'd been quiet and when I looked in she was asleep."

Harkin nodded at this.

"I sat down and settled in. I guess I dozed off because the next thing I knew she slit the tent and grabbed my respirator and laser."

"Laser?" demanded Morris.

"I issued it," said Jackson quickly. "It was hers and I thought Culle and Ron were level-headed enough to handle it."

"I agree," said Morris. "Go on, Mr. Garrett."

"She... She had my respirator, sir. She told me I could either find another one or choke on the air. By the time I did she had the laser charged and aimed at me. She told me to grab a light and that we were going to pay the sensors a visit. She knew you killed the commo on the rover, sir, and she said there was still plenty she could do.

"We heard you coming 'way before we got to the drop. She made me run, sir. She said if we didn't get inside the site before you did she'd fry me. I had the light, though, and when we got to the drop I flashed it in her eyes."

Garrett fidgeted. "We... I didn't mean to do it, sir. I didn't! When I blinded her I went for the laser. She... we scrapped and she shot me. I got the laser but she connected a couple of times. I... I just hit back and she hit back and I fell down. I guess she slipped over the edge, then."

Morris motioned Garret to silence. The facts buzzing around inside his head all clicked into place.

"That's a nice story, Mister Garrett," said Morris. "Now try telling me the truth."

Jackson and Rackwell both started at this. Garrett looked at Morris, then them, then back. Morris drew his laser.

"First fact," said Morris, "Crystal Delroy didn't speak when silence would do. Second fact, she was terribly claustrophobic. If she went into that cave on foot she'd have a lightstaff, not a handlight, and you would not be the one holding it.

"Third fact, Mister Garrett, I know for truth you have a lot of time and training in space."

That startled Garrett.

"It's bothered me," said Morris. "I suppose since you had such a good meal when the gravity went off. Freefall affects everyone, Mister Garrett, even me and I of anyone should be the most accustomed to it. Not only did you adjust instantly, which is the mark of a true spacer, but when Ms. Eisley reacted to linking for the first time you reacted just as fast as I did and I've done that before. You also told her it would be easier the next time."

Garrett's expression turned into a mask.

"When we started building the base," continued Morris. "you learned how to operate an exmap like it was second nature. Except for the integrated data system and readout. Workframes designed for use with vacc suits are basically identical except for the readouts. The workframe readouts mesh with the suit systems. Finally, Mr. Garrett, what exactly did you say when I started to walk up the ship's ramp?"

Worry and fear started to seep through Garrett's mask.

"You said 'Careful, sir, she may be juicy.' Quite an adept expression for someone who hasn't spent a lot of time in space."

Garrett looked at Rackwell.

"Answer the man, Ron."

Garrett shifted nervously. When he did a stranger looked at Morris.

"What'll happen to me, sir?"

"That depends," said Morris. "As of now you're an accessory to treason and murder. Those are both serious crimes punishable by death. I think anything you have to say will be an improvement."

Garrett reached under his respirator to scratch his jaw.

"I suppose I'll start at the beginning, then."

"The truth, Mister Garrett," said Rackwell vehemently.

"First of all my real name is Benjamin Lesceaux." Garrett looked at Morris and Rackwell expectantly. "I guess that name doesn't mean much to you but it's got some... incidents attached to it. Before I hit HAR space I was part of a free merchantman's crew out of the Anastasia Cluster."

"Pirate," spat Jackson.

"That, sir, is a matter of opinion. We were operating under a letter of marque from the Consortium and raiding the lanes between two enemies that were close to war. That's when we got caught. A bunch of soggies jumped the orbit on my shuttle and my mates and I were caught, tried and sentenced to hang. That was on a dead-orbit backwater colony settlement on the feces end of nowhere and my Cap'n decided to rescue us and loot the place.

"That's when Daddy Planet's muscle showed up and things heated up real quick after that. Turns out they negotiated protection from the Corpsies and we violated it. Up 'till then we built up a ruddy good haul so the Cap'n decided to divvy up the loot and scuttle the ship so we scattered to the stars.

"I hit the dirt on Port Noble in Kensie space, bought myself a clean, new identity and rode the low-slow to Helene where I decided to start my new life. My new clean life."

"And..." Morris knew there was more.

"After the, uh, accident in engineering, after you got the gravity back on I got a message on my terminal. I know engines inside out, sir, and I can patch any hull back to new but any computers outside that are 'way past my orbits.

"Like I said I got a message. My screen cleared and it told me my real name, what I did, when I did it, my Captain's name... everything. Then it said I would 'perform as instructed or face dire consequences.'"

Garrett looked pleadingly at Morris.

"I didn't kill anybody, sir, I didn't. After we grounded I got instructions to put a blank chip in my terminal. It wrote a while then it popped out. The terminal said I was to put it in the zrock mixer then move it to one of the floats. That's all I did, sir, I swear it. I don't like killing, sir, but I've done plenty of it. That's so you know I mean it when I tell you I didn't here."

Morris let him worry a moment.

"And Delroy?"

"When you... when she was... arrested I figured she was the one. She knew all about computers and she seemed like the type."

"Yes?"

"I didn't mean to hurt her, sir." These words rushed out of Garrett. "I saw how she reacted to putting on her suit, sir. I thought... I thought if I took her deep in the cave where it was nice and dark I could get her to... Hades, sir, I thought I could get her to shut up. Then I heard the rover and I panicked. I was trying to figure out how to get her down those stairs when she tried to run away. I grabbed her and we got turned around and that's when she fell off the edge. I shot myself in the arm and threw the laser away. That's the pure truth, sir."

Garrett sounded sincere but Morris couldn't decide for certain.

"I'll reserve judgment. Jared, I want him frozen."

Jackson nodded, eyes hard.

Garrett rose. He extended his hand to Morris.

"Thank you, Dr. Taylor. Whatever happens to me I enjoyed learning from you." Garrett dropped his eyes before continuing. "I'm just sorry I disappointed you. You too, Dr. Rack."

Jackson moved Garrett, or Lesceaux, into the rover. Morris felt empty inside. Ordinarily he loved the challenge of solving a puzzle whether logical or mechanical. This one left him feeling sick.

A gentle hand touched Morris' shoulder. Lace handed him a tube of steaming hot chog. Her hand delivered a comforting caress and her eyes brimmed with concern and confidence in him. It helped a little. By the time he finished his drink the others were ready to leave. Dawn wasn't far away. Morris thought about leaving the tents and other equipment in place but decided against it. By the time they broke camp the sun had risen and they had ample light for traveling.

# Chapter 15. The Reality

They found the ship and prefabs undisturbed. Morris felt a vague wash of memory but not enough to disturb him. It wouldn't have surprised him to find the ship, prefabs and everything else gone but all stood just as they left it.

Lesceaux made the trip quietly shackled in the back of the rover waiting for the prestasis drugs to reach appropriate saturation levels. He and Rackwell talked a while then Rackwell moved forward. What they said Rackwell didn't share nor did Morris press. At Jackson's suggestion Morris took and kept the secondary position and dozed as he could.

"Right as rainfall," said Jackson after a quick check around the base.

Morris moved his treasures into an unoccupied and very secure prefab with a heavy, armored door. He removed it from the makeshift power 'net and hooked in the fusion plant from the other float. Then he started collecting equipment and before long he had an impressive pile of it. By the time he found the last few parts the life support system had the building full of cool, breathable air.

Bone-weary tired and chafing under unaccustomed command Morris nonetheless enjoyed the challenge of this work. An abstract part of him unconcerned with anything but technology took unabashed pleasure in what he did.

"Morris."

Reluctantly he pulled himself out of the circuitry to find Lace standing beside him.

"You're working yourself to exhaustion. Stop and eat."

Something bothered him about her. Not the concern in her eyes but...

"Your respirator."

Lace pulled him toward the 'lock. She took two respirators from the rack beside it and gave him one. When they both donned them she cycled through. His stomach started growling steadily.

Night had fallen. When Morris checked his chrono he found it well-advanced. The others waited in the main building but Lace hustled him past them and to a plate of rations and tea. This one had a milder and fruitier flavor than blackbean and Morris liked it. Lace and Jackson spoke in low whispers and Morris suspected himself as their subject. When he finished his meal he thought to join them but found himself guided to his bunk.

***

Morris woke tired. The burdens he set aside when he lay back awaited him when he rose. He knew he'd had a good, restful sleep and a long one. His body felt better, now if he could just...

Pushing those thoughts aside he sought breakfast.

"Welcome back to the living," said Lace. "I hope you're with us today."

"I'm fine," said Morris. "Tired but fine. I still have a lot to do."

He looked around. Polov and Eisley worked at tidying and organizing the place. Harkin and Rackwell reviewed holos of the installation. Jackson gathered, sorted and stored medical supplies. That left...

"Garrett."

"Easy, Morris," said Lace. "Jared. We need you."

Morris looked at the big man, puzzled.

"I put Ron in stasis," said Jackson. "It was a good freeze. He, Crystal and Tran are safe on the ship in sickbay. I just wish Tran was as fixable as the others."

***

The joy awaited Morris as soon as he started. Building the thing went along much more easily than he thought and he soon saw the circuits he created taking on an almost Imperial symmetry. Lace brought him a lunch he didn't really taste. She stayed a while after he finished it but his work totally absorbed him. He had to make several trips to the roof to set up and align the hybrid uplink array and every time he did Jackson and Harkin found a reason to be below in case he fell. That thought amused Morris. He knew he wouldn't fall with the job yet undone.

By evening he had it finished. He ran a pair of power and data lines to their main building and connected them to a spare terminal he took the time to purge of all parasites. He blasted clean and powered down all the memory, segmented that and booted the most minimal operating system required to run the display.

"My plan is simple," he explained. "I have no doubt the metavirus is trying to invade the beacon drone. I doubt it can because military systems are hardened and a lot more difficult to crack without internal compromise.

"I'm no pyro burner but I've configured half of this system to look like an enhanced gensat and the other side the beacon drone. When I activate it I'll have a high-density link to both."

"Won't this parasite try to grab it?" asked Harkin.

"I'm counting on that," said Morris. "The code here is hardwired to reflect any sudden changes back to the host initiating them. If my theory is sound we'll convince the metavirus to attack itself. If not we'll at least keep it busy while I work on the drone."

Morris checked his chrono, did a quick calculation and gave Jackson coordinates.

"That's where the drone is now. You should have a good visual. When it launches it should light up the sky. You may also see some frying gensats. Check and verify please."

Jackson nodded and left, taking a chair with him.

