

#

Mission Beyond The Stars

Book #1 of Saga Of The Lost Worlds

by

Charles Neely and Grady L. Dobbs

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# Revised Smashwords Edition

# © Copyright 2000, 2012 Charles Neely and Grady L. Dobbs

# ISBN: 9781301493425

# All rights reserved

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Mission Beyond The Stars:  Synopsis

In a densely populated stellar cluster high above the Milky Way, entire solar systems have vanished, leaving no trace, no clue to the cause, and no idea of who the perpetrators might be. The distressed leaders of the Kepren Cluster Alliance developed a defensive evacuation plan so desperate that their determined opposition prevented its implementation.

Then a third populated Alliance system disappeared.

Agreement was reached. Their desperate plan was enacted.

Three years later, a single planet disappears, orphaning its artificial moon—the "Wasp"—and trapping the members of its crew. The Wasp's new trajectory catapults it on a direct path to a mutually destructive collision with Kepren, the Alliance's central governing planet.

If Kepren is destroyed, the entire population of the Cluster Alliance will be forever doomed.

The remaining robotic overseers cannot handle the dire emergency, so a small team of select individuals must return from their distant evacuation point to avert the impending devastation, resolve a cosmic intrigue, confront a conflict of universes, and prevent total disaster...

An adventurous tale of conflict in space, Mission Beyond The Stars is an intricately crafted work of speculative fiction that incorporates faster-than-light ships, inter-dimensional transport, multiple universes, and unplanned time-travel. Memorably real characters are woven together in webs of cosmic confrontation and quiet courage, maddening mystery and mystical metaphysics, clashing intrigue and quests for higher consciousness.

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Please note: You do not have permission to reproduce or change any portion of this EBook in any way, nor is permission granted for distribution of the remainder of or any other parts of Mission Beyond The Stars in any form. or for storage in or introduction into a retrieval system, or for transmission, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without written permission from the authors or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

For permission requests, questions or further information regarding Mission Beyond The Stars, please email us at:  HogaInfo@Gmail.com

All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of its characters to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

# Table Of Contents:

Cover Illustration

Copyright And Distribution Information

Synopsis

Mission Beyond The Stars

Prologue

Chapters 1 - 58

Epilogue

Authors' Note

Appendix:

# 1: Regency Coalition Pronunciation Key

# 2: Characters: Earth, Kepren, Coalition, Cronul

# 3: Terms, Objects And Places: Earth, Kepren, Coalition, Cronul

# 4: Basic Time Units (Conversion Chart: Earth, Kepren, Coalition)

# 5: Relative positions of Earth and Kepren in the Milky Way Galaxy (image)

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# Mission Beyond The Stars

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# PROLOGUE

Had any signal been sent from Kepren to the distant outer planet of the remote Alpha Byreen system only ten years before, it would have gone unanswered; no living being would have been within many light years of that inhospitable region of space. On the rare occasion of its sun's closest approach, the planet was barely warmed enough to force even its smallest glaciers into short retreats up starkly bare mountain valleys. No sentient creature had ever roamed its bleak landscape nor swum beneath the thick icy shields which completely blanketed its frigid oceans.

Therefore no note was taken when the planet had been assaulted. Its skies had suddenly filled with a massive armada, which converged on a huge mountain near the planet's equator. The primordial stillness had next been shattered by horrendous explosions. Then gigantic machines— behemoths whose combined size rivaled that of the beleaguered mountain, and whose power obviously more than a match for it— landed in the newly cleared zone around the mountain's scoured face. Two great holes soon gaped in the mountain, one at its base and one at its peak. Then the entire mechanized army had disappeared into these openings.

The besieged planet had completed a full orbit of its sun before the resolute construction army reappeared. Huge boulders were shaped and stray chunks of broken stone were heaped around the smooth entrance, closing the artificial opening in the mountain's face, returning it to an unremarkable appearance, strewn with apparently random piles of rubble.

Then the conquering armada had departed—leaving Alpha Byreen III seemingly as untouched as in the eons before they came.

Yet, hidden deep within its mountain, A multitude of tunnels radiated, branching distantly from a great central chamber. Within that chamber stood a translucent obelisk, glowing with rhythmically flowing symbols: a crystal chronograph, marking the soundless passage of time, waiting for its alarm to sound.

Sanctuary-1 had been constructed.

# 

# CHAPTER 1: Alliance

Alarms clamored throughout the underground science lab at Mathlen on Kepren. No living person was there to hear. However, machine intelligences responded faster than any person could have. The sudden, complete loss of communications with the planet Chadalmencondra had been a precursor to the alarm. Then the clanging died as suddenly as it had commenced, leaving an eerie silence. This was soon followed by an incoming signal:

"Wasp to Mathlen! Mathlen Science Lab, record. Mayday! Mayday! This is Commander Agriel on board the Wasp. Less than one minute ago— at 0326 hours, 22 Catalin, KY109— Chadalmencondra vanished. A visual record of the planet's disappearance will follow this transmission. It strongly suggests that the fabric of space in this region has been altered.

"Should visuals and telemetry arrive garbled, the following report is to be accepted as authoritative.

"In the region of space occupied by the planet Chadalmencondra, a luminescence bounded by a pale violet haze was detected. Within this boundary appeared faint and distorted images of previously unidentified stars in Chad's sky. The region initially wavered and fluctuated in size and clarity. As it moved closer, its boundaries became sharper and more well defined.

"Observation: It resembled a ghostly window or a torn picture whose tear revealed another image behind it.

"This 'window' or 'tear' moved through the near space region as a unified whole and approached Chad. Chad seemed to pass through this window...which then closed, returning the appearance of space to normal, except for Chad's complete absence.

"Our vessel's instruments detected total loss of orbital lock and immediately sounded the alarms.

"The Wasp acquired an unexplainable and problematic spin when we lost orbit. Primary access ports are now located in the area of greatest spin and cannot be approached safely. Our new polar regions contain only personnel-sized escape hatches, so we currently have no means to directly dock with any incoming ships. The automatic safeties have activated, dividing the Wasp into several air-tight compartments. We have been unable to override this automated response.

"The reactor and bridge areas are not accessible; we are unable to use the reaction propulsion systems for either incremental delta-v course change or spin stabilization.

"These anomalies have incapacitated the majority of our primary ability to act as the Communications Relay Command Center for the entire Kepren Cluster Alliance.

"We are currently confined to local communications, sleeping quarters and stores. Ship's atmosphere is under automated control only. Our condition is momentarily stable. We have enough air, food and water to last indefinitely.

"Advise us of your findings on our situation as they become known.

"One moment, please...

"As I speak, I have been handed a note saying that we are now on a vector toward Kepren. Commence tracking the Wasp immediately. Advise when closest approach to Kepren will occur... as well as any possible rescue options.

"Agriel out."

Well before the report from Agriel had concluded, several widely separated tracking stations had begun focusing on that distant dot in the sky. The coordinating machine intelligence, VSDI (Visual Sensory Digital Integrator) Unit #473, digested the rapid flow of information from the tracking stations. Had any living person been present, they would have experienced increasing concern over the ominous data displayed on the huge viewing screens in the Mathlen Science Lab complex.

The main viewscreen displayed the region of space between Kepren and the location Chad had— until recently— occupied. On this screen blinking light traces progressively coalesced to reveal the projected path of the Wasp. A living operator might have blanched with horror as the picture so relentlessly formed on the screen, but VSDI evinced no sign of emotion as he activated the alarm switch under the plate marked "Sanctuary-1, Alpha Byreen III."

# CHAPTER 2: Alliance

Deep within the mountain's hibernation complex, ADIZ— Advanced Digital Integrated Zythertron Unit Number Thirty-Two— gracefully propelled his humanoid form through one of the long corridors inside Sanctuary-1. ADIZ raced ahead at top speed, becoming a silver and bronze blur. No emotion—not impatience, nor desire—was possible within his programmed positronic brain, yet any sentient observer would have noted his alacrity of movement. His three years of infrequently interrupted power-down in this mammoth cavern of echoing silence had finally come to an end.

Although his urgent mission would soon require a thorough check of long unused transportation facilities prior to his departure, ADIZ moved unquestioningly and unerringly toward a different destination. He quickly reached and deactivated the sounding chronograph's alarm and the piercingly strident tone stopped. He felt electronic relief, yet the driving force of its meaning remained.

Stepping quickly into a recess of the adjacent wall, he extended a socket from his hand into its matching receptacle. A rapid energy transfer took place, evidenced by the quickening of an array of lights and gauges covering one wall. With the system check complete, deep subterranean rumblings reverberated, testifying to the awakening of powerful machinery.

ADIZ's thoughts returned to his surroundings and he moved toward the docking bay. Clearly a robot could have thoughts, stemming from responses to both initial and experiential programming. But he could not be troubled by those thoughts; they were generated purely by advanced functions and sophisticated logic. Thoughts—even questions—existed, but only for functional reasons. When he questioned how long he had been on standby power, his internal timer reported the answer to the exact nanosecond.

He passed through a short branching corridor and emerged onto a platform hanging over a vertiginous drop to the deck below. A discolored metallic stairway led from the platform down the face of one wall of this giant chamber. ADIZ ignored it. Without pausing, he stepped from the platform into a floorless cylindrical cage, instantly spread his arms and grasped two opposing vertical stabilizing rods, then plummeted downward. When the floor loomed close, He gripped the stabilizer-rod brakes tightly, slowed, and landed lightly on his feet.

The chamber's dust-shrouded air of solitude was eerily accentuated by the silent descent of snow through the newly revealed gap in the mountain's peak; the force field covering had dilated. In the snow-dusted bay, all but a single transport ship stood still and mute. Thrumming sounds escaped from an illuminated opening in that craft's side, echoing the generators quickening far below.

He entered and assumed his station, a stark recess in the forward bulkhead. He closed the hatch and touched a lighted panel. Multi-colored dots of light brightened, activating other screens. The cabin pressure decreased to a near vacuum, which would be maintained throughout the flight.

Rising through the cavernous opening in the mountain's top, the vessel rapidly accelerated toward a glowing cylindrical tube now forming nine light-minutes away at an angle perpendicular to the plane of the planetary system.

ADIZ reviewed the mission directives summary.  My mission cannot abide failure, yet I may not use force. Those crucial to the success of my mission must accept me. The mission has been planned well. I will succeed.

The ship had been en route for less than an hour when ADIZ refocused his attention toward the growing, radiant tube in the sky. Its long axis stretched into the depths of space. Its sides reflected and distorted all visible light sources like an endless fun-house mirror. Points of light were stretched into light-lines. Curious rainbow arcs of light swirled around the tube's entrance.

The ship slowed as it approached the fully formed InterSpace tunnel. As it moved closer, the number and size of these multi-colored arcs grew larger until, as the ship reached the tube's mouth, the portal was large enough to receive it. ADIZ monitored all phases: the ship's movement into the glowing green interior, the radiance's growing brilliance and the portal's apparent closing.

Sweeping circular waves of mint-green luminance engulfed the ship and catapulted it forward.

#

# CHAPTER 3: Coalition

"Officer Laytonn, that new arrival...we've confirmed that it's different from all the others we've logged." The insolent frown on Special Aide Braang Pezzer's face did not escape the notice of the attractive woman with flame-colored hair who sat opposite him.

"Cut the commentary; just supply pertinent details." First Science Officer Laytonn Eebri leaned forward, riveting Braang with her gaze.

Pezzer shrugged nervously and slowly exhaled. "A day and a half ago..." he checked the time record, "...49.4 hours plus, a lone planet appeared half a light year from Kiideeni Prime. A ship in route to Kiideeni reported it after their proximity detectors suddenly went crazy in a region of space previously devoid of any such object."

An unaccustomed flush tinted the Science Officer's face a pale pink. "A planet...just a planet? Not a system?"

"Correct, Officer Laytonn. A lone planet, without a primary." Braang hastened on, seeing her scowl. "Oh, we don't think it was occupied...uh," his eyes darted rapidly, looking for the right word. "I meant to say that evidence indicates it once had been inhabited, but apparently was evacuated before the capture." He paused but, when he received no response, continued. "We found vacated structures buried in the newly formed ice shield. We also detected some faint machine-based transmissions from several sub-surface locations."

"What is the drift rate—and does it a threaten any of our own habitats or installations?"

"No, it's traveling on a path away from any of our stuff, at only about a twenty KPS."

"Nav-lanes?" snapped Eebri, locking her flashing emerald eyes on his.

Flustered, Braang blushed and stuttered, "Yes, Sir...I mean ma'am...er...Officer Laytonn. We've already added its position and vector to our charts, so it won't pose any navigational hazard." He began gathering in his notes, hoping the debriefing was about to end.

His hopes were dashed as Laytonn continued. "What about danger to other systems?"

Finally Braang relaxed.  Go for a joke a scientist would love, he thought.  Maybe it will crack her stony demeanor. "The planet is headed for deep space and it won't intersect the nearest solar system for over 20,000 years...so we should have plenty of time to warn them." He finished with a chuckle, but choked on it when he saw her frown.

"Has Lord Ptoriil been apprised of this new phenomena?"

Pezzer looked even more uncomfortable. "Er...no, he hasn't...not yet." He paused, looking down, shuffling his feet a little. "Officer, I was hoping you would take him the information. I realize this will aggravate his political situation and... well, I thought he might take it better from you!"

"Thank you," Eebri smiled tightly. "However, be aware that flattery will gain you nothing... but trouble. In this case, it is appropriate that I provide the information— plus I have to meet with him shortly."

Pezzer thought, I'll just bet you do!  All he said aloud was, "Thanks."

As Officer Laytonn dismissed him, he decided to go back and recheck the entire incident, just to make doubly sure that everything he had told her had been done as indicated. Pezzer returned to the command chair, reflecting on how demanding and unrewarding his "promotion" had proven.  Ha!... "Special Aide," my conniving excuse for a father's left foot! All it means is that I got a token title and got stuck in this hot-seat in the middle of a no-win situation. I don't dare miss anything that would bring Laytonn down on my back.

Kretch! For such a decidedly soft and fine-featured woman as Eebri, her well-earned reputation for hard-as-rock discipline is remarkable. Letting his gaze slide lower as she walked away, he thought, Of course, she's remarkable in other ways, too, but....

Eebri headed toward the executive offices. She knew that Braang Ktor—one of Lord Ptoriil's most capable supporters—was Pezzer's uncle, but she could detect none of Ktor's elegance or erudition in this nattering nephew. An impish smirk briefly shadowed her face.  Is Pezzer genetically related to Ktor, or did a Caarzovian throwback slip in somewhere?

She was oblivious to the furtive lecherous glance tossed her way by Pezzer. Normally, such a look would not have gone unseen—or unpunished—but her mind had entered into its now legendary deep and focused concentration. For despite her inarguably distracting physical form, it was Eebri's formidable mind—capable of a scientific precision and political intuition matched by few people within the Regency Coalition—which had won her the high position of Chief of the Coalition Science Agency.

Her mind raced unflinchingly, searching for the point where the puzzling new cosmic phenomena would threaten the always tenuous confederacy of the Coalition.

The uproar over this latest appearance could tilt the balance of power away from Briin and remove House Ptoriil from primacy. I'm not concerned for myself... I can weather whatever storms may come. But if Lord Ptoriil were to lose his position as Chairman of the Mutual Advisory Committee, it could be devastating to the Coalition. To have a Regent of one of the other twelve ruling families assume Lord Ptoriil's power would be disastrous! And since every House covets the prestige of having its Lord Regent as both Chief Executive of the Coalition and Chairman of the MAC— even if that committee blocks the Regent's actions more often than it advises when to take them— the struggle to gain supremacy could precipitate complete chaos across the Coalition,.

This strange capture of a lone planet is a major problem that Lord Ptoriil did not need now. Not after our earlier captures of entire systems have already strained Ptoriil's tenuous political bloc to the breaking point. Plus, there's that report of yet another new object... the strange moon-sized construct in the Raajjsh Sector, labeled "Eidolon" by the cadets who discovered it.

There are far too many disquieting events disturbing the already treacherous political waters. Well, time to chalk it up as another tumultuous day in the Coalition and put my focus on what to do now! First, I have to leave for Iisleen to meet Lord Ptoriil. I'll have to ask him for the full story about....

#

# CHAPTER 4: Earth

The capricious breeze of Indian summer momentarily tousled Jason Ozier's hair as he mopped his brow and squinted out over the field of waving grain. He hadn't really needed to take his tractor out today; the grain was close to harvest and needed no additional cultivating. He was pleased he had gone out anyway, remembering the satisfying thrum of power beneath him as the machine had done his bidding. He had mowed and cleaned around the field's borders which— even he had to admit— were already sufficiently clean. But, when the occasional breeze was right, he had been able to savor an invigorating whiff of his much loved Farmall's kerosene exhaust.

The cane-bottomed chair creaked its complaint as he tilted it far back to lean against his house. This was part of his well established routine. After being in the field, he loved to sit on his front porch and look out over his work. If done carefully, the rear legs of the chair could be placed just far enough from the wall so he could lean all the way back, and the chair legs would not quite slide out from under him. The chair was old and the cane-bottom sagged, but Samantha— his loving partner— had fashioned a little quilted pillow that fit perfectly and made it comfortably level again.

He smiled as he thought of her baby-blue eyes and the luxuriantly wavy auburn hair that fell to her shoulders. She was three years younger than his forty-two, but looked at least six or seven years younger.  It must have been a moment of weakness on her part when she agreed to marry me, but she's never let me feel she regrets it. Certainly not last night!  Although talking with Kyle at the town meeting and discussing the recent strange sightings had been enjoyable, those events were completely overshadowed by his time afterward with Samantha.

He smiled anew at the fading sky's beauty, and decided to remain outside. He wanted to watch the stars come out. Something in Jason loved the stars. When he gazed at them, he felt as though another awareness stirred within him, causing sensations he could not quite grasp, a nebulous consciousness that remained just out of reach. A small sigh escaped his lips as he shifted his weight, stood up and stretched. He enjoyed the late summer's heat, but some shade would make it more comfortable.

Moving to the protection of a towering chinaberry tree, Jason relaxed and enjoyed tracking the lowering sun through narrowed eyes. His smile broadened as he again recalled the previous evening's tryst in the grove with Samantha. It had been playful, with giggling and laughing and panting and had gone on energetically until they were both sated.