Morris contacted the gensats with a low-res connection, calibrating and measuring its response curves. When he had their attention he gradually opened the channel to full pipe. As he suspected the gensats had meshed themselves well outside their normal operational parameters. The mesh acknowledged and then terminated as the metavirus took over. Data shot through the pipe far too quickly for Morris to interpret but the sigma monitor told him what he needed. The gensat side heated up to furious activity.

Morris did his work well. Here he had no shoddy software patches. All of the readings the gensat mesh took came from hardfibered and hardwired unalterable sources. That frustrated the virus. It brought more and more of its resources to bear replicating and mutating madly in the memory Morris provided. He then locked his machine away from the gensat uplink, keeping it active but allowing no data to pass. After a number of generations the metaviral invaders began running out of memory so they attacked the older versions still within the memory. Those copies fought back, albeit feebly, but could not resist their progeny.

That was Morris' cue. When the fourth evolution of deleters spawned he re-opened the link to the gensats and echoed the activity up to them. Readouts around the room uplinked to the gensats went berserk. Harkin's weather monitors reported the atmosphere transforming to a nitrogen-rich vacuum, the deepscanners reported the planet's crust changing to gold, then cheese, and the comm network began playing random bits of interstellar noise which AI analysis routines tried to interpret rationally. And succeeded.

Amid this chaos Morris carefully watched the sigma monitor. As soon as the activity hit a brief plateau he forked a copy of one of the most advanced strains into the drone side of the memory and froze it in place. He hard-severed the gensat side of things and uplinked directly to the drone.

'HOSTILE SYSTEM INTRUSION | ACCESS DENIED'

Morris sent the first segment of the crypto Harper gave him.

'INITIATE LOGIN PROTOCOL'

He keyed the second segment.

'LOGIN VALID | REQUEST INPUT'

'-pr status'

'HOSTILE CODE INVASION DETECTED | CORE PROTECTION ACTIVE'

'-pr status launch'

'FUEL RESERVE 97% | FTL RANGE 37P | CORE SYTEM CONTENT 14%'

'purge core_memory'

'ACCESS TO CORE SYSTEMS IS DENIED.'

Morris keyed the final segment of Harper's crypto.

'purge core_memory'

'ACCESS TO CORE SYSTEMS IS DENIED.'

That stopped Morris. Cleaning the drone of the metavirus required full core system access. He started to sweat. Before long the parasites in the gensat mesh would stop fighting each other, start cooperating and then he'd lose his advantage.

'-x prepare datafeed standard port-density 4 access direct'

'ACCESS TO CORE SYSTEMS IS DENIED.'

Something nagged at Morris.

'-pr status core_system'

'Core system content: 14%, Coordinate-cache: 0%, Logged data: 80%, Mission data: 7%, Network feed data: 5%, Dataloss: 2%'

Eighty percent content on Harper's logs? Not likely. Morris unfroze the drone side of his memory and reflected it through the uplink. The drone tried to block it but failed. The sigma monitor showed chaos in the drone's caches and before long Morris noticed another routine fighting to wipe out everything but itself. Before long it devoured everything else and Morris' screen cleared.

'CORE SYSTEM PURGE COMPLETE | REQUEST INPUT'

Yes. Morris didn't know if he spoke it or not. He began entering commands furiously.

'-x prepare log

'-x receive text -protect -isolate 9'

Morris fed the terminal a dataspool. He included a basic report on what happened along with a plea for help. With the protections he activated the metavirus would be isolated from execution even if it did manage to invade his transmission.

'DATA ENCAPSULATION COMPLETE'

'-x coordinate-feed -set A A 4 9 f0f0 P 2 S A f0f0 L N 0 5 5 B 9 f0f0 a$X9vl_t4E f0f0'

Morris checked and double-checked that. He ran the coordinates and hash on his isolated and purged datapad so he felt comfortable with them. Harper's verification would have been nice, too.

'COORDINATES SET AND CONFIRMED | VERIFY [[a$X9vl_t4E]]'

'-x verify_true

'-hx launch -immediate

'-hx window -min_max

'-hx insertion -standard

'-x execute_held -confirm'

'CONFIRM LAUNCH IMMEDIATE | WINDOW MINIMUM MAXIMAL | INSERTION STANDARD'

'-pr status'

'HOSTILE CODE INVASION PURGED | ENGINES FIRING | CONNECTION ACTIVE'

Morris heard pounding on the wall. The comm crackled to life.

"It launched, Morris. I saw it," said Jackson. "It only lit up part of the sky. Looks like some of the gensats popped, too. You're paying for them if they did."

Morris sighed as relief, and amusement, washed over him.

'-x calculate_ETA'

'PROJECT ARRIVAL: 4D 10H 37M 8.02S'

'-hx logout'

'-hx endsession'

'-hx terminate'

'-hx lock-secure'

'-x execute_held -confirm'

'CONFIRM | SESSION ENDS'

Morris closed his eyes and melted back into his chair. They did it. Hands clapped his shoulder and congratulatory phrases washed over him but he paid them little heed. They did it. They launched the drone and it would arrive in four days plus tariff. Assuming a standard response Dustball would have new visitors in one day plus travel time. After a time Morris opened his eyes.

"What do we do now, sir?" asked Polov.

"I have no idea, Mister Polov. I, however, intend to eat and rest."

"Eat," said Lace emphatically. "We've all been shorting ourselves, especially you Morris. Eat now."

So saying she placed a heaping plate of rations in front of Morris. He ate slowly and savored the extra spice she added. It did little to improve the flavor but the kind thought worked wonders. He even managed to finish the plate. Barely. In his eyes he'd done Jackson a fair challenge. That worthy sat beside Morris, chatting about what he saw.

"... seven evenly-spaced points of light. Placed so perfectly I doubt they were a micron off."

Morris started to explain gensat placement when Jackson clapped him on the shoulder. Then he heard the hiss of a hypo.

"Phase down, Morris," said Jackson. "It's just something to help you sleep."

Morris opened his mouth to protest only to yawn hugely instead. The room tipped sideways and Jackson caught him. He fell into a deep, sound sleep well before he touched his bunk.

***

Morris drifted slowly up from a warm, hazy oblivion. His body and mind both felt totally refreshed. As he concentrated on these details the events leading up to them returned. No doubt Jackson was underhanded and sneaky but he was in the right. Not, thought Morris, that he couldn't give the big man some good-natured grief over it. Something moved near Morris, quiet but making no attempt at stealth. When Morris opened his eyes he saw Lace puttering around and tidying things.

"Good morning," she said. "I trust you slept well."

"Very." Morris checked his chrono and found the hour well advanced into morning. "Perhaps too well. What did Jared give me?"

"A quarter-dose of a very mild sedative. It just relaxed you. You did the rest."

Morris stretched. As he did his grimy clothes chafed him.

"I think I need a shower."

"I think you may be right," she said. "The hot water should be back by now."

Morris scrubbed himself quickly and hard. It felt good to luxuriate under hot water with the end to their ordeal a certainty now. For once Morris didn't regret an empty schedule. Today he would do the minimum needed and save the rest for later.

After his shower Morris lazed until lunch. He made two blessedly mundane and fast adjustments then sat down with the others to a regular portion of rations. His appetite, compensated last night for the time he'd shorted it, shrank back to normal. After lunch he fixed his gaze on Polov and Eisley.

"I notice the two of you have a plenitude of spare time," he said mildly.

The two students exchanged glances then shot Lace an appealing look which she ignored.

"Now is your chance to truly experience League technology," said Morris. "Just think of all the broken things you can tear apart and fix."

Morris thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon, as did the students. They spent it working over the remaining prefabs, repairing what they could or repairing over what they couldn't. With most of the prefabs isolated and powerless they had little trouble and almost all of the infrastructure survived.

"Did the three of you enjoy yourselves today?" asked Jena when they assembled for dinner.

"Yes," said Polov. "I think that's what I'm supposed to say."

"Polar," said Lace. "Because you two are going to clear out and re-prep the infirmary tomorrow. After that Culle has weather for you to observe and forecast."

Rackwell retired soon after the meal. He was still recovering and the hectic past few days had taken a toll of him. After Rackwell dozed off the others had an invigorating game of two-across. Spectres of their ordeal still popped up occasionally but they all saw the worst as behind them.

Morris reconditioned the vehicles the next day. He serviced the rover, replaced what all he removed for his communicator and made sure everything else worked at peak. He didn't expect to need it but the follow-up teams certainly would so he left it in good condition for them.

After lunch Morris worked over the cargo float. It had seen heavy use and needed work badly. He serviced the thrusters, replaced several worn seals and re-synced the gravitics. With the hardware working he pulled the traffic computer out of the almost-empty ship's hold and reinstalled it. He physically segmented the memory into partitions too small to hatch the parasite, regenerated the operating system and added some specific safeguards. He finished well into the afternoon but with quite a bit of time before dinner.

Morris reconditioned the shower. Built rugged and for maximum efficiency it reclaimed up to ninety-three percent of the water it used. Water wasn't a problem here so he reconfigured it and increased the hot water reservoir.

Polov and Eisley discussed their day over dinner. They and Jackson restored the camp infirmary almost to the point of pristine newness. It would need some restocking, of course, but not much of that. They also discussed the weather patterns Harkin showed them, both the ones unique to this planet and the rest common to most. Harkin himself expounded on the unique aspects, again, and again vowed to assemble a course curriculum on it.

After dinner Lace, Harkin, Rackwell and Eisley started a game of Feodality. Neither Polov nor Jackson cared for it so they started a play-for-blood game of one-across. Morris had other plans. Before dinner he moved some of the smaller parts of his hybrid comm rig into this building. He wanted to start taking them apart and Lace refused to allow him to work alone in the other building.

Morris sat in a comfortable chair at a sturdy table with ample light and room to work. He'd recorded every step in creating the communicator now he'd dissemble it with a microscopic eye for any damage to the ancient components.

The beauty of the Imperial circuitry captivated him yet again. Though people called it decadent he wondered if it might not represent a higher order of sophistication. He had no doubt it represented the very leading edge of the Imperium evolved from the overabundance of time, resources and prior research it shared with its antecedents. He measured every aspect of it, sent power through it and watched the logic flows develop.

***

Sudden realization left Morris thunderstruck. All the facts buzzing around loose inside his head came together in a blinding flash of clarity. All of them. He saw the pattern. He saw the inexorable conclusion to which they all pointed.

His reckless mistakes came back with a vengeance. Oh how wrong had he been. Guilt seized him as he saw what his impulsive assumptions and unthought actions had caused. Tools dropped from nerveless fingers as he worked to refine the fact and implication of this new construct.

Morris glanced around. The others sat, exactly as before, with no inkling of the utter danger they now faced. Maybe... Possibly... Morris fervently hoped it wasn't too late. Perhaps he could correct the damage from his horrible mistakes.

Lace looked up at him. Then looked harder with concern etched in her face.

"Heaven's flames, Morris. What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost."

The details swarmed into place. It made sense. It made a hideous abomination of sense.

"I'm polar," he said, weak-sounding even to himself. Perhaps not too late.

Jackson still wore his laser as did Morris, their firearms now a part of their clothing. Not too late...

"Jared." Morris let his voice slur and waver a bit. "I think there's something wrong..."

***

Chaos erupted and things moved entirely too fast. With a speed that belied his years Harkin leapt to his feet. A huge blaster appeared in his hand as if from thin air. Lace, reacting now, tried to scurry backward in spite of her chair. Jackson tried to rise but Harkin kicked the chair out from under him and in a continuation of the same motion positioned himself behind Lace, his blaster leveled at her temple.

"Don't be foolish," said Harkin. "I can and will kill her if anyone moves."

Eisley made a soft terror-sound.

"Move away, Tina. I do not wish to cause you undue pain. Besides, blaster wounds will be hard to explain."

Jackson growled deep in his chest. In response Harkin twisted his off hand into Lace's hair.

"Move back, Jared. I can kill both of you before you reach me. Move now."

The tableau burned itself into Morris' brain. He failed again. In retrospect he realized he should have known Harkin would have extensive training and blinding speed and reflexes. Spies did. And assassins.

"Morris." Harkin spoke conversationally. "Certainly you realize you cannot fire on me without harming Jena. Kindly remove your weapon belt and step away from it. You as well, Jared." He dragged Lace to where he could draw a bead on anyone in the room. "Rack, Greg, Tina, move to the side wall and sit with your backs against it. Then fold your hands in your laps and don't move them."

All of them complied with Harkin's instructions. Lace coughed a strangled sob, terror etched into her face. As he dropped his belt Jackson inched away from Morris, moving microscopically toward Harkin's flank.

Satisfied with their positions Harkin kicked a chair under Lace.

"So tell me, Morris. How did you know? Whatever tipped you happened within the last hour, of that I'm certain."

"Tell what?" asked Rackwell. "What the bloody hades are you doing, Culle?"

"Ahh, ever the inquisitive mind, Rackwell. Morris, why don't you explain to them."

Morris drew a breath. Anything to delay him.

"It's the site, Dr. Rack," said Morris. "It isn't real. It's a fake. It is all fake."

Gasps from everyone except Harkin. Rackwell and Polov both expressed disbelief.

"Oh it is quite true," said Harkin. "It is a false site created with a great cost both in time and in money. I'm told no few workers also lost their lives, tragically. You owe them, Morris. You owe them the explanation of the flaws in their work."

Morris' blood boiled at this but he kept his control of it.

"Details," said Morris. Keep him talking until we can think of something. "You were good. No, very good. But you left too many details dangling."

"Enlighten me."

"First was your knowledge of Guild structure and administration." Morris shifted nervously with each one moving him a millimeter away from Jackson. "Most if not all League citizens are familiar with the Guilds, at least enough to name them, but that's it. Very few outside of historians, some politicians and Guild members have even half of your familiarity.

"Then there is your range of knowledge in general. Once again not unusual except for its extent. You were routinely able to use equipment well outside your scientific specialties even well enough to instruct others proficiently. You did that well enough that I automatically accepted that you could. That doesn't happen outside other Techs."

"And..."

"The float was the final detail." Morris kicked himself for not seeing that sooner. "When your group arrived after the ship shorted Tran told me you knew and he authorized the traffic computer override. It isn't particularly hard to find which is why the penalties for unauthorized use are so severe."

"So far you have me on knowledge," said Harkin, amused. "That's hardly a crime."

"The traffic computer was offline. I deactivated it when I found that metavirus inside it. I pulled the logic core and left it on my workbench in the cargo hold. The only thing left in the float was bare memory and a simple processor. The only way to access the physical machinery to implement the override would be to have a logic core and operating system present. One like that metavirus. I don't suppose you'd tell me how you created it."

"I didn't," said Harkin with a shrug. "It's from our Northern-West Data Corruption department. I suppose they created it."

The Consortium. That confirmed Morris' and Harper's theories.

"But now you've left out a detail, Morris," said Harkin. "All of those point to me but not a single one makes this site a fake."

"Put down your blaster and we'll talk."

Harkin laughed a brittle chuckle. "I don't think so, Morris, but not a bad try." He tightened his grasp on Lace's hair until she whimpered. "I will not bargain. You are now all expendable. The only choice you have is whether to die painfully," He tugged Lace's hair again, "or not. How did you know?"

Morris nodded toward the pile of parts at his worktable.

"I built a working high-res data uplink using salvage from here and components from the site."

"Yes, and you did a most excellent job. We'll need to revise our virus now as well as our assessment of your Technical Guild. I fully expected to be forced into stasis to await rescue. You still haven't answered my question."

"Think back to Spigot," said Morris, weary with hindsight. "It took me four thousand credits' worth of specialized equipment to repair Jena's box and Jared's 'bot. I assume they're still locked in Commander Blakeschiff's personal safe because he never returned them to me.

"My regular tools will not work on true Imperial technology. Even if they would I'd need to massively reconfigure my toolbelt and I didn't. My tools worked as well on these allegedly Imperial machines as they do on modern League ones."

Another detail snapped into place.

"There is also this planet. It is at best marginally habitable." That fact should have alerted League Intelligence all the way to Metropole. "The Imperium picked only the choicest worlds for its strongpoints. There are more inhabitable systems within easy survey distance of this one."

"Brilliant," said Harkin. "You possess a truly keen mind, Morris. I don't suppose you'd consider defecting. No no, don't bother lying to me. We both know I cannot afford to believe you."

Harkin snapped a quick shot into the life support unit and followed it with another pair through the walls. The LS unit sparked, shorted spectacularly and died. He untangled his hand from Lace's hair and thumbed his comm. Morris heard a series of muffled explosions and the lights flickered and switched to battery.

"I'm afraid your posthumous reputation is going to suffer, Morris," said Harkin. "Once you let down your guard it was terribly easy to plant explosives exactly where they will do the most good. I promise you each one will make up the perfect accident."

With his blaster firmly against Lace's skull Harkin donned his respirator. He maneuvered it deftly, not allowing anyone out of his sight as he did so.

"You killed Tran."

"Why do you think that?" asked Harkin, almost playfully.

"He was killed in the middle of drawing his weapon," said Morris. "Shot precisely where a laser would do the most damage. Crystal Delroy couldn't shoot straight and she tended to panic under pressure."

Lace winced at this but Harkin merely smiled.

"Yes. Quite so. I was on my way to infect the rover but Crystal was already there. I suppose Tran saw you or her or perhaps me. Whatever the reason he spotted me when I tried to slip back into my tent. It was a regrettable incident but he was a bit of a nuisance. He almost caught me more than once."

"Burn you." Morris couldn't help those words. The thought of Kody, always so eager to help...

"Civility, Morris. Don't take it personally. It's a job, nothing more."

Sulfur and other trace chemicals began to tickle the back of Morris' throat. He'd have to act soon.

"Tell us why? Is it worth that much just to embarrass the League?"

Again Harkin laughed.

"Oh, Morris, Morris. You think entirely too small. Humiliating the League is always a desirable goal but it pales to nothing against a bloodless takeover of the entire Halcyon region."

Morris' eyes started to water. Jackson hacked a ragged cough and doubled over, blood spraying the floor in front of him.

"What do you mean?" Morris coughed now, his lungs starting to burn.

"I think not, Morris. I really should arrange painless deaths for each of you. It's the least I can do."

"Humor me," coughed Morris. His laser lay yards behind him and Jackson had fallen to one knee.

"Oh very well," said Harkin impatiently. "Since you cannot seem to puzzle it out for yourself.

"Finds of this magnitude are rare indeed. Once it is opened the Halcyon region will sink hundreds of billions of halcies into its development. That represents significant resources to such a small and snug economy. The League may offer to help but with our other agents in place the Halcyon Parliament will see that as an attempt to take it away. If the Consortium shows an interest as well Halcyon will move the majority of its military assets here to guard it.

"When we do attack, well away from here, we will conquer by sectors with lightning speed. By the time they move their military we will have an unassailable foothold. From there it is only a matter of time."

Rackwell started coughing with Eisley and Polov trying not to. Jackson gasped for breath. He gave Morris a desperate look but one with cold purpose deep inside. Morris nodded slightly.

"No, Culle. We won't let that happen!"

Morris' sudden volume drew Harkin's attention. With a roar more beast than human Jackson hurled himself at Harkin. Harkin turned and fired but the big man's hips were now where his head had been. His massive muscles served him well.

Or not. Harkin did manage to hit and the impact from the blaster slammed Jackson back and far short of him.

"Foolish," snapped Harkin as he lined up for another shot.

With a sudden explosion of sparks Harkin's blaster fell in three pieces. Then the powercell exploded and took his hand with it.

"What?" Harkin stared at the bleeding stump of his hand, and then at Morris.

"It's over, Culle." Morris leveled his cutter at Harkin, its marker beam centered on his forehead. "Stand easy and move back. I don't want to kill you."

Harkin shoved Lace forward and reached for his belt. Without flinching, without considering and without remorse Morris fired.

***

"He did a hades of a job," said Morris as the 'lock cycled behind him. "He damaged the rover, the floats and every piece of equipment we need."

Eisley wilted in her chair and Rackwell reached out to her. Lace and Polov worked to stabilize Jackson. Polov looked pale and unsteady but what Lace asked he did.

"He... would," said Jackson.

The amount of pain the man endured stretched beyond Morris' ability to comprehend. Jackson clung to life as tenaciously as Rackwell with a contentious theory. The blaster did him grievous damage but he refused stasis until everyone else was prepped.

"Life support?" Eisley hoped for reassurance but feared she'd receive none.

"I fixed what I can but it won't last long. I want everyone in stasis. Now."

"Green... jolt," said Jackson through clenched teeth. "Double... dose."

"Hush Jared," said Lace. "Don't strain yourself. Morris, do it."

Morris calculated the dosages as quickly as he could. That much of the drug would ensure a high stat-sat quickly but would also kill anyone who didn't go into stasis before the levels peaked.

Morris dosed Eisley and Rackwell first. Green jolt also contained a fast-acting sedative so he hurried them into the stasis fields.

"So close," said Rackwell, already drowsy. "So ruddy... frosted... clo..."