As if drawn by the power of his thoughts, a pair of arms reached from behind him, circled his waist and squeezed. He was so accustomed to their feel that he didn't flinch with surprise. Instead, he deftly caught both of her wrists, lifted them to the level of his neck and turned to face her. Her eyes went wide as his free hand moved down, exploring. He unbuttoned the two top buttons of her calico dress.

"Jason!" she giggled as she squirmed closer to him. "We don't have time! Supper's almost ready."

He made no comment. Adding his free hand to the one holding her wrists, he gently twisted her half around, so she faced away from him with her hands over her head. Then he lowered her hands, stood straight and resumed holding her firmly with one arm. His free hand could not be denied.

She squealed and squirmed and lifted her head to give him a melting smile. "Jas...unh...Jason!" she panted. "I have to go if I'm going to keep from burning supper...and if you don't stop now, I won't be able to!"

He snickered, then grudgingly released her. She turned slowly, gave him a warm full kiss and a sassy smile that hinted at her plans for later, then dashed back into the house.

He sat back down and watched her go.  Where do such women come from?

I've been blessed to be with her these twenty wonderful years....

The sun lowered to touch the horizon as Jason luxuriated in past memories. When it began to fade, he rose reluctantly and started toward the house. Shadows lengthened and colors faded to shades of gray, revealing only the silhouettes of the outbuilding and barns. His eyes, roving across the area, suddenly riveted on the grove that sheltered the old homestead's ruins.

An uneasy prickling sensation ran down his neck and his palms became moist.  The setting sun's rays can't reach into that clearing... but that area is lighted. While that, alone, might not have caused undue alarm, the light began to pulsate. Jason had often seen leaves, lifted by a gust of wind, reflecting more light from their paler undersides.  But there's no wind!

"Sam, I'm going to the clearing," he called toward the house.

Samantha hurried outside, then sauntered forward seductively and murmured huskily, "Oooo...Want some company?"

His apparent disinterest puzzled her: "No...I'll only be a minute."

Walking toward the thicket, Jason's thoughts whirled.  Why didn't I tell her? It might be dangerous...so why am I going at all? Still, his legs carried him forward. It wasn't exactly that he was unafraid. Rather, it was as though fear had been removed from his emotional vocabulary. He watched in a detached way as his feet followed the meandering trail.  One last turn, just ahead, then the clearing.

He rounded the turn and his feet stopped. Just stopped. Indescribable sensations competed for supremacy. His knees locked, but he did not fall. Then, slowly, stiffly, he began moving forward again.  Has my will been taken over? Again he stopped. Unable to consciously recall fear, he was utterly calm.

There before him was an unknown object.  It might be made of metal. But a purplish–brown metal, streaked by scorch marks? It looks dirty...or ancient and well used.  He startled with a jolt, as it suddenly quit pulsating. The oval object simply rested on the ground. No wheels. No struts. Not even a flattened underside to keep that rounded contraption from tilting on uneven ground.

As Jason gaped, he heard a small hissing sound, like the pinpoint puncture of a vacuum seal. A rectangle appeared on the object's side, outlined in pale light. The rectangle receded into the vehicle, then slid to one side. In a few seconds, the door had retracted entirely. The shadow of a man appeared on an interior wall.

Jason's fear reflex may have vanished, but his curiosity remained. Questions leapt through his mind: What on Earth is this? Is this what Kyle saw? Why is it here? Why have I been drawn to it? Who is its occupant? And what does he want?

Those questions were eerily intensified as a clear, resonant voice issued from the shadowy interior. Loudly and clearly it called out, "Jason Ozier!"

# CHAPTER 5: Coalition

Lord Ptoriil Briin, Chief Executive of the Regency Coalition and Chairman of MAC, was not in the best of moods.

He paced the modest open area of his office in the transiting space-cruiser and thought, for the tenth time, how much he hated space travel. It was bad enough that he was ill at ease whenever he was in InterSpace. It was even worse when the unexpected— but politically necessary— side trip had caused him to be delayed by more than a full day.

He mentally dismissed that aggravation and moved on to consider that enigmatic construct discovered in the Raajjsh Sector, a remote area of Coalition territory. One of the cadets on the expedition had referred to it as "Eidolon" and the name had stuck. Indeed, its strange attributes made the name appropriate. Eidolon was a moon-sized enigma: 1200 kilometers in diameter, with an obviously artificial—yet perfectly spherical—surface. The cadet ship had detected a signal on the primary distress band. They followed that signal to Eidolon, then down to an opening at its surface. Beyond the fact that Eidolon unerringly maintained its precise position in space, despite its location at a marginally stable LaGrange point, little else was known.

The crew of the cadet ship was lucky, mused Ptoriil.  And their report that they never left their ship—if true—may be the most significant part of their account!

Briin thought wryly of his own cadet days.  My group was not so fortunate as to find such an exotic object. Still, it remains to be seen just how "fortunate" their find will be. As cadets, we came up the hard way. He smiled as he realized he was indulging in self-pity.  No, I must admit it. The cadets justly earned whatever recognition they've received.

Of further concern was the recent capture of a lone planet, rather than a full star system. Still, he was pleased with the results of the Mutual Advisory Committee meeting he had called after reviewing FSO Layton Eebri's report on the latest capture. Her report had been masterful in its analysis and precision. It clearly outlined the unusual circumstances of the planet and its capture, giving the necessary specifics regarding its current and future safety implications, yet it managed to avoid any further muddying of the political waters with unproductive speculation about its unique nature.

Briin visualized a data pad and a corresponding holographic image appeared on the small folding tabletop immediately in front of his recliner. As he reviewed the surprising details and concentrated his thoughts on directing actions to be taken, print materialized on the image on his holo-pad. Finishing his orders, he mentally assigned it a file name and code number, then dismissed it.

The image of Eebri would not be so easily dismissed. Briin rose from his recliner. He examined his waistline. He was still trim, just starting to develop that slight expansion here and there which signals that the body is no longer as lean and firm as during the full bloom of youth. As well it might not be, he rationalized, considering the demands of my political position. I might be a bit out of condition now, but when first elected, I was the youngest Chief of State ever. I still have a full head of hair...and black hair does look more distinguished with a touch of silver at the temples. So why am I feeling so dissatisfied and out of sorts?

His thoughts returned to Eebri. He realized that he now thought of her on a personal name basis. Of course, he could never entertain the idea of addressing her thus. She was thirteen years his junior. She always conducted herself with the cool and efficient dispatch so well matched to the office she held.

But haven't there recently been, perhaps, some special touches here and there which might have been absent before? Nothing I can really put my finger on but...just touches. A special sheen to that luxuriant crimson hair? Her lips...were they lightly painted? And could it be, possibly, that she might be adding such subtle touches, making special efforts for my benefit? Or is it just my own vain self-flattery that...

"Docking at Iisleen now commencing," an impersonal voice announced.

Briin, feeling unaccustomed embarrassment, began gathering his reports into a carrying case. He knew that these hard documents were an antiquated affectation, but he really preferred holding printed material. He could have brought along an aide for the task of re-ordering the work materials but, then, the aide would have been constantly at his side. He had preferred to make this trip alone. That is, as alone with his thoughts as one could be in a large cruiser with a full crew contingent.

Iisleen, the name of both the planet and the system, was not centrally located in the Coalition's cluster. However, it was the ancestral homeworld of the House Ptoriil.

Great-Great-Grandfather Gozer may have loved living here, but I'm glad I don't have to visit that often. If I had to return for more than occasional ceremonial appearances as Regent of House Ptoriil— and to get close to the action of these captures happening almost in Iisleen's back yard— I'd avoid the planet altogether. Grandfather Gozer may have felt that absolute diplomatic protocol should rule every moment of our lives, but I prefer the more relaxed conventions I learned growing up on Zeleeta. Only eight light years away, yet it seems like another galaxy!

The pressure locks cycled and, as he emerged, a robot moved discreetly to address him. He was always intrigued by the slight variations between mechanical servants of different planetary systems. The nuance of voice inflection or the differences in their movement was noticeable. Of course, variation in planetary conditions, such as gravity and temperature, played a part. But it was more than that. Briin's appreciative eye noted differences in the way their individual parts were designed and assembled.

This robot resembled a flesh and blood member of the House Ptoriil from midsection up. However, below its humanoid front portion, it flowed smoothly down and back to integrate with the rear portion, which was a low sleek carriage for passengers and luggage. Briin chuckled softly, remembering his grandfather's consternation over Briin's childhood insistence that it wasn't a carrier-bot, but a centaur.

His entire appraisal lasted less than ten seconds, so he did not fail to play his role in carrying out the precise formality of the robot's standardized greeting.

"Eminence Ptoriil?"

"Yes, I am he."

"May I be honored by being of service to you?"

"I am made privileged by your willingness to serve," Briin replied ritually.

"Your words honor me, Sir."

Although the experience was hardly new, Briin was bemused by the precise protocol and the specific wording that tradition required for interactions with Iisleen's robots— even those which had served him for over a decade.

With the rigid process complete, the robot began its report. "Your Eminence, the esteemed First Science Officer Laytonn Eebri has arrived. and has been escorted to her accommodations. She is there now and awaits your arrival. If you so desire, it would be my honor to escort you to her present location."

"That is my desire."

As he seated himself, he noted the markers denoting his rank— as both Regent of House Ptoriil and Chief Executive of the Regency Coalition— placed prominently around the carrier as if to warn anyone from coming into close proximity with so noble a personage. He gave orders regarding the remainder of his entourage and concluded with the order that put his transport in motion.

As they whirred away, Briin mentally ticked off the particular and unique features of Iisleen. As a traveling diplomat, it was wise— no matter how familiar the location— to review the varying conditions prevailing within each House, each of its star systems, and the peculiarities on the specific planet being visited. With some planets, one could literally be "on" the planet— that is, outside, breathing the native air and basking in the rays of a friendly sun. On Iisleen, one could do just that. Although his ship had actually docked just beneath the planet's surface, the corridors he now traversed were in a far deeper level. Even so, the unspoiled surface was beautifully maintained and entirely accommodating, and he wondered if...Be honest!...he hoped that he and Eebri could share some of its natural pleasures before their return.

His immersion in personal issues had partially blocked his peripheral awareness of his carrier-bot's rapid progress. When it coasted to a gentle stop, he knew the location and recognized that he had come quite a distance from the space dock.

His carrier-bot spoke its final soliloquy. "Your Eminence, the double glass doors on our left contain your preferred offices and apartments— Suite Seven through Suite Ten. They are reserved for your use for the duration of your visit. The facilities have been abundantly stocked with your preferred provisions and appointments.

Briin hid his mixed amusement and aggravation at the machine's unwavering insistence— with typical Iisleen courtesy— on again stating arrangements that had remained unchanged during each of his last fifty trips here.

"At your request, Officer Laytonn has been assigned to Suite Eleven, adjoining yours. The planet-wide communication link has been re-keyed to your personal voice command. The remaining members of your party will arrive..." Briin suppressed a smile as the machine was forced to hesitate fractionally to consult with Communications, "in 6.37 minutes."

"This carrier would be honored to be called to serve you at any time. When called, appearance at this door can be expected in 4.15 minutes or less. Should Your Eminence choose to visit the surface, Undersecretary Vorgen has requested that he be given notice by com-link a minimum of 5.00 minutes in advance of your departure. The lift serving Your Eminence's suites connects directly with the surface; if this carrier does not have the honor of being called, another carrier will be waiting to serve Your Eminence when the lift arrives at the surface level."

The robot fell silent.

Acutely aware of protocol, Briin had to restrain himself from saying "thank you" to the carrier-bot. He always had attempted to bear the burden of his titles with dignity and simple humility and, being a gentle and educated man, was in full agreement with the need for social graces and conventions. Accordingly, he had felt a "thank you" was always in order— even to a machine— if that machine could speak and carry on a conversation. Reluctantly, he bowed to local conventions and buttoned his lip as Iisleen's strict protocol required, exited the vehicle without comment, and headed for the indicated door.

He entered and strolled through his suites with the ease of long familiarity; they appeared exactly as he had last left them. After announcing his presence at the door to Suite Eleven, Briin entered and found Eebri busy at her holo-projector console, expertly working the controls. His hazel eyes locked with the emerald green of hers...and hers sparked, or was that my imagination...for just an instant before her attention returned to the projected holo-image. She said with perfect decorum, "Was it a pleasant trip, Your Grace?"

He flinched slightly at her use of the title, realizing how completely his emotional expectations of their relationship had changed. Giving her a chagrinned smile, he replied, "Its short duration was its most appealing virtue, Officer Laytonn. Captain Januuz caught me wearing a frown when I boarded, and I fear he upped the ante on our energy usage to reduce our travel time. Our transit here was so fast I may be required to explain the extravagance during the Conclave's next session." He flashed her a winning, sunny smile and winked. "I may need you to supply me with a ready made emergency for this particular occasion and time."

He noted her distracted nod and impetuously blurted out, "And I'd like for you to drop that 'Your Grace' business when we're in private. At least here, let's go on a personal name basis with each other."

Eebri smiled and nodded. "As you wish."

He longed to add for her to drop it in public as well, but the suggestive implications of that made it much too overt. He noticed the fleeting presence of creases not usually found on the smooth creamy-white skin at the bridge of her pert nose.  How would that delicate feature mesh next to my ruddier, more aquiline nose...

She had returned his smile, but said nothing further after inquiring about the trip. It was clear that she was attempting to be bright and cheerful. He saw it was not without effort, and not with complete success. Eebri was acutely aware of the forces and events they confronted. The possible consequences were not only formidable, but— in the final analysis— largely unpredictable as well.

Her slim fingers resumed flying gracefully over the activation sensors of the console. Briin's eyes shifted to the image that had so rapidly taken on considerable detail and complexity. He sobered and said, "Is that it — the lone planet?"

As usual, she was all business: the impersonal Chief Science Officer updating the Chief of State. "Yes, Sir. In particular, please note the disruption taking place in the planet's atmosphere. The air of the orphaned planet is separating into its constituent parts." She gestured toward the holo-model's layers. "The heavier gasses already have descended, having become liquefied or solidified. The lighter ones remain in the gaseous state, with— of course— hydrogen at the very top."

He walked around the detailed image while she remained at the keyboard. He pictured a menu in his mind, selected an item from it, and— in response to his thought— a section of the planet's image quickly filled the entire holo-image. Strange shapes and structures were apparent at its center.

"Are there many of these?"

She consulted a sidebar image and replied, "Yes, quite a number, but they're all machine installations. Deprived of the warmth of its sun by the transition, the planet's temperature has plunged almost to absolute zero. We've detected no advanced life... or anyone who might once have been alive. All surface machines have become incapacitated, but we're now receiving significant indications of higher temperatures and renewed machine activity beneath the surface. Of course, even if they return to full operational condition, they can't communicate with their creators. Chaattel Menkondra— that's what we believe the planet is called— Chaattel is too far from home."

"So confused and lost, I'm sure, that they probably don't recognize what universe they're in," Briin retorted grimly.  If only I dared to initiate contact! Even though his high office did provide for some latitude for independent thought and action, all significant policy decisions were dictated by the MAC.

I wish I could accurately predict what could be expected of Cjorll Kuuiz and Vstoch Vlagen. Those exasperating novices gained their positions on the committee only because of their status in wealthy, powerful families. And—without the premature vacancies caused by the early deaths of both of their fathers— they could not possibly have risen to MAC membership while still so young.  He permitted himself a wry smile.  But, even under those tragic circumstances, a House would normally elevate an older and more mature member to the Regency. Those two are shrewd. Otherwise, they would still be only Conclave representatives. I prefer the more traditional way...but I probably seem like an "old war horse" in their eyes.

Is that what I am in danger of becoming? Briin worried. "Old war horse," indeed! The expression remained only as an artifact of ancient history. The Regency Coalition hadn't experienced overt acts of war for millennia.  Of course, our confederacy's constant political bickering seems to substitute more than well enough with its continual conflict and infighting.

An uninvited image formed before his inner eye: the remote construct that had been given the name "Eidolon." It might not qualify as a war threat, but its presence had resulted in the loss of four lives during recent exploration attempts.

When approached, Eidolon revealed information as disturbing as its mysterious artificial nature. It occupied LaGrange point number one— a marginally stable position. In fact, it was in syzygy: its orbit about the planet remained always on a line connecting the planet's center and that of its most distant natural moon. Yet, as close as Eidolon was to the planet, it displayed absolutely no tidal-force distortion. The bare fact that Eidolon was a precisely perfect sphere argued that it couldn't have been constructed within the gravitational field of the planet. Moving it from wherever it had been created to its present location would have been a simple task for Coalition technology. But the evidence of monolithic construction— molded as a single piece with no construction seams, welds, or joints— heralded a scientific skill far beyond those the Coalition possessed.

Briin's attention returned to Eebri as she was saying, "...and as a result, only one planet was taken, leaving its sun, the other planets and a small artificial moon that had been in orbit about the captured planet. The planet shows signs of having been inhabited fairly recently. Fortunately, when the shift occurred, it contained only machine life."

Briin, in spite of his attention lapse, recognized the political ramifications of her comment. "Eebri, you know the Council fears that intervention could antagonize these people, regardless of our intentions. Can we certify that no loss of life has resulted from our actions?"

A slight frown brushed across her smooth face. Then she shrugged. "Your Gra...I mean...Briin, based on our information, we honestly could attempt such an assertion, but we would be hard pressed to defend it. The opposition members on the committee will be quick to point out that we would be arguing more from lack of information than from comprehensive data. Still, our case is based on direct observation, while theirs would be pure conjecture." She smiled, sharing a confidence while obliquely attacking his political image with the traditional alliteration of the Verbal Duel, "Or course, such limitations are never piquant problems for those possessing a penchant for preserving political power and a propensity for perpetual plotting with passable principles."

Briin grinned slightly, acknowledging her colorful display of alliterative skill. Then he looked back at the holo-display and asked, "Any danger to our people?"

"We've made only a preliminary course plot, but we know it poses no immediate threat. We do know, however, that it will approach near the region of the Bajjelmeer system in about eight years. If it should pose a threat to anything in the region at that time, a direct capture could easily be arranged. Of course, much more accurate data will become available over the next few days."

He smiled wearily. "Fine. Keep me updated."

She noticed with concern that Briin's face was strained and lined. His uniform was wrinkled and becoming sweat stained. It was an uncharacteristic and telling detail that seemed to mimic his look of fatigue. She knew he was not as old as he appeared at this moment. The events of the recent past clearly were taking their toll on him. They might even result in his removal from office, although— to the limits of her knowledge—he had no better choices available for his course of action.