Morris sealed the field and turned it so that Jackson could see the readouts. While he froze Rackwell Morris sealed Eisley.

"Go, Greg," snapped Lace, doing a calculation of her own.

Though Jackson's life ebbed quickly he refused the jolt. While he configured Polov's field Lace held up a hypo behind his view, an anxious look in her eye. Morris nodded again.

"Jena..." Jackson barely whispered.

In response Lace injected him.

"N-nn..."

"Hush, Jared. You."

Morris began working the big man into the stasis pod. He speared both of them with foul looks but he knew Lace had given him no choice. Though it cost him most of his life he configured the field.

"Mo-rris..."

Morris leaned down, his ear close to Jackson's lips.

"Take... temperature..."

That did it. Hot tears spilled out of Morris' eyes as Lace activated the field. It hummed softly as it powered up, then the telltales all turned green. It was a good freeze. They all were.

An arm across his shoulder. A soft warmth enfolding him. The sound of grief, both his and another's. How long they held each other Morris didn't know or care. Finally, exhausted, they drew apart.

# Chapter 16. Confessions Of Youth...

"Hades of a spot we're in," said Jena.

"All truth, no blather."

She waited a while before speaking again.

"So how long do we have?"

"Plenty of rations." He chuckled at the irony there. "Likewise water. As to air I can salvage some from the rover. We have some respirators. I can patch the LS unit but I doubt it will last long. He knew just where to shoot it."

"How long do we have?"

"Four days. Maybe five."

She did the math. Morris already had but saw no reason to share it.

"And we have at least six days left. Torque."

A lone tear slid down her cheek. He reached out and brushed it away.

"There's a good chance we'll make it, Jena. This close to the margin plus or minus twenty percent is not an unreasonable error."

"Blather," she said, but without punch. "Are you telling me or asking me?" She scooted close to him. "Morris... Hold me. Please, just hold me a while."

He put his arm around her and held her. Hard. She took his free hand in both of hers. She trembled, but silently. Morris silently offered what comfort he could but that summed up to not much.

***

Morris woke with Lace curled against him, his muscles sore and cramped from sleeping in an awkward position. When she sensed he was awake Lace looked up at him. Her eyes were red and she'd obviously been crying, silently.

Morris prepared two plates of rations.

"You should eat."

"So should you."

Morris raised a soyabar in toast and tucked in. After a few minutes she did likewise but she picked more than she ate. Then she took out a drugstick, thought about it and put it back.

"Go ahead," he said.

"But..."

"It's polar. That part of the LS is working perfectly. It's the toxic extractors that aren't."

Though doubtful she lit the 'stick then finished it quickly.

"There. That will do for now." Then the momentary cheer left her eyes. "For a lifetime, I suppose."

"Don't think that way. Don't give up just yet. We're still alive and that always gives options."

"Truth, I suppose." She smiled. "I'm alert, alive and alone on a whole empty planet with only Technician Morris Taylor for company." Her smile widened. "For truth, when we started this mission I'd have traded my soul for this situation. Now that I have it I only want out."

"What?" That shocked Morris. He thought he misheard.

"Oh yes. When I first saw you I decided I would do my best to arrange a private concert for two with only us singing."

She smiled at the stunned look on his face.

"Unfortunately for me you were ruddy well impervious to all my little lustful innuendos. Then, just when I decided you were a robot Lydia joined the band. I don't know what she did but she did a frosty good job of it. At first I was jealous but when you finally opened up I realized you were way too much for me."

"What?"

"Truth pure and pristine. Morris when you pair up it will be strong and solid and intense and fifteen different kinds of polar but it will be for life. I envy the lucky lady who ends up with you but it won't be me. I like variety and I'm not ready for a deep soul-shaker yet."

"But..."

She put a finger to his lips.

"Hush." She smiled when she said it. "I don't know why you don't see what the rest of us do but at least Lydia started you down that path. You need to not underrate yourself, Morris Taylor. You've done too much of that already."

"But..."

This time she used two fingers.

"Full truth and no blather, Morris, I try with all my heart not to hate. Sometimes it's really hard but it's always worth it. I don't know who put in your head that you're not thermal drooly with a side order of brilliant but I would be sorely tempted to break my rule on them."

Before he could reply she took the plates and stacked them in the corner. He checked the LS. It was working but could stop at any second. She brewed a small cannister of tea and poured two cups. She sat and patted the seat beside her.

"Tell me about Acre," she said once he sat.

"Long and boring story."

"We have time."

Morris told her. He told her of the vast and flat farmland that made up the world he no longer called home. He told her of the joys, trials and tribulations of growing up the only child for many kilometers around, of the rare occasions when the farmers and their families gathered for celebration or loss. He told her of learning to fix the machinery by virtue of doing it and of learning how it worked as a matter of course.

Finally and with great difficulty he told her of the Lynch-Waters commune and its Mineral Union thugs and solicitors who took his father's land for the dubious content beneath it.

"He had a job," said Morris, speaking of his father, "but not a life. He just slowly wilted away, like a versoy plant without water. Mother tried to survive without him but she just couldn't. She loved him so much. Once she knew I'd be able to make it..."

The anguish of memory tore Morris apart but it felt good to talk of it, to tell someone about it.

"That's when I took the Placement. I qualified for full scholarship and once I reached Academy I never looked back."

Jena brushed his cheek gently.

"Such a shame," she said.

"Whyso? I loved Academy."

Jena shook her head.

"You and Crystal are so much alike it's scary." She shifted herself against him. "She'd kill me for telling you this," Here she smiled at the irony, "but what the hades? I knew Crystal a long time before we went on this mission.

"We both attended Sylvan University on Sylvan Hold. I was majoring in Biology and she was doubling in Computer Theory and Information Structure and Analysis. We were assigned as roommates because we both rode the same shuttle down.

"She was a different person then. You don't know, Morris, but she could never, never do what... You were totally wrong about her."

"I know." Guilt ripped his heart at that. "I was bone-dray stupid and I acted with no thinking involved. I wish I could pay the price instead of Tran and her. And the rest of you."

Jena put a comforting hand on his shoulder. After a while she continued.

"She was a lot warmer and more open then but still pretty shy. She also didn't believe she was double-thermal drooly with soft-orbit curves but she was. Hades, she still is. As is the usual story with roomies we started hanging out together. I don't remember a time I was without a boyfriend but she never had one. She and I doubled a few times but she never took it past that. At the time I thought that was important."

A shadow passed over Jena's face.

"That got us to our second year, last term. We were close to finals when it happened. She was snoozing through some obscenely-higher mathematics, that was always easy for her, when this bottomfeeder from the Golden Society asked her for some help. I was with her and I almost fainted. I thought he was top exot and that we'd been given an opportunity.

"Crystal helped him with his math but nothing else. He didn't impress her, she wasn't interested and she didn't care if he knew it. That phased him full out of sync and when he decided he'd had enough he decided to invite her to a Golden Gateway. That's usually only for seniors or really special others. I couldn't believe it. Then she turned him down and his arrogant ego just couldn't accept that. No mere sophomore would dare turn down a Gateway."

Pain clouded her face.

"I didn't believe it either. I smiled wide and told him to sit still, grabbed her and headed for the fresher. I gave her a lecture to pull hydrogen out of a hypermass. I told her to waggle back out there, tell him she was joking, mean it and tell him we'd love to go. She pulled it off and I knew we were on our way. Before long we'd have a social life worthy of us."

***

Jena fidgeted with her dress and then with Crystal's. Neither of them had a lot of money so hotfash was out but Jena was a past master of improvisation. Frustratingly, Crystal refused to glitter her hair but at least she allowed a lightribbon braid.

"I feel ridiculous," snapped Crystal. "Why don't you just go without me?"

"Phase down and ground." Jena absolutely did not understand how her roomie could think that way. "This is top exot, center of the sector and zone into Metropole, vix. This night we are destined for greatness."

"Well thermal torque." Crystal took a hit off her 'stick then scowled as Jena misted her with perfume. Again.

Before Jena could start another round of adjustment their dates arrived. Jena's was everything she imagined: tall, strong and immaculate hair with a hint of glit. They both presented flowers pierced and interwoven with thin optical fibers that flickered, glowed and sparkled. Each also cost more than Crystal's and her dresses combined.

Jena faced innumerable challenges at the party. She had plenty of competition and the ones who made it here played for blood. Nonetheless Jena showed herself equally ruthless, dancing first with one and then another but always her escort when he asked. The general party separated her from Crystal almost immediately but surely she could handle a few dances.

Much later Jena realized she hadn't seen Crystal for a long time. She'd had a fairly steady stream of stellar maidens and it took her a while to add up the hours and minutes. By then she forgot what she wanted and why. She puzzled it over another maiden when someone grabbed her arm.

Something was happening. No, Jena corrected herself, Some Thing was happening. A few of the Golden Boys she'd graced with a dance hinted at a grand pinnacle of entertainment for the evening but none gave any details. Then, with an electric thrill through her, she noticed people quieting down and disappearing by pairs and small groups to the back courtyard.

The crowd's attention centered around a small cluster of bushes ideally placed for pairwise personal pleasure. Jena smiled at the phrase, even though she kept it to herself. By the sound of things another couple had the same thought and acted on it. She looked around for Crystal who probably shouldn't miss this.

Suddenly the man in the foliage gave the Golden Yell.

Floodlights burst to life, flooding the area with harsh revelation. She was naked, he nearly so. Whooping and yelling he began to dance around her as she searched in vain for her clothes.

"Ho-ho yi-yi, vix. See what you almost missed."

With a jolt that shocked her to sobriety Jena realized just who was there.

***

"It was awful," said Jena. "Awful. I... I tried to get to her. I was too drunk to get there fast or straight. By the time I did she realized someone had stolen her clothes. I tried to wrap something around her but she shoved me away." She wiped her eyes. "Bastards. They were laughing. Those bloody swine-raping bastards were laughing. They thought... They thought it was hilarious."

Jena drew a long, shaky breath.

"That was the grand joke of the next semester. They called it 'The Incident' and before long I swear there wasn't a person on the planet who didn't know about it. Crystal filed a grievance of course. Nothing came from it. No. Nothing against their precious Golden Society. They said they'd consider it and waived her tuition for a year. And they laughed about it in their offices.

"She moved out of the dorms after that. I saw her once or twice and I tried to talk to her. I tried to tell her... the truth? I don't know. That I was sorry? I was but she acted like she didn't even see me. Flames, maybe she didn't.

"Crystal graduated with highest honors a year and a half early. I was at her graduation but she left before I could see her. The university president was in the middle of reading all her honors when she walked across, ignored the holocaster and got her diploma. She didn't even shake his hand. That torqued him off but she had what she needed."