"There's something I need to discuss with you, Briin, but it can wait. Let's give it a rest until..." She had started to say, "daylight" but realized that such a term was less than exact in Iisleen's underground facility. "Well...until we've had some sleep," she finished with a bright smile.

He returned her smile and, in mock anticipation replied, "Good idea...where do we sleep?" His look hinted of lustful hope. It was not lost on Eebri.

In equally pretended horror, she dramatically raised one eyebrow. "Briin, your sleeping quarters are way over there," she said, pointing toward his suites, "and my sleeping quarters are way over here." Then, with a raised eyebrow and a faint smile, she asserted reprovingly, "Of course, Your Grace surely could not have meant to imply otherwise..."

Despite his long hours of training in detaching his emotions from his physical responses, Briin felt his face flush. Embarrassed by his loss of control and attempting a quick recovery, he stammered weakly, "Uh...err...of course not!" Then, realizing by the tilt of her head and the laughing twinkle of her eyes that she was neither offended nor deceived, he added daringly, "At least not until after I've had a shower and some sleep!"

Lord Ptoriil threw his First Science Officer an impeccable salute, then turned and crisply exited back through the door to his rooms, and— removing only his uniform's tunic— stretched across the bed. He was tired, but suspected sleep would elude him. His thoughts were far from the forthcoming meeting or the object with the odd name of "Eidolon."

#

# CHAPTER 6: Earth

When the ship called his name, Jason was astonished. His mouth went dry and his instinct urged retreat, but some inner compulsion would not let him. With difficulty he found his voice. "I'm Ozier."

The voice from the ship responded.

"Jason, please listen carefully. You are in no danger. Please note that this information is being spoken in your own voice. Some time ago, you made this recording in order to add credibility to this account. What you are about to hear concerns your past— your true, hidden past— and it is vital to your homeworld's future.

"Although you can not yet remember it, you are not actually a native of Earth. You willingly chose to come to this primitive planet as a part of a mission critical to your home civilization.

"You now have a duty to perform, for which you volunteered, in your official capacity of Admiral of the Kepren Fleet. Your wife, Samantha, is also a Vice-Admiral of the Fleet. Your friend who owns the adjoining farm, Kyle Trandic, is a Commodore. The three of you have been friends for most of your lives, well prior to your relocation to Earth a few years ago. However, your true past memories have been suppressed by a 'masking' process. All memories of your lives on Earth prior to your relocation here have been artificially implanted. Only your memories of your actual time stationed on this planet are true."

The ship's voiced changed. Deeper, but with less timbre. "Admiral Ozier, from your unremembered life, there is an intelligence known to you as A-D-I-Z. I am he. I am presently on board this ship, directing this encounter. You recorded the message you have just heard more than three Earth years ago. Distant events have recently occurred which make it mandatory that you be contacted now. I can provide the full account of these events if you, the Vice-Admiral and the Commodore will meet with me at this same location at sunset tomorrow. I will provide evidence to make this request more acceptable to them."

"It is unfortunate that this means of establishing contact must be so startling. That could not be avoided. The information you have just been given and the use of your actual title were both pre-programmed keys to help trigger your recognition process. My duty is to convey the urgency of the events that now threaten your true homeworld."

* * *

Jason felt faint.  This is impossible, but somehow, something... Somewhere in the recesses of his mind the veiled shadow of a memory had courted Jason's recognition. He shambled numbly back to his house, questions and doubts assailing him.  This... alien... wants me to bring Samantha and Kyle. Can he be trusted? But why would he bother to explain anything if he intended violence? He knew my name. It knew Samantha's and Kyle's names. The ship talked with my own voice! And why wasn't I afraid? I had a moment of fear when I first felt drawn to the ship, but that quickly passed. If anyone on Earth has created a ship like that one, I've never heard of it!

He reached the house and went straight to the wall phone in the parlor and lifted its earpiece. He cranked the phone quickly and was soon connected with Kyle. Jason refused to explain the call, simply insisting that Kyle had to drive over immediately.

As he turned away from the phone, Samantha immediately grabbed his arm and asked, "What is it, Jason? You're so pale... are you sick?"

"No... not really... I don't think so. It's just... something happened and..." He slowly shook his head. "Please, Sam, let me wait until Kyle gets here. I don't want to have to explain it twice. OK?"

She took his hand and led him to the door. "All right, Jason... but only if you'll sit down on the front porch while we wait."

A few minutes later, Kyle's truck slid to a stop at the Ozier's farmhouse. As Kyle clambered out, the alien craft rose above the grove so slowly they could all clearly see its departure— fulfilling ADIZ's promise— then flashed away into the night sky. The three friends watched in disbelieving awe.

Stunned by both the encounter with the ship and by what he was being asked to do and to believe, Jason finally lowered his eyes from the sky and turned to Samantha and Kyle. "I have something to tell you... something that's happened. By the time I'm through, you may question my sanity. That's OK, though, because I'm already questioning it. But I have to talk about this!"

Samantha turned to Kyle, still squeezing Jason's arm. "Better close the door on your truck, Kyle. Plan on staying for supper, too. Jason says he can explain... but it looks to me like this is going to take a while. "

They gathered around the kitchen table over the mugs of hot coffee Samantha had insisted— correctly— that they all needed. Jason related his experience meeting the strange craft, including confirming that the initial voice he had heard was his own. He confessed that the information the voice from the craft had provided had challenged— even shaken— his essential beliefs. It had told of their "true" past, prior to the last three years they had lived near the quiet town of Hamilton. It had told of earlier attempts to contact them, and revealed it had to abandon those earlier attempts, including one when— apparently in total panic— Kyle had fired at the craft.

Kyle blinked rapidly a few times, then slowly nodded. "It's gotta be the same ship I saw two days ago...or close enough I can't tell any difference. But Jason, I didn't tell anyone I chased it off with my shotgun. My story seemed crazy enough already, and I hoped I'd never see the damned thing again."

"Kyle," Jason replied, "you didn't scare it off. It simply left to make sure you wouldn't be harmed by ricocheting pellets!"

Kyle looked stunned, then embarrassed.

Samantha remained silent—uncharacteristically so. Her attitude was reflective, although Jason had expected her to be militant about this "invasion." In Jason's mind, Sam's response exacerbated the strangeness of the situation.

"You're saying that ship actually spoke to you, and in your own voice?" Kyle asked, interrupting Jason's thoughts. "How could it have done that?"

Jason frowned. "I have no idea, but I...it was me...before my accident last year affected my voice. It reminded me I haven't totally lost that 'Gravel Gertie' tone."

"Uh...right." Kyle looked puzzled. "So if it was your voice, it must've been recorded over a year ago."

Jason responded quietly. "We all remember living in this area for the last three years. I can't imagine how my voice could have been recorded in that time... or for that matter ever! I don't know anyone who has one of those new-fangled recording Victrolas." He paused for several seconds, looking at his feet quietly, deep in thought. "And there's something else. Something that's hard to explain...and even harder to admit. No matter how crazy and unbelievable this experience— and my story— seems, I'm left with an overwhelming sense of 'rightness' and 'recognition' that insists that I can't afford to simply ignore or dismiss it."

Samantha mused aloud, "The ship knew both my name and Kyle's. And it knew we have been friends for over two decades? And where Kyle lives. And the full story of Kyle's escapade with the ship?" She pursed her lips and worried a strand of hair. "None of us were ever in this part of the country until three years ago. None of our friends here actually knew us before that, and...strangely, now that I think about it...we've had absolutely no contact with any of the old friends or acquaintances we remember knowing before we came here. And, guys, that craft looks unlike and travels much faster than anything ever built on this planet. Jason, that ship... it's really not from Earth, is it?"

Jason shifted uneasily, his eyes darting about furtively, like an animal caught in a trap. His thought was, No, Samantha, it's not. But the words he rasped out were, "That's what I'm trying not to believe."

#

# CHAPTER 7: Coalition

Briin had been tossing restlessly for a over an hour, unable to discipline and redirect his thoughts. Since he couldn't sleep and his mutinous thoughts refused to return to his official affairs, he decided that a shower definitely was in order.

The exceedingly cold shower (hot was available, but he was convinced that his need demanded something just short of icicles) refreshed him. He finally managed to re-focus his thoughts in a different direction— toward a review of the facts pertinent to the upcoming MAC meeting about Eidolon.

Four good men had been lost during the mission investigating the cadets' report. A four man exploratory team from an orbiting command ship had landed on Eidolon's surface, near the beacon the cadets had originally tracked. Two of the four men then left the lander, found the tracking beacon, and approached the nearby opening. Prior to entering it, they reported finding one set of footprints leading out of the interior. Curiously, they were imprinted in the dust on a vertical wall of the shaft connected to the opening. Entering, they found that gravity— or what passed for gravity in that enigmatic orb— was shifted in the direction of the surface containing the footprints. Shortly thereafter, communications with the exploring party were interrupted. This had been anticipated; all previous signals intended to penetrate Eidolon had been reflected back from its surface.

When the first party's projected life-support time was down to thirty minutes, the other two men in the lander— fearing for their companions' safety— refused to wait any longer. Their last communication with the orbiting command ship reported that they were entering the object to attempt a rescue, carrying four extra life-support packs.

When the rescue party's return was overdue, another team was dispatched from the orbiting ship. This scouting party approached the opening and looked into it. They reported seeing a lighted shaft or corridor, perpendicular to the surface, whose depths receded to the vanishing point. On one wall of the opening, micrometer sized dust had collected. The dust on its vertical surface contained footprints.

They waited by the opening for thirty hours— a full Coalition Day. That was half again more than the combined life-support systems would have supported one man. None of the original four men ever returned.

Before retreating back to the lander, one of the men in the scout party retrieved a small metallic object found just inside the opening. Its track in the dust indicated it had been disturbed, possibly by a member of the exploratory team.

Briin turned the account over again in his mind, to no avail. Only one thing was clear. Four men lost, and for no apparent reason.

He shook his head sadly and climbed beneath the cool bed covers. Gradually his restless consciousness surrendered to sleep.

#

# CHAPTER 8: Alliance

A vagrant breeze cooled Ganlon Station, swirling the collected dust from corners and crannies which had escaped the attentions of the maintenance robots. Kepren was the political headquarters of the Alliance and Ganlon was Kepren's principal city. Once great crowds had thronged its gathering places. Here, too, had labored many of the cluster's great minds, energetically populating governmental and scientific installations both above and below ground.

Now no living beings dwelt there; only their machines remained behind. Those faithful servants had performed to the limits of knowledge and skill that centuries of creative talent had given them. Still, the unnatural calm spoke less of tranquil peace within the city than of the absence of vibrant life.

Far beneath Ganlon's now deserted streets— and reachable only by an intricate series of rapid-transit passages and high-speed lifts— lay the Mathlen Science Center, the Cluster's premiere science installation. The deliberately labyrinthine route had been constructed to cloak the Center's location.

Once the pulsing heart of Alliance scientific research and development, the Mathlen Science Lab's Command Center offered only a silent echo of the once feverish activity of its industrious workers. Mute evidence of their existence stretched away into the empty distance. Vacant seats, row upon row. Endless consoles, screens blank. Scribers in holders, untouched in years. All spotlessly maintained by tireless robots.

It was here that the first report of Chad's disappearance had been received. And it was from this place that the signal had been sent, activating the crystal alarm and sending ADIZ on his crucial mission.

VSDI 473 energized a console connection and spoke. "Come in, Wasp."

For this emergency, tachyonic communications were justified and the Wasp responded immediately. "This is the Wasp. Commander Vicklor Agriel speaking."

"Commander Agriel, emergency operational procedures require a status update at this time. Two shuttles have been dispatched and should rendezvous with you in 67.73 hours. If you are able to regain spin control and exit the Wasp, the shuttles will provide rescue and transport to Kepren. Has your situation altered significantly?"

"No," Vick replied, mentally adding, I wish it had.  "All thirty-five of us are in good health, although the strain is beginning to show in small ways. We haven't managed to deactivate the emergency lock-down, so we're still separated into small groups that can't reach each other. And until we get this infernal spin under control, we can't get outside to use EVA to reach each other." He sighed. "With our course correction motors being damaged, being unable to access them for repair, and being locked out of engineering...well, we haven't made much progress."

VSDI's calm computerized voice responded. "Acknowledged. Commander, it is my duty to inform you of the following points. Efforts are under way to recover the Fleet Admiral, although we have no word on the success of that mission. Further, regaining control of Wasp's course correction systems is essential. In order to achieve orbital insertion about Kepren, Wasp's velocity must now be reduced by 18.23 percent, and angle of approach must be altered by minus 1.624 degrees. If these modifications are not currently possible, incremental hourly adjustments of plus 0.438 percent and minus 0.039 degrees must be made. Orbital insertion will fail unless the Wasp's combined maximum delta-v course correction capabilities are activated within 162.40 hours. Should no alteration in course and velocity occur, terminal gravitational attraction will occur between 270.9 and 271.4 hours from now. Exact termination time and location are still indeterminate, but precise data will be available by the next required status update."

"Acknowledged,' replied Vick automatically.  Terminal gravitational attraction! Exact termination point! Nothing but sanitized scientific terms for the catastrophic collision of two astronomical bodies. Morbidly but irresistibly, he continued, running the data in his mind.  The Wasp is a hollowed asteroid, five miles in diameter, massing over four hundred-eighty billion tons. Kepren is roughly 9000 miles in diameter. How fast would the Wasp impact if a collision can't be avoided?  Vick was not expert in celestial mechanics but realized that collision would occur at many miles per second. The impact would easily obliterate any large city, and might even devastate the planet! Either way, the Wasp...

Vick shook himself and disciplined his thoughts.  This speculation is pointless! Another question was, however, critical. "VSDI?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"If planetary collision becomes unavoidable, can I order the Wasp destroyed?"

"Sir, you can give the order. However all missile launches would be aborted by Defensive-AIDDs."

Vick thought furiously.  Despite how advanced their artificial intelligence is, they're still bound by the basic laws of robotics: Any action to intentionally take the life of the living is prohibited, as is any willing inaction that allows life to be taken. They can't take action to destroy the Wasp while we're on it, yet we may die anyway if they don't stop it. That could cause the AIDDs to lock up in a paradox loop. Is there any way to persuade these robots to push the button if all else fails? Despite serious doubts, Vick had to try.

"VSDI?"

"Yes, Commander Agriel?"

"On my direct order, will you destroy the Wasp if the crew can't be removed?"

There was a distinct pause before VSDI responded. "No, Sir."

The answer was terse.  If VSDI weren't a machine I'd think he's tense. Vick knew he must try again.  There has to be an answer!

"VSDI, can you rig a switch for me to launch the missiles to destroy the Wasp?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Good! Get on it!"

"Certainly, Sir. However, I must inform you that if you activate that switch, I will have no choice but to initiate the destruct systems on the missiles long before they endanger anyone aboard the Wasp."

"Shazz!" Vick canceled the order, slapped the connection off-line, and held his head in his six-fingered hands while savoring the sudden silence.

#

# CHAPTER 9: EARTH

It had been a long and late evening of discussion, but the smell of frying bacon and eggs roused Jason well before the harsh jangle of his alarm could sound. The clatter in the kitchen told him Kyle and Samantha were already up, making breakfast. Kyle was handy at times like this. Used to living alone, as he put it, he'd had to learn to cook or starve.

Jason lay in bed for a moment, pensive. The events of the previous evening seemed muddled and utterly fantastic to him, as though part of a dream. He had also been thrown off balance by Samantha's surprisingly calm acceptance of the ship's startling claims. Kyle was less sanguine, but they had tentatively agreed to meet the ship— subject to a final decision in the morning.

Now dawn had broken; it was time to look at the situation in its cold light to see if anything had changed. Jason slipped into his coveralls and boots and entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

Kyle had deserted his kitchen duties long enough to clear the bed clothes from the sofa. Now he returned, dropped heavily into the chair across from Jason, and asked, "Well, what's the verdict? Do we call out the National Guard, or do we keep our appointment with the ship?"

No one answered. Samantha delivered eggs and bacon to each plate, and both men immediately dug in. She sat down, took a few bites, then asked, "So... have we developed cold feet?"

Jason and Kyle exchanged glances. Kyle shook his head and said, "I guess not. But I'll tell you this. If it wasn't for the bits of truth in that ship's account, we wouldn't be askin'. We'd be runnin' and yellin' for the troops. We're all off balance, mostly 'cause the damn thing knows so much. But how much does it really know? If it's anywhere near as advanced as it claims, couldn't it just have spied on us from space?

Samantha smiled. "So, Kyle, you do think the ship came from space?"

He frowned. "Dunno...Wish I did. All I really know is what it wants us to think."

Samantha nodded and looked to Jason. "Do you believe it's a space ship?"

"Don't you?"

She paused only a fraction of a second. "You know, I believe I do."

"And that we're part of some desperate space plan straight out of one of Kyle's space travel novels? Do we come from out there..." Jason waved one arm expansively upward, "somewhere... beyond the stars?"

Samantha replied calmly. "There are other questions we need answered first. Let's hold that question until after we visit the ship, shall we?"

Kyle still looked troubled. "Ain't that kind'a like lettin' the wildcat out o' the bag, jus' ta see if it's calmed down? It's tough gettin' him back in if ya find out it was a mistake."

Samantha looked first at Kyle, then to her husband. "Do you think it's a mistake?"

Jason looked uncomfortable and said, "Well...no.... Not really. But that's no excuse for me to risk your welfare!" He looked quickly from Samantha to Kyle. "Or yours, either.  I should have asked more questions, gotten better answers. Maybe I should go alone."

Kyle was about to reply when Samantha spoke up. "Jason, my love, we are all adults here. If we had children I wouldn't even consider it. But we don't. Besides, it strikes me that the ship already could have taken us against our will if it planned to exert its power. It knew Kyle was nearby, and certainly knew my whereabouts. Yet, it made no attempt to harm or kidnap any of us. And remember, it flew away from Kyle rather than even taking a chance he might get hurt.

She paused a moment for them to consider, then added, "And something else, guys... What exactly did you see when the ship took off?"

Kyle and Jason exchanged a long look. Finally, Kyle said, "Well, Samantha, we all saw it. It was a glowing, rounded object that just shot away."

"Jason?"

"That's about what I saw."

"OK, Jace — but what about its speed?" Samantha prompted.

"It moved unbelievably fast."

"Yes," she agreed, "much faster than anything that we've ever heard of. Plus, there's something both of you must have missed. I noticed a faint spear-shaped light pointing in the direction of the ship's flight, and a similar light-spear trailing it. I don't know what it is or how it works, but does any Earth technology create that?"

Jason shook his head. Samantha, as usual, had been more observant and had plumbed the greater depths of the issue. He and Kyle had egg on their face.  Probably, literally. He rubbed his face and smiled tightly. "The central question remains. Do we meet with the ship?"

"Of course!" Samantha confidently exclaimed.

Kyle gaped at her, then examined his nails. "Well, I ain't about to let you two go runnin' off on some fool adventure without me there to protect you. Still, I'd be a long sight happier if you'd let me tote along my shotgun."

Samantha shook her head. "No, Kyle. But in case we do agree to make the journey the ship described, we'd better make other preparations. What about your dogs?"

"After this wonderful breakfast...which is mostly Samantha's doing," he gave her a grateful smile, "I'd better go take care of that very item. I can leave my dogs with George Sanders. He'll be glad to take care of them."

"Good," Jason answered. "But come back early. And bring that Remington typewriter you're so fond of."

"What for, Jace?"

"I think that we should leave a written account. Kind of a summary of what has happened...just in case our trip turns out not to be voluntary."

Kyle glared back. "You think we might be kidnapped?"

"No, not really," shrugged Jason. "But in case it works out that way, shouldn't we leave a warning for the neighbors to find?"

Kyle dryly observed that their written summaries would be like "Last Wills and Testaments made the day before you knew they would be needed."

Jason and Samantha reluctantly agreed.

#

# CHAPTER 10: Alliance

There was a tentative knock on the door of Vick Agriel's quarters.

"Come in."

Yeoman Sindra Kaylin entered carrying a tray of food. Vick realized he had eaten little since the start of this crisis. She sat the tray down in front of him.

"What's our situation?"

"Not good." He looked up at her. More than ever, he appreciated how pleasant she was to look at. Her pale violet eyes and short lavender hair accentuated her indigo skin, high cheekbones and long earlobes. Her svelte curves moved in sympathy with her walk. She was several inches shorter than the average Khyltian, which reminded him that "treasures often come in tiny wrappings."

With a start, Vick became aware of her questioning smile and realized he had been lost in appreciating her dusky beauty. Breaking the awkward silence, he said, "Mathlen Center is still working on our exact flight path, but the Wasp will collide with Kepren unless we can regain control of our position rockets soon— well, in just under three days. Failing that, it appears that the AIDDs on Kepren can neither destroy this vessel nor permit it to be destroyed."

Sindra paled, but immediately focused on possible solutions. "What are our prospects of regaining the bridge?"

Vick absently scratched at the burgundy stubble on his dark chin. "We're trying to get the doors open. Alten is toying with the idea of going outside and re-entering through another hatch to access the bridge. Because of the spin, the odds of his success are only about forty-sixty...with Shallen getting the short end of the stick."

"Will you order it?" Sindra asked softly.

He knew that Alten was very special to Sindra. Still, the question irritated him.

"No!" Then, more quietly, "Sorry...well, only as a last resort. What makes it so hard is that the decision will have to be made in only a few days. After that, collision becomes unavoidable...unless the Wasp is blown up. If we reach that point, we will have to find a way to destroy the Wasp before it hits Kepren." He looked stricken by his own words.

"Basic automatic override programs keep us from reaching the bridge! But if we cut all power and open the doors manually, we'll have to start from scratch and our operational systems can't be brought back on line in time!" He calmed himself and spoke with quiet authority. "At some point, Yeoman, I may have to do my best to destroy us all."

"I understand, Sir. I know you'll do everything possible and whatever is necessary." Sindra sighed as she turned to leave, "Now, Vick, eat. It's not your fault we're in this situation, and you can't think clearly on an empty stomach."

"Or on a full one either, it seems," he said sourly. He managed a grim smile, "We'll find a way... Uh, thanks for the grub, Sindra."

As he picked at the food, he noticed his hands shaking.  I must be more tired than I thought. Of course— who wouldn't be? But trembling hands? Shazz! In order to save Kepren, I may have to do my best to get us all killed. If I fail, it will only delay our deaths for a short time, but the Wasp still will wreak havoc on Kepren. And if Mathlen is destroyed...

How did we get caught in this gecking mess — and how do we get out of it?

# CHAPTER 11: Earth

The sun faded below the horizon. Three figures detached themselves from the frame farmhouse and took the path through the trees. Jason had trod this same path so frequently that the trail was worn smooth.

But this trip would be very different!

As they moved deeper into the grove, their view of the house was blocked by the darkly fading trees and bushes that lined the path. At the final turn they stopped abruptly, frozen by the sight before them. Resting in the center of the clearing was the strange craft, doorway already open, revealing a portion of the ship's interior. Samantha's rapid intake of breath showed her surprise.

"There it is," Jason whispered. "What now?"

Before they could answer, a voice projected from the ship's interior. "Welcome, Admiral Ozier, Vice-Admiral Ozier, Commodore Trandic." Kyle recoiled, then slid his fingers through his wavy black hair. The voice coming from the craft was his own. "The messages you will now hear were recorded by each member of your team prior to the time your identities were cloaked, while still on your distant homeworld, before you were relocated to this planet. Please be assured that you are in no danger. Your protection is a primary concern of this mission. We understand your apprehension and— without the current situation's urgency— a less dramatic meeting would have been arranged."

The ship continued, now in Samantha's calming voice. "Your true home now faces a serious danger; otherwise you would not have been disturbed at this time. It was in preparation for this eventuality that you came to this distant planet. Our purpose is to gain your trust and cooperation, enlist your support, and return you safely and quickly to the heart of your home system. Your true memories will be restored there, so you may help contend with this emergency.

"Aboard this vessel is a machine-intelligence known to each of you in the past. By tradition, he is referred to in the masculine gender. His name is ADIZ. At the conclusion of this recording, he will speak with you and attempt to answer any questions. Please listen closely to his words. He will explain why the need for your return is so urgent. When— as I sincerely hope— you reach consensus to board the ship and begin the journey, please convey the decision to ADIZ. Further questions may be addressed to ADIZ both before departure and while the ship is en route to its destination."

The ship fell silent.

"Oh my!" Samantha whispered. "It was one thing to hear your account last night, Jason. But to hear Kyle's voice from the ship call me 'Vice-Admiral'..." She absently worried the errant auburn lock at her forehead. "Am I really..."

A firm baritone voice, different from the others, responded from the ship. "Samantha Ozier, I am ADIZ. You do indeed hold the rank of Vice-Admiral of the Kepren Cluster Alliance Fleet."

Jason turned to Kyle and Samantha, nodded, then spoke to the ship. "First, tell us about this emergency— and our specific connection to it." Kyle and Samantha noticed that Jason's voice had taken on a definite ring of authority.

"Certainly, Admiral. Approximately three Earth years ago you came here from a star cluster so distant that few of its stars are visible from this planet. The civilization there— your true home— occupies dozens of planetary systems within this cluster.

"War was abolished long ago. However, approximately thirteen Earth years ago, entire stars— along with their orbiting planets— started vanishing without a trace. As the number of disappearances increased, a disturbing fact became apparent: the disappearances were selective, with only occupied systems being affected. You were a part of a highly placed team who conducted exhaustive investigations of these disastrous events. It was a great shock for everyone to learn that nothing of the affected planetary systems could be found. They had simply vanished.

"It was feared a hostile intelligence might be systematically working to eradicate your civilization. Since no means of detection or warning could be developed, a daring plan was undertaken. Led by you, Admiral Ozier, the plan was developed, authorized and eventually implemented. On ninety-seven unoccupied planets in remote parts of the galaxy, huge hibernation facilities were constructed and equipped to house the citizens of the Alliance. It was hoped that the combination of remote locations and deep hibernation would hide or disguise whatever natural signals people emitted to attract the invader.

"Also, maintenance and control of virtually the entire Alliance Cluster was turned over to artificial intelligences— similar to myself— that would continue the search for the cause of the disappearances. The core programming of every Alliance machine intelligence prohibits it from destroying living beings. It was decided that it would be unwise to alter that essential programming. As a result, if the need arose to confront and eliminate any living intruder, a living person would be have to be recalled.

"Therefore, the plan which now demands your involvement was devised. Although hibernation sleep is a safe and proven procedure, reviving the sleepers requires a slow awakening process plus a short period of rehabilitation exercises for full return to optimal physical condition. Thus the plan required that a number of key people remain awake. However, it was feared that their waking presence, even on remote and technologically primitive planets such as this Earth, still might attract the intruder.

"The applications of medical and psychological science were stretched to the limits of our knowledge in developing the cloaking method you have undergone. It results in mental alteration far stronger than hypnotic suggestion. The effect of this change is simply referred to as a 'mask.' This mask does not alter personality, but does significantly modify brainwave activity and removes all memory of events prior to masking. We hoped it would also hide you from the intruder."

Jason felt an icy premonition. The Earth suddenly seemed only a tiny grain of sand on a vast beach.

"The masks can be removed painlessly, but the necessary equipment could not be transported in this ship. Only on your home planet of Kepren can the process be performed with maximum safety. However, preparatory work can be done aboard this vessel using the Kiny-Stomos library, with which realistic images— complete with audio— can be created. Then, on Kepren, it will require a time period equal to only about six of this planet's hours to complete the process.

"One additional point: Admiral, Vice-Admiral...during this process you will recover the awareness of your son and daughter, Gavin and Marlinyn, who are— at least, as of five days ago— in perfect health."

Both Samantha and Jason gasped at this revelation. ADIZ observed and waited for the worst of their reactions to pass. He then added, "Commodore, you may rest easy about your twin sister, Kyrinn. She is also well."

Kyle's eyes misted over.

After a few moments, ADIZ continued. "I regret the abrupt references to your families, but I have been given specific directives for the performance of my responsibility of persuading you to accompany me. There is little time to spare, and the situation forces the use of key names and phrases that will have maximum impact in triggering your recognition and acceptance of the truth of my words. Please be assured that all of your families, from several worlds, are in hibernation in places of optimum security."

Jason interrupted. "You've described what has occurred in the past and who we supposedly are. But what is the new emergency? What has happened to cause such urgency now?"

ADIZ hesitated fractionally before responding. "It was hoped the disappearances would stop once the populace was removed. For a while, that seemed to be the case. But the disappearances have resumed. Now— a matter of days ago— a lone planet vanished, although in no prior incident has a planet disappeared without its primary— its sun. This new development has created a situation which requires actions not covered by the contingency plans, and machines are not authorized to initiate the needed action. For that we need the immediate return of the Alliance's senior officer. You, Admiral Ozier!"

Jason's senses reeled as he tried to fathom the actual possibility of this sudden responsibility. A disorienting dizziness swept over him, but passed quickly. He felt— somehow sensed and accepted in the core of his being— that it was his decision. Samantha's eyes were alert and Kyle's gaze was one of steely expectation. Each stood somehow more erect. Jason was further shocked by the realization that his wife and his friend were clearly deferring to him.

"We just found out about all this last night," Kyle grated. "Why are you in such an all-fired hurry?"

"I regret the exigency, Commodore Trandic, as well as the complex answer your question requires," ADIZ replied. "As we speak, monumental energies are being expended to maintain the means for our return to your home world. We are rapidly approaching the limits of maintaining those energies with any acceptable degree of safety."

"Time has passed quickly since this crisis began. We cannot travel instantaneously, and our starships do not physically exceed the speed of light. However, Supra-Luminal Travel— or SLT— has been developed. By traveling at one-third light-speed inside dimensional 'shortcuts' through InterSpace, it results in faster than light travel between destinations, without significant time-dilation effects.

"The information and materials required for my mission were available at the remote center where I was stationed, so I was able to travel directly here.  However, significant time has elapsed since the onset of the crisis. Earth is quite remote from Sanctuary-1; traveling here from there consumed a full day. When I arrived, the Admiral was in the company of some of the planet's natives and, thus, was unapproachable. I then attempted to make my alternate contact with the Commodore, with the resulting attack on my ship. My mission directives prevented me from chancing a second direct encounter on the same evening."

Kyle looked chagrinned and shrugged apologetically.

ADIZ continued. "The following night I again attempted contact, but discovered that the Admiral and the Vice-Admiral were alone in a clearing near their house...occupied in activities of such an intensely personal nature that my prior programming clearly prohibited my interrupting them."

It was Jason's turn to look embarrassed, and Samantha blushed.

"Thus, two more full revolutions of this planet have occurred than had been planned. Time has now become critical."

"Our travel time depends on energy usage, which we refer to as 'Phase Levels.' The advanced transportation facilities on Kepren— coupled with its proximity to its high energy sun, Syzygy— offers the transport system's highest energy phase, and thus the Alliance's fastest possible interstellar transits. My moderate-Phase flight from Sanctuary-1 consumed one day; at the Phase-16 level available from Kepren's Star Terminal-1, it would have taken less than an hour. The difference in energy levels is prodigious. You might think of it as the power of a small thunderstorm versus that of an ocean-wide hurricane. Such massive energy expenditures are justified only in extreme emergencies.

"The level star tunnel that had awaited us is maintained by the high-energy support from Kepren's equipment and sun. However, after a period of time, any tunnel begins to lose integrity. As it does so, the maximum phase level it can maintain decreases. This has already occurred; Phase-16 will no longer be possible, and our return trip will now be measured in days. Additionally, the chances for the ship's safe return gradually diminish as the phase levels deteriorate. If we delay of only a few more hours, the risk will become too great to attempt departure. Finally, there is one overriding reason for urgency: Should any further catastrophe occur in the Kepren system, we could be stranded here permanently."

From the doorway, a faint luminosity appeared and intensified, becoming an angled shaft of shimmering light connecting the ship's doorway with a large, newly illuminated square of the ground.

"I must urge your group to make a decision quickly. Once aboard, Admiral, you will be in command. The ship will leave or stay as you order. To board, you need only advance until you are in the shaft of light and it will carry you into the ship. I implore you to decide without further delay."

Jason looked again at his companions.

Kyle seemed undecided. "It— or he, whatever— certainly is careful and polite. And he makes a strong case for urgency. But, that aside, I'd like to know who our traveling companions will be."

ADIZ's voice returned. "Besides myself, there will be no others. Currently, three machine intelligences similar to myself are on board. They have been fashioned in each of your images. During your temporary residence on this planet you have been under constant scrutiny. If you agree to return, these replicas will take your place. While artificial, they are most convincing copies. For example, the replica of Commodore Trandic will look and even smell familiar to his dogs; they will accept him as genuine."

"Could we observe the golems?" Kyle asked. "If they are really convincing, it might help us make our decision."

ADIZ asked, "What are 'golems'?"

"Consider it another term for the machine intelligences on board," Samantha answered.

"Understood," replied ADIZ. "The proper term for them is Artificial Intelligence Data Devices. However, they are commonly referred to by the acronym, AIDDs."

Kyle snapped impatiently, "Call them whatever you want! The question is, can we see them?"

"Your request will be honored, Commodore. Please stand away from the opening. When the AIDDs emerge you are free to approach and examine them closely. However, do not under any circumstances attempt to converse with them. Were you to do so, it could result in a destructive paradox-feedback loop. Until I retrieved them and brought them down, they were in a black-body, non-radiating vehicle in a stationary orbit directly over this spot, effectively experiencing your lives in real time. As a result, they have absorbed the local customs and learned the many terms and idioms I do not know. Once they leave the ship, however, they will begin independent existence. Each has internal power, which will supply them for many years. It is possible that one or more of you will wish or need to return and resume your Earthly identities, so they will dispose of the alarming documents you left behind."

"It seems to have thought of everything," Kyle muttered. "I wonder if..." He broke off as shadows moved within the ship.

A figure appeared in the doorway, a perfect likeness of Jason. It stepped out into open air; instead of falling, it floated gently down the diagonal light stream and settled gently on its feet. In quick succession, two other figures followed. The figure of Kyle ran its fingers through its hair, a characteristic gesture of Kyle's. The third figure, an exact likeness of Samantha, worried a wisp of unruly auburn hair which perfectly matched the one on Jason's wife's forehead. Although alert, the figures seemed not to recognize the presence their counterparts. As if at a silent signal, they moved onto the path that led back to the house. Soon they were lost from view.

ADIZ, checking the rapidly changing symbols on an instrument panel, keyed his internal microphone and spoke, "Admiral, departure in the next few minutes is crucial."

Jason looked to his companions for confirmation. Samantha and Kyle were wide-eyed, but both answered his look with tight affirmative nods.

Jason moved slowly toward the light-shaft, muttering to himself, "Going on board to check it out doesn't mean we'll leave. At least we'll know if that 'stair-light' works!"

Samantha and Kyle made no comment, but warily followed his lead. When they reached the beam and were fully bathed in it, they were lifted effortlessly into the ship.

The interior's soft lighting revealed a comfortable enclosure with lushly cushioned chairs. There were no windows of any kind. They all noticed that the door through which they had entered had not closed; the ship gave no sign that it was preparing to leave. While no equipment or controls were apparent, the ship whispered a barely perceptible hum that testified it was active.

Jason found his voice. "ADIZ?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"We would like to see you before we decide to continue."

"At once, Admiral."

From a dividing wall in the chamber, a panel hissed faintly and moved aside. A shadow moved on the far wall. Then ADIZ stepped into view. Both men tensed and Samantha almost suppressed her gasp of astonishment.

Standing just over six feet tall, ADIZ entered with a smooth, assured step that implied careful design and painstaking construction. His trim body was a flowing mosaic of silver and burnished bronze with panels here and there, apparently concealing interior compartments. Located in the chest area was a large recess covered with a translucent material. Colored light patterns played beneath it, doubtlessly conveying information to any trained observer. The head was pleasingly humanoid, though it would never be perceived as human: a warm bronze face with a distinct— though austere— mouth, a slight triangular prominence and small oval protrusions hinting at a nose and ears, and what appeared to be a close-fitting skullcap of darker bronze where hair might otherwise have been. His softly radiant eyes moved from Jason to Samantha to Kyle.

While still several paces away, he gracefully halted his progress.

Kyle caught his breath. "Up until this, I still thought..." He shuddered slightly. "Well, hoax.  But this...this is no hoax!"

Samantha, too, marveled at this animated metal sculpture standing politely before them.  What a remarkable blend of art and science! How mighty the creators of it must be! Are they really my people? Her gaze moved back to the external door. ADIZ's word remained good; the doorway remained open.