Jena wiped her eyes again.

"That was the last I saw of her until this mission. I didn't even know she was on Dracos 'till she recommended me for it. She's pretty high in Mollover-Thisk. High enough that when she talks they listen and when they talk even the Navy listens."

That impressed and surprised Morris. Then, as he thought on it, it wasn't that much surprise.

"When I found out," said Jena, "I thought all was forgiven and that we were back to being old friends again. That wasn't the case. I was wrong. She changed. All I could see was the surface. I was so wrong, Morris, and I didn't find out the truth 'till almost too late."

Morris took and patted her hand.

"I understand," he said. "I'd hate people too if that happened to me."

Jena shook her head.

"You don't understand at all, Morris. Neither did I. She doesn't hate people. Ask Greg or Tina or any of her other students. As long as they do their best she's with them 'till they break. She loves people, Morris, she just doesn't trust them."

"Heaven's flames." When that sank in the sheer magnitude of what Morris did hit him hard.

Jena saw it in his face.

"Yeah. I can't ever like what you did to her, Morris, but I understand why you did it. So will she." Jena balanced on the verge of saying more. "Just remember that, Morris. Promise me you'll remember that. She will understand."

***

Later that day the air recycler sounded an alarm and died. Morris and Jena donned respirators and he examined the unit. He patched as best he could and it hummed to uncertain life. That night they both slept with their respirators close.

The next day Morris used a precious 'lock full of air to go outside and scavenge. He looked for any batteries he might have missed, spare respirators, air tanks or any other thing that might help him filter the air. Jena looked askance at the collection of barrels and tubing he brought in but said nothing.

That evening Jena slipped into a brooding silence. In an attempt to pull her out of it Morris recounted some of the more interesting experiences he had either by himself or interning a trainee. Jena's eyes shone with sudden animation.

"Morris. The vacc suits have..."

Hating himself for doing it he held up one of the vacc suit packs. He thought of that too.

***

Later that night the recycler died again. The alarm woke them both and they donned respirators quickly. Try though he might Morris simply couldn't fix the LS unit. He did get it started briefly but it died again even before he could seal the casing. He looked at it critically.

"It's gone." Then after a pause. "There's nothing more I can do."

Jena nodded with resignation.

Morris shrugged. By his calculation they had respirators for another day or so.

***

Morris and Jena ate their rations in silence. Now, with decent sunlight, he took the recycler apart and dissected the filters thoroughly. With Jena's help he assembled his tubing, buckets and barrels into a gravity-fed vacuum pump and filter. He filled the appropriate vessels with water and the thing slowly came to life. He attached the recycler's oxygen-pass and CO2-pass filters so they had basic scrubbing and water-based filtration. That would help but it still let in some of the deadlier trace elements and compounds.

"We need to keep the top tank full," he explained. "The downward water flow is what drives the rest of it."

Jena smiled at the contraption and spent quite a while watching it move, pump air, bubble it through the water and force it through the filters.

"I don't know what it'll do for the air," she finally said, "but the sound is relaxing."

Morris smiled at that. "I'm glad you like it. My vote is on annoying."

Later, after rations, as Jena watched the filter Morris sensed a change in her mood.

"Morris, I want to tell you how much I've enjoyed working with you."

That chilled him. "We're not dead yet, Jena. Unless you..."

"No. Never. Not that, Morris. Never that. I just... Flames. Without you here I'd have given up days ago. I've never been so scared in my life but you're always there. You helped me through so ruddy much and I just wanted to thank you while I still can."

"I'm frightened too, Jena."

She smiled wanly and shook her head.

"Only when you can afford it, Morris. Mallory picked well. You shed fear the way you ignore sleep when there's work to do. You use whatever tools you have to fight 'till the very end... to keep us alive a few more hours."

***

They didn't bother with rations the next morning. The gauges on all the respirators read empty and had for a long while. Morris knew they could live on the air in the room a while but not for the two more days he calculated as the earliest possible arrival time. Two days of active links, he thought. They could live off the air and it would nourish but they'd also receive a hefty dose of the bad chemicals. Morris had no idea what the gruesome compounds would do to them, then he realized he'd soon find out.

He gave Jena the last semi-good respirator hours ago. She curled against him and breathed as shallowly as possible. Occasionally she squeezed his hand and he returned it but they didn't speak.

***

A double-boom of supersonic thunder threw Morris off the seat and dumped him on the floor. He fought to balance himself, failed and grunted when Jena landed on top of him.

"What the... Why can' they lea... us 'lone." Jena slurred the words badly.

Morris fought to concentrate. This was important.

Then, with the voice of angels and the power of the one microscopic battery Morris didn't touch, the comm came to life.

"Attention F37A base. This is the LNCN Saffron Snow. We are approaching your location, make no hostile moves. Do not establish contact past basic voice. No data, no hires uplink. We have your perimeter covered and we will meet hostile action with equal or greater force."

"They're here." Excitement washed away Morris' stupor. "Jena. They're here. We're safe. Burn it all we're safe now."

Whether Morris threw his arms around Jena or she him neither knew. Giddy from lack of oxygen they held tight until they heard the ships circle again.

"Attention Saffron Snow. This is Technician Morris Taylor. Please bring oxygen. We're out of it."

"Saffron Snow acknowledge. What is the status of your mission?"

Morris looked at Jena.

"Negative, Saffron Snow. That will take more air than we have here."

Morris would have said more but Jena lifted her respirator and his and kissed him long and hard and squarely on the lips. When she finished he was giddy from more than lack of oxygen.

In a move that surprised Morris as much as it did the hapless rating Morris threw his arms around the man who brought them oxymasks. Out of courtesy and consideration he stepped aside to allow Jena to do the same.

Packing personal effects took little time given their concentration in one building. Naval ratings assisted by a pair of midshipmen supervised the loading while another group entered the burned-out ship. They loaded the stasis pods quickly and efficiently and a squad of Marines in full formals gave Kody's body due honor. Even as Morris' and Jena's shuttle lined up to take off Morris saw other TACBoxes waiting to land.

The Saffron Snow surprised Morris. She was a light cruiser complete with complements of tacfighters and patrol boats. She was also not the usual class of boat sent on rescue missions.

***

Morris sat outside an office and waited. One Lieutenant Caleb Grimley scheduled interviews first with Jena and then with Morris. He spoke with Jena a long time and still showed no sign of releasing her so Morris sat and waited. He had no secretary which left Morris with nothing but a reader and a stack of journals. He finally chose one and began reading.

Morris' interview with Grimley left him exhausted, drained and certain he should have waited before seeing the ship's medic. Grimley had a good idea from Jena what all happened and he questioned Morris on it nanoscopically. He finally terminated the debriefing after Morris gave details he didn't even remember knowing. In triplicate.

"I have one question," said Morris. "How were you able to respond so quickly? Even under RFP with over four days for the drone to reach you you should have..."

"We received the drone six days ago," interrupted Grimley.

Morris did a quick calculation.

"That's impossible, sir. That would be before we..."

Grimley held up his hand. "I said six days. Jena Lace was muzzy enough to have lost track of a day or three. Are you?"

Morris considered that. He heard rumors of a much faster beacon drone...

"Yes sir," he said. "Six days. I'm glad you were able to act so quickly, I wish it had been sooner."

"Very good, Technician. We'll be a long time traveling back to Dracos. I look forward to some interesting conversations. You will also disregard any rumors that we were waiting at the bare edge of LINC comm range from Halcyon space with active links plotted and hot."

They made the trip in multiple stages. Morris never quite managed to debark whenever they stopped. Grimley or a Navy rating informed him they replenished in orbit or they just stopped for a nav fix or several other things he didn't bother to remember. He also suspected orders from on high to keep himself and Jena apart. He wanted to talk to her but whenever that happened one or more Navy personnel found something to do exactly where they happened to be. Apparently the Navy didn't want them together, which left Morris a lot of time to think.

The Saffron Snow just started her second link when the medics decanted Harper. They worked on her over six hours then pronounced her days away from health. The second day they allowed Morris to visit her.

"Morris," she said raspily. "It's ruddy good to see you."

Morris considered saluting but gave her a hug instead. She smiled a moment then her expression turned serious.

"I've read some reports, Morris. You did a hades of a job. You may be tempted to agonize over things you might have done differently. Don't. Am I understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

Next they began decanting the less-injured personnel. They started with Rackwell and once each was reliably conscious Morris and Jena paid them a visit. Naval personnel swarmed them, of course, but Morris didn't mind. It did his soul good to see them uninjured and safe. The last one out was Garrett. This time a pair of Marine guards joined the others on the visit but he seemed to expect it. He expressed genuine gratitude that Morris and the others chose to see him.

***

With two hops remaining to Dracos and the ship well within the League they decanted Jackson and Blakeschiff. Morris visited the commander with no small trepidation.

Blakeschiff didn't glance up from the datapad propped on his chest. Finally, though, he acknowledged Morris.

"Technician. It's good to see you."

"You as well, sir."

"Won't you sit?"

That was different. Morris snagged a chair and sat. Blakeschiff remained silent a long time.

"I misjudged you, Mister Taylor. People tell me I'm prone to that. You did an outstanding job, Technician, well above any duty or sane obligation anyone could place on you. You have my highest commendation. And, for what it's worth, you have my respect. You acted in an exemplary fashion in handling a situation that was entirely not of your making. Don't forget that."

"Thank you sir." Aware that his Article 27 was still in effect Morris stood at attention and saluted. "You are an outstanding commander and I'm proud to have served under you."

Blakeschiff returned the salute. Then he held out his hand.

"Thank you, Technician."

His grip was firm and unreserved. Then he smiled briefly and nodded toward the doorway.

"Now get out of here before I go sentimental too."

The medics worked a long time on Jackson. They took several hours to decant him plus an initial eight-hour period afterward. His injuries combined with being near death when he entered stasis would leave him in a coma and in an automed for several weeks yet they did save him. Morris felt both glad and sad at this. Although he could be abrasive Jackson was a man Morris was proud to call a friend.

Morris found it more ominous that they would not decant Delroy until they arrived on Dracos with its extensive medical facilities.

When the decanted team members recovered sufficiently the Saffron Snow's captain conducted the service for Kody, Transient-Sparkle-of-Moonlight-From-The-Flower-Beside-A-Peaceful-Pond. Morris wept openly as did the others when they cycled the 'lock. The captain proudly announced Kody's promotion from midshipman to ensign, tradition for gallantry under fire, along with a citation for service above and beyond the call of duty. By custom the duty fell to Blakeschiff to write Kody's family but Harper and Morris handed him letters of their own.