Jason looked from ADIZ to Samantha to Kyle, and back to ADIZ. All waited attentively for Jason's next move.  Am I really an Admiral after all? Admiral of what? Of whom? Maybe it's time to find out. Keeping Samantha and Kyle in the corner of his eye, he said, "ADIZ, would you close the door?"

"Are you requesting that I secure the hatch, Sir"

"Yes, ADIZ." A smile flitted across Jason's face. "Secure the hatch."

Reversing its earlier process, the energy shield irised closed, the door panel moved to fill the doorway, then clicked shut. Their ears popped slightly as cabin pressure was adjusted. The faint hum now rose in pitch and volume as the ship prepared for departure.

ADIZ addressed Jason, "Sir, I must return to my compartment for the next stage of the flight. It is my duty to monitor the ship's launch into space and, an hour into the flight, the entry into the star tunnel that will return us to Kepren. When all is ready, I shall alert you. Only at your order will the ship depart." He turned toward his compartment, paused, turned back and said simply, "Sir, the command to depart is 'Launch'." He turned crisply on his heel and walked back through the opening. It whispered closed behind him.

The group sat stiffly in their cushioned chairs. Samantha realized, with a start, that she had been clenching her hands together, painfully so. She relaxed her grip. The encounter with ADIZ had contained no hint of menace, and she was rapidly adjusting to this strange situation. The finely sculptured design of the cabin had not escaped her eye. Even without understanding the ship's functions, its elegant simplicity told her a great deal. What civilization had created this ship, this robot, and all the wonders she now beheld? It was far, far more sophisticated and advanced than anything they had known.

Had known? With a start, Samantha recognized she was already thinking of their home on Earth in the past tense. "ADIZ, I have a question before we decide to go."

Jason and Kyle started at Samantha's sudden declaration. ADIZ's voice responded, "Yes, Vice-Admiral?"

"When we saw this ship take off last night, I noticed faint light projections in front of and behind the ship. Also, the ship's speed was much greater than any we've ever seen. Can you explain what we saw and how such speed is possible?"

"Certainly, Vice-Admiral. However, you actually have seen such speeds before, and when your masks are removed you will remember it clearly. The fore and aft 'light projections' were polarized, ionized fields which— for simplicity at this time, I must be inexact— magnetically separate the particles of the atmosphere to create a vacuum in which the ship travels without atmospheric resistance. This field smoothly parts the atmosphere prior to the ship's passage, then allows the particles to come back together so gently that virtually no disturbance occurs. As a result, no atmospheric friction slows the ship's progress and no dynamic sound wave effects are created. Within this field, the ship's maximum speed is considerably greater than the 7.9 miles per second you observed. The ship's gravity-based propulsion is quite complex and so alien to Earth science that a detailed description at this time would be fruitless. With the masks removed, you will remember far more than I could possibly tell you in the short time remaining before we must launch."

Samantha looked at Jason. Jason looked at Kyle. Kyle looked at Samantha. None of the three spoke. They just shook their heads in bewilderment.

"The ship is ready. If you wish to view our departure, please give the command, 'View screen, astern'." An expectant silence ensued.

Samantha broke the tension. "Jason, Kyle...do you think...is it true? Have we really been only visitors to Earth? Could our real home be a civilization we would have considered alien only yesterday? Are we leaving our true home, or are we about to return to it? Where do we really belong?"

Jason's pursed lips and Kyle's downcast eyes were her only answer. Long seconds passed as each examined his feelings.

Again, it was Samantha who broke the silence. "I can't explain it, but when ADIZ mentioned the children... It's not that I remember clearly. It's more like a fleeting memory that I can't quite grasp." She shivered. "Still, my heart tells me that it's time to leave Earth and go home. What do you men think?"

"Samantha, I am genuinely afraid you are right..." Kyle responded, "but that may mean that you shouldn't refer to Jason and me as 'men'."

Her giggle broke the tension. "Kyle, that's absurd! I know you well, but I know my husband. I assure you he's all man, and nothing can convince me differently. You're men all right, just not Earthmen!"

Jason's eyes locked with his companions'. There was the smallest pause, then they nodded slightly. He felt his heart pounding.  This is the point of no return.

Even as that thought coursed through his mind, he heard his own voice say, "ADIZ...launch!"

#

# CHAPTER 12: Alliance

Vick had eaten most of his meal; the rest had long ago gone cold and lay congealed on the tray, pushed to the side of his desk. He shook his head angrily.  I've run through everything twice, but I'm getting nowhere! He keyed his mike. "Juballe, Swight, and Walteer...to me, stat! Advise travel time."  Time! Just what we have had so little of!

Juballe and Swight indicated they could come immediately. However, Walteer was finishing a critical calculation and needed ten minutes.

Vick frowned, but his voice revealed only urgency. "OK, but step on it."

Though solutions weren't coming quickly enough, the basic issues facing them were simple, clear, and well known to everyone trapped aboard the Wasp. Chadalmencondra, usually referred to as "Chad," was the settled planet next nearest to the sun that warmed Kepren. Its entire populace had been evacuated, according to plan, years before it disappeared.

An artificial moon had been placed into orbit around Chad almost a century before, to provide the key relay capabilities for communications strictly within the Kepren solar system. The satellite was a hollowed-out spherical asteroid five miles in diameter and— because it buzzed the planet in a very close orbit, making a rapid transit every 64 minutes— it had earned the name "Wasp." During several decades preceding Chad's disappearance, communications technology had been significantly enhanced and installation of state of the art equipment —both on the inside and on the outer surface of the Wasp— had ultimately grown to become massive and complex. With its central location and cutting-edge capabilities, the Wasp had become known as the heart of communications for not only Kepren's solar system, but for the entire Alliance.

As a result, it had been determined that the Wasp should be the lone exception to the rule of "no living persons remaining in the Cluster." During the final planning of the emergency hibernation, it also was decided that, because of both the vital nature of and the subtle intricacies of the Wasp's communications installation, an exception must be made: the Wasp would be maintained by a contingent of living conservators.

Khyltian officials had immediately argued that only natives of Khylt— renowned for their nobility and bravery— should be selected as the small crew of the Wasp for the duration. Proud of their special status, they raised several key points. Although Khyltians would participate in the hibernation, they pointed out that no planetary system in which any Khyltians lived had ever disappeared. Consequently, it was widely believed that they must have some special inherent characteristic which made them immune to detection by the Intruder. Additionally, Khylt's outside environment was so hostile that its inhabitants had long ago adapted to living beneath the surface of their world. Khyltians would have no problems living in the Wasp's underground warren of tunnels and close quarters for long periods.

The official's proposal was accepted, and the indigo-complexioned race had not lacked for highly qualified volunteers.

I was greatly honored to be accepted and named as the Wasp's Commander. Now, I find myself facing the possibility of literally going down with my ship!

Vick shook off his melancholy and, as he waited, considered his comrades.  Both Alten Juballe and Shallen Swight went through the Academy with me. Kelt Walteer completed his education in a private school near Ganlon that emphasized martial arts.

Aboard the Wasp, Alten was the Power Systems Officer, Shallen handled Communications and Kelt was in charge of the curious combination of Astrogation and Supply. Normally the need for astrogation was slight to nonexistent in an orbital vehicle; suddenly it had taken on life and death proportions. Kelt, the old man of the crew at thirty-six, had developed an unaccustomed haggard appearance with the sudden crush of responsibility.

I'll have to watch Kelt closely.

Alten and Shallen were both thirty-three. Vick remembered the outdoor "camping trip" they had shared during a school break. As natives to Khylt, they were understandably uneasy about being out in the open with minimal protection; being outside and unprotected on Khylt's surface in daylight offered a life expectancy of about two increasingly torturous hours. At night, the projected survival time was roughly three hours longer.

Vick was thirty-four. He fervently hoped to reach thirty-five.

When the three invited crew members had arrived and Vick had explained the reason for the meeting, Kelt took the lead. "The situation is gettin' punk. I was checkin' the course correction info. The numbers comin' from the slab gotta be optimistic by at least six hours." Kelt had a disconcerting way of adding unique twists to his speech; "slab" was his own personal reference for the Science Lab. The way he spat that word out created a vivid picture of a mortuary table in a cold, empty crypt. With hibernation in effect, it wasn't a bad description of a machine-run underground installation devoid of people.

"Any luck with remotes for the position rockets?" he asked Alten.

"None. They're in bad shape. Nobody ever anticipated them gettin' long and heavy use, and their extended operation at high-G after their automatic activation seriously over-stressed them. The entire lot of them are either barely working or completely shut down. The ones we can get to now can't be repaired in time. We could torch through the compartment doors, but that's time consuming and a fire hazard. Worse, we can't even intentionally set a fire to do the job of our self-destruct mechanism that we're missing because the politicos eliminated it 'for cost considerations.' I guess it's actually not so bad, since all we'd accomplish would be to send a charred Wasp crashin' into Kepren.

"Bottom line? I hate to say it, but I see no way to gain control in time." Alten slammed his fists down in frustration. "Besides, even if we could instantly repair all of them, their combined thrust still might not do the job."

Vick bit his lip and turned to Shallen. "What about that lost telemetry link with the Science Lab?"

"We're working on it. Should have duplex hookup within the hour. Two hours after connection's established, we should know exactly where on Kepren the impact will be. But that'll do nothing more than establish our point of impact with absolute precision. Besides, the last data showed that it's almost positive the Wasp is going to hit close enough to Mathlen to disable...probably destroy...the Lab and the Control Center."

The others glared at him while Vick winced.

"Sorry! I meant to say where the impact would be if..." He ground to a halt, realizing his words were making things worse.

"Fragus, Shallen," swore Kelt. "Glad you're not the morale officer." He winked slyly at Alten. "If we'd had to suffer that kind of sweet talk all the time, we'd all have been dead long ago."

Subdued groans followed the comment. Since there was little enough humor of any kind in their situation, Vick let it pass. "Anything from the Lab about our possible evacuation?" he queried hopefully.

"Just that they're working on it," Alten replied. "But I have a plan...of sorts." His breathing became quick and shallow as he stared down at his clenched hands.

Finally Shallen prompted, "Well, don't keep us in suspense... out with it. man!"

"Well, it's awful shaky, but it might work. Kelt has confirmed that we have several portable transmitters and enough pressure suits for everyone. Maybe we could exit from the hatch nearest the new equator. Not enough transmitters for everyone, but... maybe... small groups tethered together, with a transmitter for each group... that might work. With our increased spin, the surface speed there will be greater than escape velocity." Alten shrugged. "The trick is to eject into space at just the right time and at just the right angle to be thrown toward the vicinity of a waiting ship."

Vick felt a claw of fear close around him. His palms and forehead became damp at the thought of this daring plan. For a Khyltian, any EVA was frightening.

In theory, nothing could be simpler. But simple does not mean easy! Certainly shuttles are coming from Kepren for a rescue attempt. But, a hundred things could go wrong! Any one of them would leave all or part of us lost in the trackless void. In groups of seven each, five separate egresses would be required. In the worst scenario, we could be spread out over three hundred and sixty degrees of different trajectories. Insanity! But just maybe...

Aloud, under tight control, he said, "Got enough p-suits for everybody? And how many transmitters?"

"Enough suits...but only four working transmitters, plus two hopefuls. The others are junk."

"Sufficient air in all corridors leading to the outer doors? And— if we do a complete system shutdown first— can we reach them without having to torch through sealed doors?"

"Fragus, Vick, I just now had the idea! It scares me that I even thought of it!"

Vick thumped both thumbs of one hand against his hollow cheek, the Khyltian equivalent of snapping his fingers. "It's even riskier than that, Alten. If we shut down all power, we'll never get our systems back up. And if we can't get those doors open...or can't get the entire crew to one spot...no backup plan will be possible."

Alten shivered, then gathered himself together. "Want me to check it out?"

"Yeah, get right on it— but don't stop thinking of other possible solutions. And get at least one more transmitter working if you can."

When Alten left, Vick muttered to himself, "If we can get another transmitter working, we could divide into five groups of seven people each. Shazz! If just one transmitter malfunctions, it almost certainly means seven people lost."

"That ain't the worst of it," Kelt said, shifting from the edge of Vick's desk to a chair. "I haven't figured...or even wanted to figure it...but the spin's gonna' toss us with heavy duty velocity. Unless all of us can be tossed in pretty much the same direction, pick up time may exceed life-support...for at least some of us. And I ain't partial to driftin' in vacuum minus air." He paused, trying to forget the image. "Plus, the transmitters weren't meant for this kind of action. Their scope's limited and their strength as direction locators will fizzle out fast the further we coast."

Vick wiped beads of glistening perspiration from his dark forehead. "Any more good news?"

"Sure, Vick," Shallen laughed darkly, "we found a few Kylorean comedies you can watch in your spare time."

Vick's frown caused Shallen to smile ruefully. "Sorry! I didn't think you liked Kelt's last batch of news enough to really want more!"

Kelt's brow furrowed. "Well, it's fair to ask if we can get out of this hunk o' rock quick enough for our deadline...at least, without givin' deadline a meanin' I don't much care to think about. The kicker is, the distance between the critical point and Kepren is too short to use SLT express, but those local tubs will get here...well, just in time to collect our carcasses, prob'ly."

Vick sat still for almost a minute, deep in thought. Finally he spoke quietly. "Kelt, you may be right...but let's not abandon the idea yet. It's really all we have at the moment. Keep after it, just as though we are going to use it. Recheck the calculations to make sure the shuttles actually could reach us in time. There may be no other choice."

Vick's senses swam briefly and he realized it had been over forty hours since he had slept. "Shallen, I've got to get some shut-eye. Wake me in four hours and check the crew in the meantime. Make sure anyone who's been awake twenty-five hours or more gets some sleep. That's an order."

"Aye, aye, Commander," the men replied, leaving to carry out Vick's orders.

Vick moved to his bunk, considering the implications of Alten's tentative plan.  The rescue ships may not be able to reach us in time...but, at least, our getting off this bucket might free up the AIDDs and let them destroy the Wasp before it hits Kepren. If it comes to that...

# CHAPTER 13: Earth

The ship rose smoothly and Jason sensed, rather than felt, a gradual rotation of the entire vessel. Firmly he ordered, "View screen astern!"

He felt a moment of vertigo and his pulse quickened as the entire front of the cabin seemed to vanish. Suddenly, nothing separated the trio from the open view "below," revealing rapidly receding trees and landscape. The ship continued its unbelievable acceleration and, in only a heartbeat, the Ozier's house and barn melded into a larger pattern of diminishingly small structures. Those details were quickly replaced by rapidly receding geometric patterns of darkening towns and farmland. Then the view below rapidly fogged over, replaced by a vast rolling snowbank of clouds. Finally, the previously setting sun again appeared slightly above the horizon, casting streaks of orange and gold across an indigo sky.

Kyle was amazed that their rapid departure had caused virtually no physical sensation of movement. They had remained comfortably seated on their contoured chairs. After the initial disorientation when the cabin seemed to tilt down at right angles to the horizontal, their passage had felt perfectly calm and steady, disturbed only by the visual perception of the tremendous acceleration that had ripped them loose from the Earth.

Samantha had thrilled with the remarkable rapidity of the changes before her. After the brief disorientation brought on by the visual axis shift, she found herself searching for superlatives to describe the unfolding scene. These experiences and the rate of ascent were remarkable... spectacular... inconceivable! Quickly she dismissed all those modifiers as inexact and insufficient. She decided that only now had she personally experienced the meaning of the word, "awesome." Then a brief thrill of intuition told her to reserve "awesome" for what was yet to come, followed by an unaccountably deep sense of peace with her unbidden thought: It's going to be OK, kids. We're coming home.

Jason felt the blood rushing through his veins, exhilarating his whole being.  This is what it means to be alive! Really alive! A consciousness he almost— almost— recognized whispered from somewhere deep in his mind, conveying ideas just below the threshold of clear perception. Almost like a long-lost friend softly urging, "Jason... Jason it's time to remember. You've done this so many times before!"

He couldn't quite grasp the feeling. His only remotely similar memory was of flying in a small craft with the Earth less than a mile beneath him. It had been a fragile twin-winged affair that relied on the atmosphere to lift it— and that only then after it had sputtered and lumbered across the ground, struggling to gain enough speed to lift tentatively into the sky.

But this magnificent vessel required no such tenuous crutches! It moved with a fluid certainty that spoke of limitless power, unaffected by surging air turbulence. Their rapid acceleration caused the Earth to fall far astern. It quickly dwindled into a distant blue and white ball.

Jason was surprised again to hear himself say words not provided by ADIZ: "Bow view."

The view of the Earth vanished. Again came the momentary vertigo as the "wall-less" scene before them instantly "opened" to reveal the quiet majesty of space: countless brilliant stars strewn across a depthless black void.

#

# CHAPTER 14: Cronul

The construct hovered in a region of space so devoid of stars that only faint, fuzzy smears of light could be seen, far distant from it. Had any spacefarer stumbled into the region unannounced, any accurate observations reported to any known scientific community would have confirmed— in the scientists' minds— one of two facts: either the advanced derangement of the spacefarer, or the virtual refutation of their most cherished hypotheses concerning time, dimension, space, and their entire cosmology!

However, there was very, very little likelihood that such accurate observation would occur. In fact, the chance for such a discovery was on the close order of one in ten billion.

There were excellent reasons for that magnitude of improbability. The construct simply could not be approached without permission. Further, should anyone manage to approach uninvited, the construct would simply not be there to be seen by any prying eyes— not even the multi-spectrum sensor-eyes of the most advanced machine-intelligence.

Even invited guests who were allowed to approach and view their destination would be shocked to discover that it was not exactly a planet, but what appeared to be a fragment of a planet, with a partially curved surface. Yet, impossibly, an atmosphere could be seen above that surface. A hazy border surrounding the construct might alternately occlude or reveal the distant, fuzzy points of light as the invited visitor moved closer. If their ship was privileged enough to merit an extended stay in near space, they might discover that the object did not remain static; rather, its fragmentary section of a planet constantly changed rotation inside that hazy frame.

Specially honored guests who were allowed to actually land would find a small, rather idyllic town. Viewing the area immediately around the town, they would see surrounding fields of growing crops. However, unless they were invited to go closer, they would never recognize the towering stone wall, since its great distance from the town would make it appear to be only natural cliffs shrouded in mist. Nor could they identify that high, distant wall as a huge enclosure.

Unaided, uninvited, they could find the town and fields. Nothing more.

But there was, in fact, more.

Much more!

* * *

"Looks like rain. Prob'ly get soaked afore we get home."

"Naw, them clouds is just hangin' low. They's too thin-lookin' to hold much."

"I jest dunno. Anyways, look't how dark 'tis over at his place and look't how them clouds kind'a funnels down over it. I tell ya it's mighty spooky!"

"Yeah, sorta looks like somethin's fixin' to happen. Whatcha reckon that there wall's for? I ain't never seen such a high wall anywheres else, 'specially one that's all rock, like that un. And lookit the way them doors is set back deep. Them walls gotta be three times thick'r'n you is tall."

"I seen a carriage pull up in front'a them doors once't or twice't...an' folks goin' in there. Sure makes a feller wonder...but'cha ain't never catchin' me goin' in. Huh-uh! Not by a long sight!"

# CHAPTER 15 Earth

#

Following just over an hour of flight, a greenish dot expanded in front of them, gradually resolving into a long radiant cylinder with a deep emerald interior, sharp mirror-edged outlines and concentric rainbows of gravitationally lensed light around its opening. Their speed ebbed as they came closer, and finally they halted near the cylinder. The radiant tube receded far into the limitless depths of space, chased by shimmering arcs of prismatic light.

ADIZ's voice came to them. "Admiral?"

Startled from his reverie, Jason could manage only a distracted, "Yes?"

"What you see before you is the Alliance's means of interstellar transport, referred to as an 'InterSpace tunnel', 'dimensional tube', or 'star tunnel'. The mouth of the tunnel before us is, in Earth terms, 1.25 Astronomical Units from the sun and one AU above the solar plane."

Jason nodded. "But how does it work?"

ADIZ paused, then responded slowly. "You will remember the precise workings once your masks are removed. However, at the most basic level, the tunnel is created by focusing titanic magnetic fields, which are generated by tapping a small portion of a nearby star's nearly unlimited energy. Though its exact processes and implications have not been agreed upon by Alliance theoreticians, the practical reality is that the tunnel makes it possible to traverse stellar distances faster than light can span them."

Kyle interrupted, asking, "ADIZ, Professor Einstein's work says that nothing can be accelerated beyond the speed of light. I don't pretend to completely understand it, but I'm pretty sure Earth's scientists accept his theory. So how can we travel faster than light?"

"As I explained in answer to a question that you, Commodore, asked prior to boarding, this ship merely reaches a fraction of the speed of light within the dimensional tubes. The tubes themselves may be thought of as shortcuts that exist outside of normal time-space; we call their location 'InterSpace'. The combination of the ship's high speed and the dimensional shortcut allows us to reach our destination faster than light could have reached it. Yet, paradoxically, the ship always moves far slower than the speed of light."

"Damn it," Kyle muttered. "I hoped I could make him slip up and contradict himself. But, if he's lying, I've gotta admit that his lies are consistent."

ADIZ resumed as if there had been no interruption. "The appearance of the tunnel throughout our trip will remain as you now see it, but— while we are inside— the tunnel walls will appear to scroll past as though we were passing through a physical tube. Concentric rings of green light will appear to move repeatedly around and then pass ahead of us.

"After the ship enters the tube, it will accelerate to a predetermined speed. There will be no perceptible physical sensation, although you will be restricted to your seats during the acceleration phase. Thereafter, no further propulsion will be required from the ship."

"But isn't it dangerous to us," asked Kyle, "to accelerate so quickly?"

"It once was thought impossible to protect the ship and passengers from the inertial forces present during the brief but intense acceleration required by InterSpace travel. Again, I must be inexact, but it was discovered that the damaging forces of high acceleration could be offset by interwoven "bands" of polarized gravitic and weak nuclear energies. Yagdel Mathlen's theories involving the unification of the properties of electromagnetism, gravity, and the weak nuclear force were the keys to the breakthrough. Based upon his discovery, sophisticated technologies and equipment were developed to create and maintain these protective force fields."

ADIZ again patiently returned to the briefing. "These dimensional tunnels are not all alike. The deep emerald color of the one before you reveals its original extremely high energy phase, used only in times of exceptional urgency. Once we enter, we are committed to a journey lasting almost four Earth days. Each of your chairs contain controls for quieting mental and physical processes and— when you desire— inducing sleep. You need only place your wrist over the sensitized panel— third from the front on the left armrest— and think, "sleep." You may also mentally select duration or other preferred settings; the machine will record and comply exactly. If, alternatively, you elect to remain alert, I can provide you with consumables whenever you desire."

ADIZ then stated flatly. "Admiral, if you are ready to proceed, the proper command is 'Engage'." He returned to the pilot's compartment.

Jason glanced to his right. Samantha nodded confidently. When he looked to his left, Kyle flashed a huge grin and said, "If this is a hoax, it's one hell of a good one. Let's go!"

Jason did not pause. "Engage!"

The view screen shifted astern, offering a fleeting glimpse of the Earth's sun, which suddenly vanished as the tunnel mouth behind them seemed to close. The view immediately shifted back to the bow, revealing accelerating waves of emerald light pulsing rapidly around and ahead of the ship. After a short time, the rate of the light-bands passing ahead of them decreased, leaving a steady rhythm of concentric emerald radiance pulsing past them with a slightly hypnotic effect.

They moved inexorably toward a future none of them could yet imagine.

#

# CHAPTER 16: Cronul

The compound sweltered in summer's afternoon heat. Its rows of two-story rectangular barracks had peeling paint overlaid with a layer of powdery gray dust. Spaced evenly between the buildings' outside perimeters, were carefully tended dirt walkways bordered with rows of carefully white-washed stones. The collection of structures was totally surrounded by a wire-mesh fence twice a man's height. Outside this fence, and on all sides for a considerable distance, were fields where the refugees of the compound tended growing crops during the daylight hours.

Had one of the brighter refugees been able to view the compound from a great height, he would have immediately deduced one fact: these fields and the compound they surrounded were a totally isolated and autonomous region, completely different— and seemingly detached— from all the remaining areas. Within that unique region, except for the barracks and their small fields, the area was a vast wilderness, marked by only one rarely traveled road. That narrow dirt lane ambled across the wilderness to finally terminate, far from one very remote corner field, at a huge stone-walled enclosure.

* * *

Hoga smiled.

<All is well in the universe.

And soon it will be even better.>

#

# CHAPTER 17: InterSpace

The ship moved silently inside the star tunnel.

The group had been discussing their impressions of this incomprehensible journey through InterSpace when ADIZ reappeared from the forward compartment. "As I earlier indicated, you are free to sleep now and during the curse of our trip, as you choose. However, in view of the current crisis, I would suggest we immediately begin the pre-conditioning which will allow more rapid removal of your masks once we reach Kepren. If this is acceptable, I can have information about this crisis brought to the view screen. Some of it may be incomprehensible now, but it will all be clear to you once the masks are removed. Admiral, I await your command."

"View screen off." The screen darkened and interior lighting levels gradually increased. Their eyes readjusted to the now familiar surroundings. Jason gave his assent to begin the pre- conditioning, and ADIZ resumed speaking.

"Now that we are en route, you are about to be given a great deal of background information, which is valuable in its own right. However, by also re-introducing you to specific fragments of special information and personal experience which once were especially meaningful to you, it will accelerate the process and minimize the risks involved with the later removal of your masks.

"Accordingly, the first step in that process is to inform each of you of your true names." Raised eyebrows and wide-eyed looks were shared before the robot continued. "You were assigned given names common to Earth that would be very closely approximate the sound of your true names. Admiral Ozier, your given name is actually Jazon. Vice-Admiral Ozier, your true first name is Sabanda. Commodore, your given name is Kyell."

Before they could even comment, ADIZ stepped to the side of the cabin. The front compartment wall became milky, then cleared, apparently creating an opening into a very large room. All three passengers started involuntarily at the seeming expansion of their space. Within that holographic space was what appeared to be a large professional stage with a massive lectern. Next to it stood the life-like image of a man facing them, preparing to speak. It was not Jason as he looked while watching himself, but Jazon, somehow both older and younger at the same time. The chestnut hair had not yet been bleached to a mottled sandy brown by three years of outdoor labor under the Earth's sun. Trim and obviously fit, the striking black and silver uniform he wore could not hide the lesser muscle mass and definition that years of hard farm work would later develop. Although not tanned and weathered by years of outside exposure, the image wearing Jazon's face was more haggard and lined. The image also seemed somehow shorter than Jason's 5'11" stature, as if he bore the burden an almost unbearable weight.

Still, despite showing the effects of having pushed himself to his mental and physical limits, the strength radiating from his deep brown eyes enhanced his distinctly imposing aura of power and presence. He began to move briskly toward the lectern when the image froze in mid-step.

ADIZ continued, "The images and scenes you are about to see were prepared almost four Earth years ago, prior to your masking. Each of you participated in the recordings you will now see."

As the robot ceased speaking, Jazon's image reanimated, moved behind the lectern. and spoke with the wry hint of a grin. "I never realized how odd it would feel to...." He rubbed his temple. "Well, to be speaking to myself. Still, I hope that my wife, Commodore Trandic and I have survived to hear this..." He paused as a small shudder passed, then continued. "This is difficult, but I must presume all three of us still survive, and I will speak accordingly. If I am wrong...if who I am speaking to numbers less than three...I am deeply sorry."

Jazon took a another deep breath, raised and squared his shoulders, and proceeded more firmly. "The fact that you are hearing and seeing this recording indicates that you are needed to assist in some crisis. That is, you are needed to assist in a new and unforeseen problem, or to assist in some additional aspect of our original dilemma. I find it almost impossible to believe that I could ever forget the cause of our crisis and the events that have brought us to this point." He shook his head, mystified. "However, I must trust that the mask will work as designed.

"The first and primary purpose of this session is to pre-condition each of you for the new reality you will face when your masks are removed. At the outset, I must caution you that this is a vastly different reality than your rural existence on Earth.

"Your lack of knowledge of your true past is a direct result of a desperate plan which we devised, in close cooperation with the Alliance Council, to counter a menace as relentless and implacable as it is unfathomable." Any hint of a smile had faded. "Because you are still 'in mask,' time sequences will seem distorted to you. Nevertheless, starting almost eight years ago...eight years before the time I am recording this message...a series of critical events occurred. You are about to see a re-creation of one of those events, which forever altered our lives and forced us onto our current path."

The speaker's rostrum and the stage faded, to be replaced by an image now familiar to the trio.

A ship sailed smoothly through the ephemeral green radiance of its corridor between the stars. The darker green bands slowed their rate of pulsing over and ahead of the ship, coming almost to a stop. The ship rapidly decelerated, preparing to leave the artificial cocoon of InterSpace. A distant fore-point irised into an opening. The craft quickly slipped through it and passed back into normal space.

The vessel's robotic crew immediately initiated standard communication and astrogation routines. It required less than a minute to recognize that this standard supply mission had become anything but routine. All recognition and response transmissions, including requests for docking at their destination planet's orbital facility, went unanswered. The ship's guidance computers and proximity detectors received none of the expected system–recognition signals. Astrogation could not determine the craft's spatial coordinates using the position of the planetary system's sun, for no hint of that primary star could be found.

After repeated checks for malfunction, astrogation sensors were redirected to nearby stars. Their findings indicated the ship had undeniably arrived at the desired spatial coordinates, but the planetary system—including its sun—had disappeared, leaving only one significant sign it had ever existed.

Although no other detectable rubble or radiation traces could be found, wide–field sensors revealed a single large object in the near vicinity: a rapidly receding, massive, violently truncated portion of an orb 12.6 million miles from their position.

Sensitive scanners revealed that, had the full orb been present, it would have precisely matched the size and mass of the missing system's uninhabited seventh planet. The neatly sheared, lens–shaped remnant was less than a third of the original mass, perfectly flat on one side, and stripped of atmosphere. Part of a once a living planet, it had been reduced to a frigid rock, barren and devoid of life, tumbling through space.

"That was the aftermath of having a complete solar system— the primary, together with its planets— simply vanish," Jazon explained as the re-creation faded. "Its disappearance was discovered when one of our interstellar transports entered the area shortly after the system had disappeared. However, it was not the first such tragedy we experienced."

The image of Jazon on the stage faded, only to be replaced by Sabanda. The three watchers blinked.

Again, the image differed from that to which the audience was accustomed. Although no more beautiful than the homespun Samantha, this was a regal figure attired in full military regalia. The hair was the familiar rich auburn, but shorter, framing the sculpted, elegant face of a commanding woman in her early thirties. The elegantly tailored, gleaming white uniform suggested a form which— while a shade less full-figured than the farmer's wife— was most pleasing. The sparkling blue eyes were exactly the same, as was the warm and sunny smile so loved by all who knew her.

This image of Sabanda spoke quietly. "While this presentation is being recorded, all three of us are together." She smiled across time, both her voice and her demeanor gaining authority and somehow assuring her audience that all would be well. "This is how I continue to see us, and how I am able to continue with the account all of you are now hearing."

"The disturbing images you have just seen was a ship's recording of the scenes it came upon in the aftermath of the third system disappearance from the Kepren Cluster. The first disappearance happened two and a half years before. A second followed the first, less than a year later. Shortly after that second event, a plan to protect the citizens was developed and proposed. It was, admittedly, desperate and was met with strong and determined opposition. So much opposition that implementation was deferred and— at the time— thought to be permanently laid to rest."

"Then, just over a year after the second system vanished, came this third disappearance—the one whose results you have just observed. However, a deep-space sentinel recorded much of that actual event in real-time, which will now be displayed."

Sabanda's image faded and was replaced with a view of space— an unexceptional starry background, with a nearby star and several planets. Then a purple haze developed in one quadrant, undulating, alternately wavering and developing hard borders. As it moved inexorably toward the system's sun, tantalizing hints of unknown constellations were alternately revealed and obscured within the haze's borders. As this violet specter relentlessly expanded, it gradually engulfed the system. Its borders became sharply fixed, framing the sun and six of its planets— and nearly the seventh. When the haze faded, the sun and six planets had vanished. Most of the seventh planet had also disappeared, leaving behind only a lens-shaped slice, writhing in its death throes.

The scene was not centered, obviously had not tracked the specific flow of the action. Still, it caught enough of the catastrophe to horrify its watchers.

The image of Sabanda returned. "That is our best recording of any of the System Disappearances, which we usually refer to as 'SDs.' It was recorded by an artificial satellite designed to study solar flares.

"With those three vanished systems, a total of over six and a half billion people had been lost. The entire surviving population of the Kepren Cluster Alliance, more than ninety-four billion people, remained at risk. This dramatic recording of the third SD horrified our citizens and galvanized support for the previously rejected plan. Opposition crumbled as even formerly adamant opponents, who had denounced the plan bitterly, conceded the desperate need for action and called for the plan's immediate enactment."

Her image slowly faded. Then the tall, rangy figure of Kyell appeared. He appeared somewhat younger than either of the two who had preceded him. Except for his olive skin being a shade or two lighter than Kyle's familiar deep tan and the ribbon-bedecked blue Commodore's uniform, this figure was virtually unchanged from the farmer who watched his image speak.

"The plan involved a two part program. First, a race to develop a personal cloaking system that would effectively disguise or block those mental processes we believe may attract the intrusion...or Intruder. 'Intruder' is the name we have given to the power behind the system disappearances, although it is unknown if the SDs actually are directed by some malevolent force or intelligence."

Kyell raked his long fingers through his jet-black hair, and continued cautiously. "You should know that the mask entails... some element of danger. Possible side effects range from minor disorientation to serious instability... with the worst being complete derangement. Any of these effects may be either temporary or permanent."

He took a calming breath and continued. "Accordingly, the risks of the masking process were deemed unacceptable for general use on the Alliance's citizens. Still, it was decided that taking these risks with a small percentage of our population was necessary, in light of one overriding need: trained leaders who could be made available quickly to deal with any sudden crisis. We— you, as well as the others now assembled in this room— have agreed to assume the responsibilities and risks of being masked."

The audience of three was startled when ADIZ again paused the display. "I have been instructed to interrupt the presentation at this point to clarify the specific cause of the current crisis. The reason for your retrieval is as follows:

"Another event occurred recently—the first disappearance that directly threatens Kepren and the heart of the cluster. A planet has vanished from within the Syzygy system— the solar system of which the planet Kepren is a part—without otherwise disturbing the system's star or any of its other planets. Fortunately, the inhabited artificial satellite— called the Wasp— that was orbiting the vanished planet was also spared. However, the orphaned satellite's new trajectory will bring it dangerously close to Kepren. The entire planet could be at risk unless certain action— requiring your presence— is taken quickly."

ADIZ stepped back and Kyell's presentation resumed.

"Since it was decided that masking was too dangerous for the general population, the second part of the plan was developed. The well-perfected medical technology of hibernation-sleep would be used for the vast majority of the Alliance's population. They then would be evacuated to newly constructed hibernation-sanctuaries, on planets in systems well outside the Cluster's borders, until the crisis passed."

The image of Kyell faded and Jazon returned. "The plan's complete implementation has required roughly seven years. The construction of the hibernation-sanctuaries and the phased relocation of the Alliance's population to these facilities— with only a few exceptions— is now complete. The Wasp's small crew and those who will undergo the masking process remain awake."

The scene widened to reveal the entire stage, occupied by a few dozen people seated behind him. Most were in military uniform. Jazon turned and gestured toward the entire group. "We are the honored volunteers who have been chosen to be masked. We will undergo that process very shortly. We will then be transported— in small, separate teams— to the various remote, less technologically advanced planets selected for us to live on until we are needed."

He looked directly at his audience and smiled broadly as he concluded, "Never have I more sincerely meant anything than when I now say to all of us, 'Good luck'!"

ADIZ reappeared as the scene faded, saying, "This concludes the part of the pre-recorded presentation which has been prepared by each of you and stored for use when needed." He waited patiently as Jason, Samantha and Kyle huddled together discussing what they had seen. When they seemed to have recovered a measure of equanimity, ADIZ continued. "The guidelines for your pre-programming require that you be given a break at this time in order to allow you to process the information you have received." A door panel opened in a side wall. "You may use the facilities through that doorway to refresh yourselves prior to eating. Food will be brought to you in this cabin. Your meal will be ready in ten minutes. After your meal, an additional ten-hour break period will be taken. You may use that time for discussion, quiet rest or sleep. "

ADIZ turned and left the cabin.

All three stood up. Kyle stretched and twisted, letting out a loud groan. "Ow! I may not be sure what world I'm from, but I know I've never been big on classroom time. Long stretches like that make my brain hurt! Am I ever glad the tin man finally decided it was time to eat!"