***

The last stage of the trip, just after the Saffron Snow entered link for Dracos, the court martial convened. Morris knew about it forty-five minutes beforehand when a young rating brought him his full formal Guild uniform complete with the Navy service tabs worn by enlisted Techs.

Morris sat impassively and listened to the proceedings and the occasional interjection from his advocate. The others were there and showing everything from extreme apprehension to outrage to absolute disbelief. Jena looked at him with worry brimming out her eyes but Morris simply shrugged. He knew and had not forgotten that from the time Harper invoked Article 27 he was a League Naval officer.

The ordeal lasted two days. Morris listened to testimony and, when asked, answered any questions the court had. He saw and recounted his missed assumptions, bad decisions and all the other things that should have told him of something wrong. Through it all, though, Morris knew and stated that his actions helped keep alive eight people who would otherwise have died. At the end of it he stood by his decisions both good and bad.

The deliberation lasted seven hours and twenty-six minutes.

"Technician Taylor, please rise."

Morris and his advocate stood.

"Mister Taylor it is the finding of this court that you acted properly and in full accordance with the Naval Articles of the Member Worlds of the New Stars Sovereign System States Trade League."

A murmur started from Morris' friends.

"It is the opinion of this court that you acted in a timely and most exemplary manor in dealing with a situation out of your control and well beyond your experience. It is the recommendation of this court that you receive the League Citation for Heroism for your actions during this time. It is also the privilege of this court to relieve you of the duties and obligations imposed by LNGS Article 27. The Navy is proud of your service."

Relief. Final relief and a warm wash of other emotions flooded Morris. A hundred hands wanted to shake his or clap his shoulder or just touch him.

Afterward they all ended up in a conference room with Grimley and two others who dubbed themselves publicity specialists. Between them they concocted the official story that would be released and that the team members would endorse. Official transcripts and documents would go to Guild authorities and other necessary recipients but those records were sealed. Once they reached the right understanding Grimley worked up the synopsis for the media.

By Morris he received entirely too much credit. He didn't want it, he didn't deserve it and he could find no way to avoid it.

# Chapter 17. A Lifetime Ago

Morris watched Dracos grow on the holovee. the Saffron Snow wouldn't land, she couldn't, so no one needed to strap in. The others were there in the lounge with Morris but they chatted quietly and respected his silence. The planet finally grew to fill the screen and the view changed to an approaching shuttle. Morris faced Rackwell, Polov and Eisley.

"I enjoyed working with you, Dr. Rackwell," said Morris. "That's far short of adequate but it's the best I can do. I hope to return and finish teaching my course one day."

Rackwell pumped Morris' hand.

"Of course you will, my boy. I shall insist on you and no other."

Polov shook Morris' hand with less vigor but equal sincerity.

"Stay persistent, Mister Polov, and don't let yourself believe for one milli that you can't accomplish something. Set your goals high. I know you will attain them."

Eisley skipped the handshake, threw her arms around Morris and hugged.

"I'll miss you, sir. I'm so glad I got to study under you."

"You're a fine student and an excellent hand at fixing things, Ms. Eisley. Set your goals high as well and don't forget what you learned. I'm very glad you decided not to drop my class."

"Is there any way we can convince you to stay here a while?" asked Jena simply.

"No, my dear," said Rackwell. "We are sorely tempted but the League offered us the chance to study at the University of Metropole on Driikar. The semester is starting soon and I don't want us to miss it."

Morris smiled to himself. He'd already written the Tech Guildhall on Driikar with his recommendations for Polov, Eisley and Rackwell if he so desired. He knew his fellow Techs would take care of his friends.

***

The shuttle dropped slowly toward the starport where this had all started... how long ago? Morris didn't bother adding up the days. For him it was a lifetime.

Morris and Jena parted company with Blakeschiff and Harper in a lounge that might have been the one from which they started. After a few last kind words a clerk brought a message that reps from Jena's company and Guild officers were en route.

"You have my combo," said Jena.

"Yes, and you have mine."

"I don't want to lose touch with you, Morris Taylor."

"You won't. I don't have so many friends that I can just lose one. Besides, I promised you an introduction."

"You did. To a Tech who would answer my questions. Make it soon."

Jena's people arrived then. After a brief introduction to the president of the company branch on Dracos and his executive assistant Morris found himself briefly alone with Jena.

"This is not goodbye," she said. "This is to make sure you really do call me."

Morris had his hands open for a hug but Jena stepped in and kissed him. Hard. Squarely on the lips. With his lips still tingling Morris hugged her back.

***

Jake Reichsson hadn't changed at all. He had a few more white hairs and he looked even more solid. He still had a power-vise grip and the smile he gave Morris warmed him in a way he didn't know he missed. With him stood a tall and lanky man wearing senior coordinator tabs.

"Holy heaven's flames, Morris. You've been through hades and back, lad." After engulfing Morris' hand in his own Reichsson held him at arm's length and examined him. "Good to see it didn't break you."

"What?" asked the other man. "One of our own break? That's blather and plenty of it." He offered Morris his hand. "I'm Ted Paoly, Senior Coordinator for this sector. It's an honor to meet you."

"And you, sir," said Morris. He felt the calluses on the hand he shook. Paoly hadn't forgotten his toolbelt.

As they walked Reichsson and Paoly talked.

"We powered up your apartment," said Reichsson, "but you may want to stay at the Hall a day or three. The media got word and they're already swarming our doors."

Just what Morris did not want to hear.

"Relax, Morris," said Paoly. "This is one of the things I handle. With your permission I shall take the press release the Navy so generously furnished, add what details you deem necessary and release it as our official and only word."

"Thank you, sir," said Morris. "I would appreciate that, truth pure and simple."

Reichsson chuckled. "Six sigmas on the beam, lad. We'll see to it you have an uneventful arrival 'till things settle down."

***

When Morris arrived at the Guildhall he found a surprise waiting. Reichsson told the truth but certainly not the whole of it. Reichsson the Unfailingly Blunt, Unsubtle and Straightforward tricked Morris cold. As soon as Morris cleared the door the lights came on and Kelven threw himself toward Morris.

"Great mother nebula," said Kelven with a hearty clap on the shoulder. "It's plain wonderful to see you, pure truth and no blather."

Thrusting words aside Morris embraced Kelvin like a long lost brother. He couldn't speak over the cacophony of all the others in the room cheering: every Tech on the planet he'd trained, several more who had worked with him, many who could claim some connection and more who could not.

Morris felt a wash of kinship, of camaraderie he'd never felt before. These were his brothers and sisters, his family, and now he felt it. After a while he managed to isolate himself with Kelven.

"So how have you been?" asked Morris.

"Good. Nothing exciting happens here."

"Not a bad thing. Excitement isn't worth its hype. So how is Ty doing?"

Kelven shook his head mock-sadly. "Alas, we are no more. We parted friends not long ago. I still have her combo, though. Dinner and dance, just friends?"

Morris chuckled. "Not right now but maybe later. For now I have someone I want you to meet. She's looking for a Tech to answer her questions."

That startled Kelven.

"You've changed, Morris. I remember when the sight of this many people would send you to a far orbit." He looked at Morris appraisingly. "I've read part of the report. Was it... that way?"

Morris shrugged. "Kel, when you've stared down the barrel of the blaster that's going to kill you being mobbed by friends just isn't scary. I'll talk later, no blather. For now I just want to relax."

"Slib double-plus. Shall I call Sylvie?"

"Only if she has leather and oil and knows how to use them."

Morris and several others laughed at the stunned look on Kelven's face.

***

After a quick look outside the next day Morris decided not to leave the Hall. Media sharks, hawks and aces swarmed every entrance all hoping for a glimpse of The Tech. After he grew restive in the library Morris rose and started walking. Before long his feet took him to the 'prentice workroom. Apprentice Techs sat at benches and tables there and worked to repair small and not-so-small items people brought them. Morris mentally kicked himself for not thinking of this. Here was the rebuttal to the high prices the Guild charged. The people who brought the items knew the 'prentices would be working on them, possibly with uncertain results, and the Guild didn't charge for the service.

All the 'prentices recognized him. A murmur washed the room, only to quiet wherever his gaze rested. Finally one of the 'prentices stood up and walked over.

"Good morning, sir," said the young lady, smiling brightly. "Are... are you here to inspect us?"

Morris examined the benches and tables and tools and equipment and other paraphernalia scattered through the room. He looked at the eager and sometimes anxious young faces all staring back at him with expectation or sometimes worry. Most had their toolbelts but visibly lacked the skill with them they'd develop before long.

"For truth," said Morris, "if you don't mind I'd like to join you."

After a few long moments of silence one of the 'prentices cleared space. Morris sat, picked up an item, read the tag and started working. Before long conversation resumed and the people sitting around him started to relax. Then one of them came up to him with a question. The mildness of his answer and the thoroughness of the explanation impressed the 'prentice asking it and further relaxed the others.

After that first 'prentice returned to his seat another came with a question. Conversation resumed and more and more of the soon-to-be Techs brought Morris their questions. The confidence he saw in the ones he helped filled Morris with a satisfaction he normally associated with completing a truly difficult repair.

***

The next day fewer sharks swam around the Guildhall. Perhaps some other sudden sensation captured their interest. Morris cared not about the why he simply enjoyed the what. Kelven finished his assignment early so they met for lunch.

Morris told Kelven everything. He talked of Lydia, Kody, Harper and Harkin. He talked about Delroy and what he did. He talked about the last few hours with Jena, of teaching his class and of killing a man. Kelven listened through it all and it helped Morris to unburden himself, finally.

"Thanks for listening, Kel."

"That's what friends do, Moe. Just don't forget it."

Midafternoon Morris received word from Jena that Delroy decanted and was doing well. As Jackson said her injuries, while extensive, responded perfectly well to treatment. She also wrote of several official-looking men present when Delroy revived.

***

The next morning Morris received a message summoning him to a particular conference room. When Morris arrived he saw Paoly, several Coordinators he didn't know, a handful of Senior Masters and R. Drew Poltano, Senior Arbiter for the Unified Guilds.

Morris' heart sank. Reichsson mentioned the likelihood of a board review but Morris hoped he wouldn't face one. After a brief execution of formalities and introduction of the review panel they began questioning Morris.

The board reviewed every aspect of every action Morris had taken. They probed the why, the why not and the what else of everything he did and did not do. Morris showed himself no mercy. He knew his career, his life, perched on a balance and the Board would brook no evasion or diminution of responsibility. His good actions he defended as such and to his bad ones he posited possible alternatives. He did not overstate the former or understate the latter.