#

# CHAPTER 18: InterSpace

The food they had been served before and after sleeping was quite good, although quite different than what they were accustomed to. After the first meal, ADIZ had efficiently cleared the dishes away and the trio had compared notes before sleeping. The sleep chairs had proven to be as restful as promised. ADIZ again returned to the cabin, cleared away the remains of their latest meal and indicated it was time to resume the pre-conditioning process.

"Next, you will be briefed by several specialists in specific facets of the Alliance's culture, science, technology, history, and political structure. Since you lack any recollection of their identities, they will introduce themselves as they speak."

For the next two hours, a parade of people, each briefly occupying the stage, brought the trio to as complete a level of understanding of the Kepren Cluster Alliance as could be reasonably expected while they were still masked.

They learned that Kepren's central geographical position in the local star group was no coincidence. Although the Alliance had begun— as a union of only three worlds in just two stellar systems—almost a thousand years ago, the development of InterSpace travel had been the central driving force in the development and growth of the modern Alliance. Its application permitted the formation and maintenance of a united political force spanning the eighty-one light-year diameter of the cluster.

In an astute political move, the Cluster Alliance Council selected a sparsely populated— but centrally located— planet as the site of the new capitol. An entire city, Ganlon, was constructed on the planet Kepren to serve as both the hub and the focus of the united civilizations. Thus was born the existing name for the far-flung, unified government entity: The Kepren Cluster Alliance.

Once established as the capitol, Ganlon inevitably became the cluster's de facto center of commerce, requiring enhanced transportation capabilities. Although this provided Kepren with state-of-the-art facilities, astute planners realized the increasing traffic would quickly outstrip even the massive InterSpace support facilities that had been planned. Since the generation of a star tube included the capability of both 'to' and 'from' modes, and since Kepren would be a target of so much travel, the solution was rather straightforward: outlying systems were required to furnish the "round trip" energy for a star tunnel whenever their target destination was Kepren. Thus, while Kepren became known as the "Crossroads of the Cluster," its own energy requirements for interstellar travel plummeted to less than two percent of the original projections.

Following this long succession of cultural and political and military dignitaries, two young children stepped into view. Samantha's eyes misted over in instant recognition and Jason held his breath.

"Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! Hi, Uncle Kyell! It's me, Gavin!" He was impishly interrupted by, "and me, Marlinyn!" Gavin continued. "They say you won't remember us when you see this. But we don't believe them— you couldn't ever forget us!" Together they called out, "We love you!" As they began to return to their seats, the younger Marlinyn turned impulsively and pleaded, "Please hurry home and save the galaxy so we can wake up and give you hugs and kisses."

"Oh... no... noooo!" Sabanda wailed as the children faded from view. "Jazon! How could we forget our own children?".

ADIZ paused the display and Kyle gently hugged Jason and Samantha as tears rolled freely down their cheeks. After a long silent minute, Samantha kissed Kyle appreciatively on the cheek, then Jason warmly on his moist lips. As she wiped the last of the cooling tears from her face, she whispered, "Jason, in spite of all of the wonders ADIZ showed us on the Earth, it was the thought of our children that made me believe it could be true. Now I'm sure...I know. Whatever we have to do to succeed in our mission, we will do it. We must make sure our children are safe."

Jason nodded, unable to find words for his feelings. Finally, he said simply, "I love you... and we will."

ADIZ had waited patiently during this exchange, and continued to do so as the trio regained their composure.  When they appeared to have largely gathered themselves, he spoke softly. "It was anticipated that this specific aspect of the pre-conditioning would be a particularly difficult experience for you to process. Accordingly, there is a mandatory break called for at this point. We will resume in one hour."

CHAPTER 19: Coalition

Lord Ptoriil Briin spoke into his clip-microphone in crisp tones: "Has Special Aide Braang reported?"

"No, Your Grace," replied the voice of Malaar, Lord Ptoriil's senior administrative aide.

Braang Pezzer, Briin thought with mild distaste, the newly acclaimed hero who detected the comet on a collision course with the home world of House Braang. Hero? Hah! The truth was that Pezzer almost missed the signal that was automatically generated by the Advance Warning Detection System. He had barely heard it over his whining about having to sit a routine shift on the system. Besides, the nine years advance warning it provided meant there would never be any real danger to the Braang homeworld. It mattered little. Despite Pezzer's chance role in the discovery, he had managed to capitalize on his brush with fame effectively enough to get himself admitted to the Coalition's prestigious legislature, the Conclave. Of course, Pezzer is politically well connected. Plus, his relative youth and aristocratic looks lend him a certain charisma. He really is much like I was ten...no twenty years ago. If only he listened more to his Uncle Ktor!

Briin had used Pezzer's fortuitous set of circumstances as the occasion to "elevate" him to a Special Aide position.  Well, Braang Ktor is a top political advisor and one of my oldest friends. And it was his wise suggestion that I find a position that might move his nephew away from his odious father's influence. So what if Pezzer suspects the promotion was made primarily so I can keep a close eye on him? Any such thoughts would be correct— but he could never prove it.

Of course, Briin admitted, Pezzer is smart. I must respect that. He did manage to neatly and rapidly capitalize on the opportunity to enhance his political status. Young and impulsive. High-strung. A bit too cagey. Disrespectful. But smart... no question about that. He must be watched. "Promoting him" to Special Aide made sense and it does assure that we can keep tight reins on him.

He swiveled his seat and surveyed the scene before him. To the uninitiated, he appeared to be facing a console whose only support was a thin polished slab only marginally wider than its horizontal dimension. The entire assembly appeared to be suspended in the void of space, with distant stars clearly visible.

Briin spoke into the air. "Malaar, please notify Special Aide Braang, CommSat priority one, flash response requested. Follow that with our most current detailed report on HG-73425, section 31/475/1653H.

"Also, add the following comments: The warp there is approaching critical limits and three of the system's planets are in quadrature with each other and their primary. Because of this wide spread of the planets relative to their sun, maximum transition width will be required to have any chance for the entire system to be captured without damage. Maximum target time for transition is within 10 hours, with 88.2% likelihood of transition within eight hours. Also, set in motion the final positioning of transfer generators for that region; bring them up to two-thirds power to assure that Transfer Threshold Condition One can be rapidly induced." His voice took on a slightly strident note. "We're coming down to the wire, so let's look smart and move quickly on this one. No mistakes!" Briin grimaced. "Send now!"

"At once, Your Grace," Malaar promptly replied. "And, Sir, should the other Regents be notified and concurrence of the Advisory Committee be secured?"

"Yes, Malaar—and thank you for your insight," he responded more softly. Then his steely tone returned. "But tell them instant action is required on this one. Also, confirm First Science Officer Laytonn's attendance during the capture, and arrange a meeting for her to report back to me...assuming, of course, that our recalcitrant Regent Advisors can recognize the urgency and actually approve the action."

"At once, Your Grace."

Ptoriil clicked off his microphone as he turned his attention to the slowly shifting visual images. He wondered again if, this time, there would be people on any of the planets affected by the impending capture. He had labored over the issue of making contact with them. His desire to make contact had been frustrated repeatedly by the Regent Advisors of the Mutual Advisory Committee. MAC's refusals— however worded or disguised— were always based on the Regents' unshakable fear that, following such a traumatic transition, any Coalition contact would be perceived as "an attacker making overtures to a subjugated people." But that was a typical attitude for the bickering Lords Regent of the twelve houses who— in addition to Briin, as Lord Regent of House Ptoriil— made up the full Mutual Advisory Committee.

Part of Briin's frustration was the fact he had been able to gain so little control over the increasingly complex situation. He wished again for a fine-tuning device that would allow him to focus on selected individuals. Then he could stop worrying about this mass translation problem, find one key person with the power to act and the ability to reason. Then, he felt sure, he could successfully explain the Coalition's actions, however hard the explanation might be to swallow. But the Advisory Committee had ruled that no contact be made by him or any of his delegates, adamantly maintaining their stance that it might precipitate a hostile confrontation from which no amount of diplomatic dialogue could ever extricate them.

Actually, I'm not being fair to the Lords of all the Houses. Sometimes they actually accomplish the Committee's designated purpose of honestly recommending viable and well-considered courses of action. It's just that— with the other twelve Houses equally divided into my opponents, neutrals, and my supporters— winning consensus is almost impossible. If only I had the support of one or two more of the Houses!

Briin shook his head.

However fractious the political opinions, why won't MAC at least let me reply to the distress calls of the captured systems with a simple and reasonable, "We hear you. How can we help?"

He had considered doing exactly that, despite MAC's wishes. He wanted to do it now. But he knew that taking such a prohibited action could result in the fall of House Ptoriil—and the possible destruction of the Coalition's perpetually tenuous confederacy.

Briin's disdain for the sheer cowardice of the Regents flared. In this secure privacy, he finally allowed himself to vocally vent his rage over the Regents' denials of his repeated requests. "MAC! Mutual Advisory Committee! Recalcitrant Regents! Pussyfooting, posturing politicians! Can't they find the courage and compassion to at least offer words of help and hope to the poor, beleaguered refugees of the captured systems?

"Why, by the gonads of Great-Grandfather Gozer, have I been chosen to shoulder these impossible burdens?"

#

# CHAPTER 20: InterSpace

The required hour break in the pre-conditioning had passed. ADIZ re-entered the cabin and asked if they were ready to continue. Samantha gave ADIZ a curt nod and said, "Continue."

He activated the holo-projection and a new, imposing figure appeared against a vague, colorless background: advanced in years, white halo of hair, smartly attired in an immaculately tailored diplomatic uniform. He stood with regal grace, facing them. Even had he lacked the special accoutrements of office, his aristocratic bearing clearly would transmit power and charisma. His measured, resonant bass voice only enhanced the impression.

"My name is Talir Brovean. I know that probably means nothing to you. However, once your masks are removed, I believe it may. First, I wish to express my heartfelt prayer that I am indeed addressing the whole of your party. As a caretaker of the Alliance and as your deep personal admirer, I sincerely hope each of you has survived and will survive unscathed the removal of your mask. Additionally I wish to offer my most sincere personal apology for first having encouraged, then ultimately having acted as leader of your plan's ardent opposition. Please understand that my apology is not being made only to the three of you. It will have been delivered and stored cluster-wide before your current viewing of it."

Brovean's figure paused for only a moment, during which his image quavered slightly. "Jazon, my deepest regret lies not so much in the injury I may have caused to you, personally, by my well meaning...please grant me this much...my well meaning resistance. Rather, and tragically, my apology is foremost for the millions of additional lives that were lost because of the delay I stubbornly championed. However desperate or ill-advised your plan originally may have seemed to many of us, its wisdom has been demonstrated by how few of our citizens have been lost in the eight disappearances which have occurred since the beginning of the plan's implementation."

The figure paused and shifted fractionally, inexplicably faster than any person could move. "Jazon, I now support the plan without reservation. I will do everything to assist in any way I can, within whatever powers may remain to me until the plan's successful conclusion. I have already stepped down, as our Council provides, to accord you full power over all arms of government. However, in light of recent events, that gesture may be moot...other than as a show of support." He paused, overcome with evident regret.

The trio had been staring fixedly at the figure. Subtle points not apparent at first had surfaced and made themselves known. The attire of this imposing figure had a certain "artistic perfection" found in portraits, but never in reality. The metallic buttons and evidences of merit were all too precise and perfectly polished. The wide sash overlaying his tunic, crossing his chest from shoulder to hip, never moved or sagged or wrinkled. But it was the eyes, with their subtle hint of vacancy that simply could not be reconciled. The overall impression was that of a figure being carefully animated in an artful manner, yet with less than complete perfection.

Brovean continued. "I shall be unable to play the role I had intended. However, when you arrive on Kepren, you will find a summary of my most recent suggestions and recommendations for action. Please do not interpret my more detached involvement as being uncaring. I hope I shall be able to communicate with you at least one more time. Please know...all who hear me...that these three brave souls have my full and unwavering blessing, whatever that is now worth.

"May the Universal Source of All Power be merciful and grant our urgent prayers for the success of your efforts." The figure of Brovean slowly dissipated.

As the interior of the ship returned to normal, Jason addressed ADIZ. "Was that the Head-of-State we have just seen? And do my orders come from him?"

"Admiral Ozier, for some time you have been the head of the uniformed services sector. Talir Brovean previously occupied the top civilian political position. He, like you, was in mask. However, he elected to assume the increased risk of remaining near the seat of power of the Kepren system, to be instantly available if his services were needed. His mask removal occurred a short time ago."

"But his image was different from the others," Sabanda noted curiously. "And the image wavered and flickered... almost as if..."

"It is my solemn duty to inform you," ADIZ responded, "that President Brovean suffered physical deterioration— including a stroke— and he died the day after..."

Kyle interrupted, "As a result of the mask removal?"

"No, Sir. As a medical precaution, his mask removal occurred two weeks after he suffered the stroke. He had long since passed his century mark, but previously had been in exceptionally good health for his age. Prior to being told of the Wasp crisis, he was recovering rapidly. However, the combined shock of Chadalmencondra vanishing and the Wasp's resulting threat to Kepren was more than his weakened body could withstand. As a result, he was not available to override the core programming of Mathlen's caretakers. His image appeared distorted because it was a recreation of the doppelganger image produced by his stored essence. His brain lives on in vitro, but all other corporeal remains of President Brovean have been rendered to ashes, as was his expressed wish."

Jason, Samantha and Kyle sat numbly pale. Kyle found his voice first: "ADIZ, are you saying that a dead person just addressed us?"

"That is a bit of an oversimplification, Sir. Some of the citizens in hibernation are stored intelligences, just as President Brovean now is. The intelligence you knew as Brovean is the entity which has just addressed you."

"Oh, great!" growled Kyle. "So he's not exactly dead...more like a ghost."

"Sir, in the past these issues were hotly debated in the Alliance. Eventually a consensus was reached. Current law recognizes stored essences as sentient beings. However, the laws also require that persons holding high office must be in the corporeal state. Opponents of the law are convinced it comes from the notion that personal appearances by someone in power are a primitive part of the exercise of control. Even so, the law stands. This is the reason for Past-President Brovean's inability to countermand the programmed restrictions of the AIDDs. This is also why he questioned the value of his support. It was a reference to the fact that— with his loss of any legal right to authority— the power of office has passed permanently from him."

The three passengers sat dumbfounded. They were returning to a civilization, apparently their own in the past, that has the ability to preserve the essence of life in a bottle! Now, such a stored intelligence had addressed them. What other marvels awaited them? Indeed, could they mentally and emotionally survive the promised flood of new revelations that would soon confront them?

After long moments of silence, Jason ventured a question. "ADIZ, this government..."

"The Kepren Cluster Alliance, Sir?"

"Yes," Jason nodded. "I was...am...the head of its military forces?"

"Sir, although no war has occurred for centuries, an exploratory and defensive force is maintained. Your full military title is 'Fleet Admiral of the Kepren Cluster Alliance Exploratory Armada'."

Jason sat quietly, but noticed both of his companions' unconscious shift toward more stern military postures. "So... who is the new Chief of State?" he finally asked, "Who gives me my orders?"

Three sets of eyes gaped wide as ADIZ replied. "My apologies, Sir. I thought that had been made clear. At least for the duration of the Alliance's state of emergency, you hold the political power as well. You are now the acting President."

#

# CHAPTER 21: Coalition

The console shifted about both its vertical and horizontal axes to better position the observer to view the impending action overhead. The dark star-flecked vault was illuminated by a nebulous haze, bathing the console in faint purplish light. The console brightened to a clear violet as the activity increased. Briin shifted his head and adjusted his jacket to relieve the pressure under his arms. Comfortably positioned, with a clear view of the target area, he waited expectantly.

Suddenly, the haze brightened within the halo, its flaring brilliance momentarily dominating the sky. Then the haze vanished.

An complete stellar system— a new solar system— was revealed.

Even having witnessed such phenomena several times before, Lord Ptoriil Briin sat in awe of the power. An entire system, not merely unshrouded...but captured!

Briin spoke. "Has FSO Laytonn confirmed the transfer?"

"Yes, Your Grace." replied Qiirron, one of Briin's trusted assistants. "The First Science Officer reports that the planetary system made a nominal transition, on schedule and intact. Preliminary data indicates no significant damage."

Briin chuckled. "Sounds just like her report on H39283...and we nearly lost it in transit."

"Not quite sir. She also reports this system came from different dimensional coordinates than the last dozen such events. It seems the process of transition was similar, yet almost unrelated. Also, the building design and materials of the only "settlement" in the new system— apparently an automated observation post— are different than any found on previous captures. Finally, the signals it transmits are being sent on different frequencies, employing different technologies, and in a language not previously identified. Initial attempts at translation had not yet succeeded."

"Those are significant differences." Briin thought for a moment, rubbing his temples. I hope this isn't some new development that comes back to bite us. Well, nothing I can do about it now. "OK... Ask her to write it up and send it to me. And then, Qiirron, would you meet me at my private office?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Briin dismounted from his cushioned contour couch. The chamber resumed normal lighting conditions. He moved to the transport docking area, musing. Why do her reports sometimes reflect as much optimism as fact? Still, her intuition is exceptional and her optimism is invariably well founded. She is, without doubt, the best Science Officer ever to occupy the position. I'm sure she knows I couldn't easily replace her. Worse, she senses how I feel about her— I've seen it in her eyes. She knows! I'm not sure whether to be worried or pleased.

He returned to the Regent's office suite, followed shortly by Qiirron. The moment they were comfortably settled, Briin began. "Record. Have FSO Laytonn check for life signs on the newly captured planets. Check for any damage that may have resulted and confirm that all planetary temperatures remain free of significant variations from norm. Also, establish the level of machine intelligence present, and whether any sentient life forms made the transition.

"Also, ask Laytonn to direct a thorough examination of all field generators. Check for damage, phase alignment discrepancies, and need for any to be transferred to repair and/or maintenance status. Further, if any must be taken off-line, arrange for the nearest available replacements to be activated and vectored in."

Briin paused, knowing Eebri would handle those standard procedures without his request. He wanted his memo specific enough to communicate that he wanted more than pro-forma reports. He got up, paced around the room, then sat back down. The aide waited quietly for several minutes, then cleared his throat. Briin glanced up with a little start, and hesitantly continued. "Uh... yes, Qiirron... request that Officer Laytonn join me as soon as these directives have been carried out. Instruct her to bring all her notes, together with full visuals of the capture... and whatever else she feels could be of interest."