Through it all Poltano sat stone-faced and impassive. Whether Morris spoke with passion or simple explanation Poltano's expression didn't change. Once or twice he nodded.

When they finished with Morris one of the Coordinators rose.

"We have here a document that the court martial did not. It is the sworn and witnessed statement of one Doctor Crystal Anne Delroy."

Morris braced himself. She would condemn him, of course, and rightly so. He felt badly not for the punishment he would receive but for the brutal way he'd certainly earned it. What he did to her was unconscionable and nothing the Board could legally do to him would make things one milli better.

Then Morris listened to the words.

"... and in conclusion, though I do not agree with the actions Technician Taylor took I can see how his erroneous conclusions were drawn. What he did was reprehensible but given the factual errors, incorrect assumptions and misinterpretations his conclusions were unavoidable. He was not responsible for the physical injuries I sustained and he did in fact work diligently to repair them. It is my earnest hope that in the future he will endeavor to be absolutely certain of his facts before acting upon them. Signed, sealed, Delroy, Crystal A., PhD, ScD."

Morris couldn't believe what he heard. When he glanced down at the datapad before him the official transcript said exactly the same thing. That mattered little since Morris still faced a plethora of bad decisions. The Arbiter called a recess pending decision and isolated the review panel.

Morris picked at his lunch. The range of possibilities of what the Board could decide flowed through his mind. He tried not to dwell on the worst and partly succeeded. Every Tech in the Hall knew the board had convened. Some knew why. It heartened Morris to see encouragement, defiance and calm certainty in the faces around him. Though all respected his silence they still managed to voice their confidence in him.

The panel signaled a decision two and a half hours after Poltano sequestered them. The board reconvened minus the arbiter, who conferred with them concerning their findings. Twenty minutes later the panel entered the room followed by Poltano, still wearing his stone face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, come to order please," said Poltano.

Morris rose and faced Poltano, his face expressionless. Regardless of the outcome he'd shown himself honestly. He determined to face his judgment without flinching.

"Technician Taylor. It is the duty of this Review Board to uphold the high standards of quality, integrity and ethics required of every member of the four Unified Guilds. These standards were established at the founding of our League and have been honed over the many years of its existence.

"The purpose of these standards is to ensure that every Guild member on any planet within or outside of the League performs the duties required of him or her in a proper, ethical and exemplary fashion."

Morris steeled himself.

"Over the course of your testimony you admitted to making more than a few erroneous choices with less than optimal results, some of which subjected both League and Halcyon citizens to dangers that could have been prevented. Is this correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Indeed." Poltano consulted his datapad. "During the time in which your review panel members were isolated they were allowed access to certain classified documents prepared by League Intelligence. These documents detailed the extraordinary measures the Consortium took to place its agent in our midst. They also postulate the degrees to which this abhorrent individual was trained. Suffice it to say that both were quite extensive and chilling.

"Ultimately, Technician Taylor, the question I posed myself and the members of your review panel was 'Could you have done better?' The answer to that question was a unanimous 'No.'"

Morris felt a thread of surprise but clamped it down quickly.

"In simple fact, Seigneur Taylor, if I restrict myself to only the standards set forth by the Technical Guild your performance was excellent. I, however, choose to apply the full measure across all of the Guilds.

"By those standards, Technician, your actions move from merely excellent to truly outstanding. The situation into which you were thrust was well outside anything for which you were trained and certainly anything within your experience to date.

"You presented and judged yourself impartially, Technician Taylor, and I commend you for that, but in so doing you totally disregarded the rare and amazing degree of leadership and command you exhibited. You ignored the simple fact that ten people including yourself are alive thanks to your actions and choices. You also dismissed the fact that a potential disaster of interstellar magnitude was prevented by your discovery of the falsity of this Imperium site.

"Technician Taylor it is the finding of this Review Board that you acted in a fashion above and beyond the standards set by your Guild or any of the others. This means, of course, that the vote of this Board is for no censure whatsoever."

Morris sat by virtue of gravity alone. Numb with disbelief he watched as Poltano, the panel members and then the board members signed and sealed the acclamation. No censure. None. The board members, relaxed now, spoke softly with each other. Poltano hadn't finished, though.

"Technician Taylor, will you please rise."

Somehow Morris managed it.

"By prerogative of the office I hold I am going to usurp the privilege of your Guild and your supervisor. When Senior Supervisor Reichsson received your report and the other details of your mission he gave a recommendation. When this board convened he reiterated it in spite of and with no knowledge of any of the details revealed during its course. His recommendation was that you be elevated from Senior Master to Junior Supervisor. Again by unanimous acclaim this recommendation has been approved. Congratulations, Supervisor Taylor."

Poltano eyed the rest of the board critically as they signed and sealed this.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the board, is there any business remaining?"

None.

"In that case this Review Board is adjourned. So let the records show."

At that moment the doors burst open and a knot of cheering, whooping Techs led by Kelven McCrory swarmed in, hoisted Morris onto their shoulders and departed just as loudly. As the jubilant group noised its way through the halls Paoly leaned over to speak to Reichsson.

"There stands a fine man. He'll do us proud."

To which Reichsson responded. "He already has."

***

A week later Morris left and entered the Guildhall with impunity. No sharks swam at the entrances and no aces lay in wait for a scoop interview. A huge political scandal broke out on the other continent and, like rotflies to a decomposing carcass, the media drones swarmed there now.

Morris felt good on moving back into his apartment. Even better now that he had more furniture and other accessories. On her first visit to see him Jena took one look at his apartment and frowned so hard Morris thought her cheeks would fall off. She then bullied him into agreeing to a change of decor and offered to help him with it. He liked the result. The apartment, always his, was now much more him. Jena's changes, though subtle, made a galaxy of difference.

Now Morris changed into his casual attire, gray cloak and trousers, white shirt, penlaser and minikit, and left for the restaurant. Tonight would be special.

The Respite looked especially good to Morris. He missed the place and the company. Kelven waved from a booth and Morris joined him.

"I'm glad you made it, Morris. I know tonight's your celebration night but you've been known to miss those on occasion." Kelven looked at the menu. "You ready to order?"

"Not yet. I'd like to enjoy the atmosphere a while."

"Polarity." Kelven winked and ordered nibblers and drinks.

Morris surreptitiously checked his chrono. Right on schedule he saw Kelven's attention wrenched toward the doorway.

"Great mother nebula, Morris. Take a look at her."

Morris turned his head.

Her hair shone like polished gold. A ribbon speckled with gem chips winding through her shining locks only heightened the effect. She wore little makeup but needed none. She walked with an elegant nonchalance that drew every eye in the room to her. She paused a moment to look casually around the room. Then, on spotting her target, she sauntered gracefully to him.

"Hi Morris," said Jena with a quick hug and kiss. "I hope I'm not too late."

"Of course not," said Morris with a wink Kelven couldn't see. "Jena, I'd like you to meet Kelven McCrory. Kel, this is Jena Lace. She is... interested in Techs."

"Charmed," said Jena sincerely.

Kelven's reaction was everything Morris had hoped. He gaped like a fish on sand, tried to speak and finally managed to climb to his feet.

"Likewise, Signora."

"That's Jena."

Morris seated them with Kelven between himself and Jena. When she pulled out a drugstick Kelven fumbled at his pockets. Morris, who finally remembered to buy a lighter, used it to grand effect.

"I'm buying, Kel, so I assume your tastes haven't changed."

Morris left, giving them time to break the ice. When he returned Jena wore a warm smile and Kelven a sheepish grin.

"You are a dirty dog, Morris," he said. "I hope you enjoyed your little prank."

"Truth pure and plenty of it," replied Morris.

After dinner they walked to the club next door. While not totally out of favor primate had declined in popularity. With drinks served and a table claimed Jena grabbed Morris' hand.

Morris still danced poorly but he absolutely did not care. He was on the floor with a gorgeous lady who attracted more eyes than his and he had faced fates a thousand times worse than being a bad dancer. When a slow song started he led her back to the table.

"I'm going out for some air," he said, "but I will be back, no blather."

Outside in the pleasantly cool air Morris leaned against a rail and gazed upward.

"Hi," said a voice beside him. "Light?"

Morris used his new tool for the second time. The lady smiled and leaned against the rail with her arm against him.

"Nice view, yes?" she asked.

"It always is. Always different and always the same."

"One day I'll visit them, for truth. I've never been offplanet but I think there's so much interesting stuff out there."

"It's overrated," said Morris. "There's interesting stuff there, sure, but I can think of something a lot more interesting and that is right here."

Laughter.

"I like that," she said. "I'm Shelli. With an 'i.'"

"I'm Morris," he replied. "With... an 'M.'"

"Tell me, Morris with an M, what do you do when you're not looking at the stars."

"I fix things."

Shelli wound her arm under his.

"Do you dance?"

"Badly."

"Polar." She pulled gently toward the club. "I'm a good teacher. Six sigmas."

Back inside Morris spotted Jena and Kelven at the same time she saw him. Shelli tightened her grip on Morris' arm when Jena put hers on his shoulder.

"We're going to get better acquainted, Morris. I think I may keep him a while." Jena gave him a kiss on the cheek then spoke to Shelli. "Take care of him, sweets. He's worth it."

Shelli pulled Morris toward the dance floor without speaking. When the lights flashed across her Morris found her easily as gorgeous as her voice sounded. A slow song started and she smiled and snuggled herself against him.

"Polarity, Morris with an M. The secret is just to relax."

As she claimed Shelli was indeed a good teacher. A very good teacher. She and Morris danced until the club closed.

***

The next morning found Morris outside the Guildhall. As soon as the media frenzy died down Reichsson ordered him to take at least a week's vacation. Now, one week later, Morris sat in Reichsson's outer office.

"Six-sigmas punctual," said Reichsson, motioning him inside. "I didn't really expect you to take me up on the 'at least' part. I suppose you want an assignment."

"Yes sir. Work is good. It pays my bills."

"Such as are," said Reichsson with a chuckle. "Sorry to disappoint you Supervisor Taylor - now that has a nice sound to it - but you're to receive training. Supervisor is more than a title and a pay grade. It's a job and I expect you to perform it well."

Reichsson eyed Morris evenly.

"I realize you don't like politics, Morris, but they're not going away. The Guild needs people who can treat them with the distance they deserve and who can go around them when necessary to do what needs done."

Morris shifted uncomfortably at this. Reichsson hit close to home.

"The simple fact is the F37A mission was a pizzle party orbit-wide. Rumor says Intelligence had one or more agents present in the mission staff."

That stunned Morris.

"I don't know who they were," continued Reichsson, "or technically even if they were but if so then they rutted the puppy. What I do know is it could have been a disaster for the League and the Halcyon Region even if the Consortium didn't try to invade them. That's the silver bar in the cesspool.

"The League and Halcyon both decided that it's in their mutual best interests to increase trade and commerce between the both. They want to continue and expand the training program and to develop classes and curricula that will transfer both ways. I don't suppose I need to tell you that both governments are also going to study the hades out of the F37A installation."

Reichsson smiled at Morris' expression.

"All truth, no blather," he smiled. "Before long that place will be full of scientists and other scholarly types all studying every aspect of every thing there. The Consortium almost pulled off the biggest hoax Intelligence has ever seen and rumor says their Department of Strategy and Planning is on the opposite side of the galaxy from happy about that. Bet me ten credits they won't be absorbing every scrap of data that comes off that planet."

"Sucker bet, sir."

Reichsson grinned. "The Guilds also want to be involved in this. More so the training programs than the exploration but involved all the same. That involves establishing LINC beacons on the route to F37A which means our Guild will need additional experts on Helene. That way we'll all have a stake. Of course this also requires a Guild member, preferably from the Technical Guild, who can supervise the training and help with the other details."

Morris shifted very uncomfortably at this.

"Our hypothetical supervisor," continued Reichsson, "must have a wide range of experience, a very strong set of ethics and integrity, the ability to handle himself under pressure and, of course, be an exemplary Tech. Can you think of such a person?"

"Not one who wants that kind of responsibility," said Morris.

"I know, Morris, but the one I have in mind is the perfect candidate for the job. Even when he doesn't particularly like the assignment he gives it full effort and usually earns a bonus on it."

Morris thought hard for a moment. "Was that the plan when you assigned me this mission?"

"Great nebula no." Those words exploded instantly out of Reichsson. "Heaven's flames, Morris, if I'd known even half the details Harper gave you I'd have refused on behalf of the Guild. Bet me Poltano wouldn't've backed me on it, too. No, Morris, all I knew was what I told you."

Morris nodded. He believed Reichsson.

"You know I'll still need to pass the Junior Supervisor certs and exams."

"Which you will in the high orbits. None of this will happen instantly and you'll have ample time to study, pass cert and prepare for your new duties. So. Will you accept?"

"Will do, sir, pending sufficient accomplishment on my exams."

Reichsson smiled, rose and offered Morris his hand.

"You also know the Guilds will be backing you six-sigmas on this. You won't be alone."

"I know, sir. Believe me when I say I know it better than I've ever known it before."

Reichsson nodded. "In that case, Probationary Supervisor, I'll let you start your studies. Oh. On a slightly less professional note please consider taking some more vacation. It's mildly embarrassing to the Guilds in general and ours in particular to have a new supervisor with over seventeen months of accumulated leave."

"Yes sir."

Morris smiled as he left Reichsson's office. He knew his bonus pay added up but the bonus leave time surprised him. Perhaps he would take another week or two. Later, though, after he passed his cert.

When Morris checked his messages he found one from Jena.

'Morris: Thought you might like to know. Crystal's being discharged from the hospital this afternoon. Luv, hugz 'n' smoochies. JL.'

This afternoon.

Today.

***

Morris stood outside the door to her room. He held a bouquet of flowers. Buying them seemed like a good idea but now it felt ridiculous. Still, there were no trash bins nearby. After a long time thinking he still had no idea what he wanted to say nor any idea how to say it. He didn't need to be here, she didn't need to see him, she'd live her life with this time an aberration on it. These thoughts plagued him and turned him away to leave. Then the guilt and shame at what he'd done and the gratitude at what she wrote turned him right back to it.

If he left she would never know.

If he left he would never forget it.

The decision was taken from Morris' hands. As he stood there knotted with tension the door opened and an orderly stepped out.

"Oh, seigneur, there's no need to wait. You can go in now." And the man held the door open.

***

She stood, a silhouette against the window. Her jet-black hair cascaded down past her shoulders and framed the face every bit as beautiful as Morris said. She turned to face him when he walked in.

"Good afternoon, Specialist."

"Technician." She spoke without meeting his eyes.

"Um..." He handed her the flowers.

She took the bouquet, sniffed it and placed it atop her bag.

"I... I wanted to say," stammered Morris, "thank you for what you did."

"I told the truth, Technician."

"Yes. But... you didn't have to. I... Thank you. I hope... someday, that is... you can forgive me."

She looked up for a bare instant.

"I ahh... I talked to Jena."

"She told me."

"Oh." Morris couldn't meet her eyes. "What I did was inexcusable. I know there aren't any words I can say to... I know you hate me. I know an apology isn't anywhere close to good enough but it's all I can offer."

She spoke after a moment of silence. "I don't hate you."

"You should," he mumbled, eyes still down "I understand if you do."

He turned to leave when he felt a touch, feather-light, on his arm.

"Technician... I don't hate you. I don't want to." Briefly, no longer than she'd touched him, she smiled. "Given just the facts I know... I do understand."

"Thank you." He still couldn't meet her eyes. "I don't deserve it." He saw the flowers on top of her bag. "I don't know why I got those. You can toss them if you want."

"No," she said. "You gave them to me."

A lady walked in the room with a professional smile and a datapad.

"Signora Delroy? Good. Let me have your signature and you're done here."

She read the 'pad, signed it and gave her retinals.

"Thank you Signora, Signor." She smiled at both of them as she left.

"Shall I carry your bag?" asked Morris, his mouth working on its own.

"If you like." She turned and walked toward the door.

Morris picked up her bag and followed her. Outside the building she stopped for a pack of drugsticks. Morris tried to organize his chaotic thoughts.

"Are you Intelligence?" he asked, then realized how stupid it sounded.

"No," she said simply. "Are you? My graph said there might be one."

"Not me."

"Nor me."

"So you were just... trying to help."

Morris didn't need her slight nod to make him feel even worse. Given what Lace said about her that made a lot more sense. She walked toward a linear station across the plaza.

"Walk beside me," she said softly.

At the station she checked the schedule, lit a 'stick and sat down to wait. Feeling awkward Morris sat beside her. The silence grew as did the tempest inside him. Finally, when the boards displayed her linear the pressure within him reached its peak.

"Specialist... I'm not good at this and you have every reason to hate me for it but I'd like to talk. I don't know what about and I don't know why but I do know I don't want you to board that linear right now."

After an eternity she spoke.

"I told you I don't hate you. I won't hate you. I don't want to hate you."

The sincerity in her voice made Morris look up. This time she met his eyes and trapped them within hers.

"I want to talk to you, too."

Morris felt his face smile and her smile returned. Her brilliant, bright, beautiful smile returned and stayed. He remained lost in it until he realized she had spoken.

"What," he mumbled.

"I said I'm a little hungry."

"Uhh..." Morris looked frantically around the plaza.

She stood. "We'll find something."

Walking closer with each step they started back into the plaza. Behind them the hovertran arrived and eventually departed.

* * * The End * * *

# Chapter X: Afterword

Thanks for reading my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If so please consider giving me a review at the retailer where you downloaded it.

If you're interested in more information concerning the League please check out my blog and Facebook pages. In addition to notes about writing, life and programming you will find data about the League, its Guilds and general comments on an average citizen's life there. These were kindly provided by Dr. Ferdinand Kincaid, a noted and well-published League archivist and member of the Artisan's Guild.

In addition to writing books I'm also an open-source Java developer. My magnum opus in this world is Matt's MathTools, a Java application designed to help design and format mathematical things for written (or HTML-based) tests or worksheets. If you find that interesting please visit the site and grab the software. Several tutorials are provided and all of it is FREE!

About the Author

James Matthew Cox, Jr. was born in Texarkana, Arkansas and he grew up on a farm seven miles outside of it. His mother made sure he learned to enjoy reading at an early age and his father made sure he learned to enjoy science fiction, also at an early age. Growing up, his heroes had names like Asimov, Bradbury, Clarke and (E.E.) Smith.

After graduating high school James completed a Bachelor's degree in Computer Science and a Master's degree in Mathematics. He then spent many years as a college math and computer instructor. His writing career began in junior high school and, after many years of practice, he finally decided to do something about it.

Blog: <http://themoldyripegrape.wordpress.com/>

Webpage: <http://moldyripegrape.wix.com/newstarstradeleague>

Facebook Book Page: <https://www.facebook.com/NewStarsTradeLeagueArchive>

Facebook Personal: <https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005061257303>

Twitter: @moldyripegrape

Matt's MathTools: <http://www.sourceforge.net/projects/mattsmathtools>

# Chapter Y: Preview

Presented here is a brief description of the first five books in the Stone Blade series, set in the same universe as A Pattern of Details. The main character, Micah Stone, starts out in life as an ordinary guy stuck at the bottom of the food chain on the dismal planet of Caustik. An unlikely chain of events throws him out of his go-nowhere life and into one of interstellar adventure and intrigue.

If you enjoyed A Pattern of Details, please check out these books too.

Stone Blade (#1). When Micah Stone left work late he started down a path to change the fates of more worlds than his. Forced into his planet's military, he excels. Then kicked out by a coward, he joins the League Marines. Haunted by demons of his past he enters a world of shadow and intrigue and must face a planet of foes with only two friends to help him. Success means survival. Failure is not an option.

Double Bait (#2). Robin Macy, more comfortable in the virtual world than the real one, is a law-abiding and hard-working data tech until her online boyfriend vanishes. When she shows her skill by tracking him she lands in the clutches of a charming criminal only to be rescued by two people almost as scary. Now she must decide who she can trust as danger and intrigue shadow her every step.

The Radical Factor (#3). The Semids are a peaceful people and staunch League friends and trade partners. When a group of interstellar terrorists detonates a nuclear bomb at the dedication of their Peace Spire the Semids call on the League for help tracking them down. Micah Stone and his team then embark on a journey of action, intrigue and interstellar trade to track down the ones responsible and bring them to justice.

The Burning Crown (#4). Failing a mission can cost Micah Stone his life, that's not new, but success may cost him his friends! A trail of defective parts that fail in combat leads Micah to the Starcrown sector: a tight-knit group of rival Noble Houses. He and his team must untangle a complex knot of plot and counter-plot to find who is sabotaging the League. What stands between him and success? The lives of his friends.

Expedient Measures (#5). Politics can be hazardous to your health! When Micah Stone and his team are assigned to help with elections in Grakis Major, they enter a quagmire of bickering unions, vicious crime cartels, squabbling candidates, apathetic citizens and yellow-armored security guards who fight like elite military. Behind it all they find a massive conspiracy to disrupt dozens of economies, including the League's!