The aide looked up questioningly.

Briin flushed slightly. "That's all for now. If I think of anything else I'll page you... Oh, is there any hot brew left in the outer office?"

"I don't think so, Sir, but if there is, shall I bring you a beaker?"

"Please. And if there's anything left to eat, bring that also... but if the cupboard's empty, don't bother ordering anything from stores."

Qiirron departed and Briin leaned back in his cushion. He couldn't help rehashing old concerns.  Hopefully, we'll finally learn more about the home civilization of these captured planets. If there has never been anything but massive self-replicating machines on the planets, it reveals a sophisticated level of technology. But what if we find even more evidence that all past inhabitants have been evacuated? Does it mean they've learned to detect the subtle signs which precede the captures? If so, how could we use that information to improve the transfer process and better protect any worlds we might capture in the future?

#

# CHAPTER 22: Alliance

A faint shadow of ephemeral consciousness stirred. In its ebb and flow a barely perceptible, gradual strengthening occurred. Phantom shapes and fragmentary recollections swirled and meshed like gossamer threads laid down by weavers of the tapestry of time. A warm comfort of belonging suffused the growing consciousness. Then another feeling, unbidden and unwanted, slipped in. A feeling of duty, its elements smelling of urgency, desperation, and commitment. Each element glimmered briefly in its bid for supremacy, then each faded back into the murky realm of unreality. Drifting consciousness struggled for the earlier feeling of simple well-being, but the uninvited feelings tenaciously remained.

Jason stirred on his couch. The movement animated his returning consciousness with a succession of flickering images. A farm house. A grove of trees. Outbuildings. The rich fields he had plowed and planted. His beloved wife and companion. His best friend, who owned the adjacent farm. The pastoral town he had lived near.

Each picture came clearer and sharper in his mind's eye. For the briefest of moments, each seemed to add to the totality of his life— his peaceful life: a joyful and loving marriage, a comfortable home, a friendly neighbor, satisfying work. The images melded together, represented security; home in both place and time.

Then the soothing picture frayed at the edges, ballooned in the center, and shattered into uncountable fragments. Each drifted slowly, agonizingly, away. Into the resulting void came a new picture, and the ponderous magnitude of full recollection flooded his mind. His simpler self, now revealed as mere fable, made a final vain effort to reassert itself. Instead, it was overwhelmed by the powerful thrust of fresh impressions.

A whole panorama of people— his people. His wife, somehow different, yet still his wife. His precious children. The wondrous machines. The cosmic threat. His sleeping friends. All coalesced irresistibly and began to resume their proper places in his restored recollection. Slowly, order and reality reasserted themselves.

In an instant of interminable length, he recaptured the true essence of his being.  Admiral Ozier opened his eyes.

Three newly familiar figures were close at hand: his wife, Vice-Admiral Sabanda Ozier; his friend and aide, Commodore Kyell Trandic; and ADIZ, his wondrously reliable robotic aide. The Science Lab he now occupied was the very one in which his mask had originally been put in place.  Jazon had returned to Kepren. Back to his home planet, back to the physical and political center of the cluster.

He exulted as his thoughts raced into focus.  It worked... I've been brought back and my memory is restored ! Every detail is clear and sharp. Vital memories totally lost for over three years have returned. Yet, the wonderful memories of my three years on Earth remain, as well.

The Admiral rose from the couch and looked to Sabanda and Kyell. With one quick glance, he knew that the restoration had returned their memories as well. After embracing Sabanda and learning that her restoration had been somewhat faster than his, he was assured that their children remained safe in hibernation. He then turned and gave his close friend a back-slapping hug that left Kyell gasping.

Laughing, Jazon addressed the robot. "ADIZ?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Please give me a current status update on the Wasp."

"VSDI 473 reported 1.48 minutes ago that the Wasp's crew still has been unsuccessful in their efforts to break through to either the power station or the bridge. The abnormal spin of the Wasp has not abated, so docking remains impossible. Although final calculations are now being made, no question remains: current trajectory analysis shows that the Wasp will make its final impact at the heart of Ganlon, with a strike point no more than 1.03 miles from its exact center. Projecting our departure for the Mathlen Command Center in eight hours— we will arrive eighteen hours prior to the critical point where the Wasp could no longer be safely... destroyed... without endangering Kepren."

Jazon interrupted. "ADIZ, what do you mean by 'departure in the next eight hours'? We need to get to the Command Center now!"

Sabanda laid her hand on Jazon's arm to calm him and said, "I wasn't able to tell you...or maybe I was afraid to. ADIZ insists that regulations require personnel to rest a minimum of eight hours following mask removal before being allowed to return to active duty." Seeing Jazon's face getting red, she hurried on, "Now, don't fly off the handle. I've already checked! There is no provision for an executive over-ride of that order by you or anyone else. Let's accept it gracefully and do what we can until we are allowed to go to the Command Center."

"We don't have time for that!" he bellowed. "I'm not about to sit here twiddling my thumbs because of some short-sighted directive. If Mathlen is destroyed, the Alliance's entire population Could be stranded in hibernation forever!" He banged his fist against the wall. "There has to be a way out of this mess!"

"And we will find it, Jazon," Sabanda quietly insisted. "But you know that blowing your top just makes it harder for you to think clearly. Ease back, Admiral."

His face lightened from storm intensity to a dark scowl. As he regain some control, he gritted out tersely, "ADIZ, do you know what a loophole is?"

"Sir, if I understand it correctly, it is a means of cleverly circumventing strict guidelines or regulations. While that may not be the exact definition, that is specialized information I have gained from observing your actions in the past, rather than through any officially sanctioned programming."

With a creeping smile, Jazon replied, "Close enough. I will conditionally accept this requirement for rest. but only if you can find a loophole that allows me to issue some vital commands and to contact Commander Agriel. ADIZ, this is a directive from the Fleet Admiral— and I don't want to hear anything about my not being on active duty yet. Search for that loophole! Execute!"

"Acknowledged, Admiral. There is a precedent from 1,862 years in our past when a Fleet officer ordered an AIDD to circumvent...

"Skip the blinking technicalities, ADIZ! Can you do it?"

"Affirmative, Sir, if you so order."

"Shazz! Yes... I so order!"

Jazon glared over his shoulder, hoping to stifle the sounds of laughter escaping from Sabanda and Kyell. He was less successful with them than his words had been with the robot. "I don't see what's so funny," he muttered.

Sabanda placed her hand on his arm and gently squeezed. "Of course you don't, Admiral. But once this crisis is over, your 'non-standard' solution to circumvent that directive is likely to become a source of good humor throughout the Fleet."

"That's true, Jace," Kyle chortled, "At least... if you don't get court-martialed for corrupting ADIZ's programming!"

Jazon smiled sheepishly. "If it saves their butts, they wouldn't dare." He turned back to ADIZ and said, "Prepare to receive and transmit a Priority-One directive."

"Acknowledged, Sir. Ready."

"I hereby issue Priority-One directive MI/32X, limited over-ride of protective conflict programming, to you and to all AAIDs required to carry out any orders I give regarding preparation and use of offensive missile systems. Execute order on my authority, Code PA/32Z, voice recognition; mark; execute."

ADIZ responded immediately. "Code and authority confirmed. Responding." ADIZ opened and activated channels of secured access previously unavailable to him. "Order executed." Then he added, "And, Sir, thank you."

"Understood, ADIZ. We couldn't have the AAIDs getting locked in protective loops while preparing missiles to fire at the Wasp. Now, notify VSDI that three KTX's are to be prepared. Select launch sites that will offer launch windows that will allow missiles to reach the Wasp at one, two and three hours prior to its reaching unsafe proximity to Kepren. Also, have remote firing controls rigged at the Command Center."

"Responding." After only a short pause, he spoke again. "Sir, your orders have been transmitted, acknowledged and accepted. Implementation will begin immediately."

" Good work, ADIZ... and thank you."

Sabanda and Jazon exchanged guarded glances. The robots would now instantly obey orders to prepare the launch sites for firing but it was virtually impossible to force them to actually initiate a launch. No over-ride of that programming was available, even to a Fleet Admiral. If snuffing out thirty-five lives became the only solution to the crisis, Jazon would have to push the button himself. He might soon be forced to take that action.

Jazon verified that his companions were ready to leave the lab, then addressed ADIZ, "Now we will yield to regulations and retire to our rest quarters. Are we being quartered close by, and is a carrier ready?"

"Yes, Admiral. The ride is not long."

"Very well. Let's get going."

They quickly boarded the transport and seated themselves. When it began to move, Kyell began drumming his fingers rhythmically on his armrest. Sabanda watched for a moment then said, "Out with it, Trandic."

"Huh? What are you asking. Out with what?"

"Whatever it is that's driving you crazy," she retorted. "I've seen that scowl before... and the finger drumming... and the quiet withdrawal. I know you all too well, Commodore. So spit it out. What are you beating yourself up over?"

Kyell slowly shook his head. "Aw, I was just wishin' I'd made contact with ADIZ instead of shootin' at his ship," he lamented. "If it hadn't been for me, we could've been here two days ago."

"Your feelings are understandable, Kyell. In fact, I could easily regret succumbing to Jazon's considerable charms in the grove the next night.  That little escapade delayed ADIZ another full day." She sighed. "Kyell, if you had known, of course you would have responded differently. But we were masked then, and we had no way of knowing." She reached across and touched his knee. "Kyell, what 'could have happened' or what 'we might have done' is idle speculation and wasteful recrimination. You are too good for that, and our time is too precious to waste on it."

"Thanks, Sabanda," Kyell answered quietly. "I know you're right. Still..."

The carrier reached its destination. Sabanda and Kyell started to move off to examine their quarters, but stopped when Jazon snapped his fingers and asked ADIZ, "Is the loophole still in effect?"

"If you so order."

Kyell started chuckling and Jazon grinned impishly. "I so order. So, ADIZ, how long will it take to get connected to the Wasp... specifically to communicate with Commander Agriel?".

"Responding...one moment, please. Commander Agriel requests permission to complete a staff meeting and meet with you in five minutes. Will this be satisfactory?"

Jazon winked at Kyell, "Sure beats the heck out of eight hours! Ask Agriel to contact us as soon as he's ready."

"Acknowledged and accepted, Sir."

During the wait, the group entered their quarters, then convened in the shared living room that was equipped with computers and com equipment. Jazon chafed at the realization that their quarters had no HoloPsychic Integrator— commonly called "The Educator." It was a miracle of technology that could have fully updated him on the entire crisis in mere minutes. ADIZ had reported that, during their three year absence, there had been two disappearances: the lone vanishing of Chad and one full SD. The SD was nearly thirteen months earlier, when the Aicycleis system had vanished. Jazon immediately incorporated the new data into his existing information: Of the total of eleven vanished systems, four had been settled and heavily populated. Two others had small personnel contingents. The remaining five had been completely evacuated prior to their disappearance.

What is the pattern? Is there a pattern? I need to use the Educator and also see the lab's "time compressed" visuals to get a handle on these events. But that can't happen until we resolve the crisis with the Wasp...one way or the other.

The com buzzed and he expected it to be Vick Agriel. Instead, ADIZ informed him that final trajectory coordinates had been established. Ground zero for the Wasp's was impact would be virtually on top of the Mathlen Command Center. Even if the planet was not entirely devastated, Ganlon and the entire Mathlen complex would be destroyed. Since Mathlen was the nerve center that controlled all the sanctuary worlds, it meant that literally billions of people— including Jazon's own children— might never get the chance to reawaken.

What are the alternatives? There must be other options! Could an automated reconnaissance ship ram the Wasp with enough impact to deflect its trajectory away from Kepren... or could several missiles be exploded to one side of the Wasp, deflecting it far enough but not destroying it.? Probably not. Two days ago, possibly, but not now. Every computer simulation argues against any successful course other than destroying the Wasp. But what of the people on board?

He had reviewed the personnel file and recognized several crew members he had known. Had known? The hair on the back of his neck tingled as he realized he was starting to think of them in the past tense.

Can I push the button?

Will I have any choice?

A movement at the fringe of Jazon's peripheral vision signaled ADIZ's return to their quarters.

"Sir, Commander Agriel will appear on the viewer shortly."

Despite the gravity of their situation, Jazon found himself amused by something he hadn't noticed before. "Shortly, ADIZ? I didn't know you could generalize."

The robot somehow managed to sound contrite. "My apologies, Sir! I should have said 1.73 minutes. If you remember, some limited ability to generalize was added to my programming at the time of your masking. It was thought that it might assist in making you more comfortable during any contacts we might have prior to your mask removal. In addition, my extended time of being powered down at Sanctuary-1 allowed me to review the records of all my interactions with you. I gave special emphasis on your more... unorthodox handling of situations.

"I then assigned additional weight to how those memories would factor in to my programming decisions. My intent was to enhance my utility by being able to more closely approximate your thought processes. However, now that your masks are removed, perhaps I should have...."

"No, no," Jazon interrupted hurriedly. "Your first report was sufficient in this case. Generalization is appropriate under many circumstances. In fact, generalizations are sometimes the only rational responses."

Kyell, who had been reviewing the new data on the Wasp's trajectory, grinned crookedly as he spoke up. "A-to-Z," he said, looking the AIDD up and down in an appraising manner, "It seems to me you've put on weight since we last saw you. You been sippin' that high grade oil again?"

Jazon and Sabanda hid their smiles.

The robot replied seriously, "Not to my knowledge, Sir. My lubricant depletion rate is nominal and there have been no significant changes in my component parts. Of course, it is possible that when one of my servo units was repaired, the replacement had somewhat more mass than the defective part. Still, that unit is internal and would not show. Or...are you making what is called...a joke? I recognize that you called me 'A-to-Z' when you are perfectly aware that protocol requires 'A-D-I-Z'."

"No, no," Kyell continued smoothly. "It's just that you, well, seem larger around the middle." He hid a smile.

ADIZ pondered this last sally for a moment, but concluded it required no reply.

Kyell snorted, "I'm a little disappointed; I was hoping he would come up with some response. I guess he's still not versatile enough to start calling him 'A-to-Z'."

After a brief pause, Commander Agriel's dark but smiling face appeared on the screen. "Ozier, you slimy ole' space-slug! It's good to see your rotten carcass even over this contraption. We desperately need your help, Admiral, so I hope your restoration didn't push your brains out over the ledge."

Rather than being offended, Jazon was concerned by the casual manner of Agriel's speech; he knew it was not the Commander's normal way. It revealed that the man was being severely affected by the extreme tension he was under, so he decided to respond just as informally. "You can drop the 'out-back' Sythian slang, Agriel. Your purple lady friends probably eat it up, but this is Jazon you're talking to now! I can't seem to let you out of my sight without your getting yourself into some kind of jam."

Agriel grinned, but it was forced. "I'll bet you never had the misfortune of a whole planet vanishing out from under you, either. Some guys have all the luck!" His smile faded. "Sir, have the trusty machines given you a complete up-to-the-minute report?" His voice carried more than a faint hint of desire to hear some good news.

"In almost no time at all they've stuffed me with more verbal and visual info than I could digest in half a day. You've really picked one doozey of a challenge this time."

"Yeah, I know," Agriel replied dejectedly. With his facade down, his fear and fatigue were breaking through. He rubbed his stubbly burgundy beard, and Jazon figured the man hadn't shaved for days.

"Do you have enough food and water?" Jazon knew the answer, but wanted to introduce a more upbeat tone.

"Yes, absolutely no danger of starving or going thirsty. In fact, we could go skinny-dipping if we could just find the time! We really were fortunate that the stores weren't walled off when this accursed thing happened. Come to think of it, I guess things could be a lot worse. Thanks for reminding me, Admiral." After a short pause, he continued, quite seriously. "Sir, there's something you probably have already figured out, but I need to be sure."

Jazon's grin faded as Agriel continued. "I know that either you or I might have to launch the missiles. If it comes to that we'll do our duty... but if there's... any alternative... any way you can get us out of this mess..."

Jazon, hating himself for the half-truth he knew they would both recognize, said, "Count on it, Commander! We're going to get you off somehow."

Agriel grunted. "I believe you, Admiral...but could you promise we'll all still be in one piece?"

"Vick, we'll do our best."

Something behind Agriel and out of Jazon's view caused Vick to turn and listen for a few seconds, then return his attention to Jazon. "Sir, we've got some new information coming in right now and I'm needed."

"Understood. Right now, we have to honor the recuperation cycle and try to get some rest. When we get to Mathlen and set up camp, I'll call you again." He signed off and turned to ADIZ. "Have three Educators and full support materials delivered to these quarters as soon as possible."

ADIZ acknowledged and Jazon, Kyell and Sabanda tried to slow their adrenaline enough to get at least some sleep.

It was going to be an uphill battle.

#

# CHAPTER 23: Coalition

First Science Officer Laytonn entered the private office of Ptoriil Briin and placed her report on his broad desk. The expansive, elegantly appointed room was empty of people. She let out a sigh of relief mixed with exhaustion and seated herself in a pentaform in the informal study area off to one side of Briin's desk. She activated the music system, allowed herself to luxuriate in the contoured comfort of the deep auto-conforming cushions, and gave herself leave to take a much needed one-minute vacation.

Little more than a minute later, the sound of Lord Ptoriil's calm but firm voice issuing last-second instructions to his aide brought Eebri back from her mini-vacation, back to the office. Before Briin could sweep briskly into the room, she had re-composed both mind and body into a semblance of efficient alertness. But as she stood at attention in front of the desk where he moved to seat himself, a surprisingly undisciplined thought infiltrated her mind:  Look at him...What a hunk of a man!

For half a second, Briin thought he saw something flash across her lips. Then it was gone, leaving only the glow of its passing. He allowed himself a quick glance to devour the sight, then relaxed his eyes back to a casual warmth as he motioned and spoke easily, "Sit...please Eebri, forget the formalities. We both have too much on our plates to stand on ceremony, and no one is here to see us drop our rigid diplomatic masks."

She nodded, re-seated herself gracefully in a military "at ease" posture in an upholstered chair, and flashed a weary but disarming smile. "Thank you, Lord Ptoriil. I must admit that rigorously maintaining a constant diplomatic demeanor can be exhausting."

"I thought we were on a personal name basis, Eebri. Do I have to call you 'Brie' to get you to be more casual?"

She actually blushed at the thought of such intimacy, her talc-white skin glowing to a pale pink. "Sorry, Briin...it's just hard for me to let my hair down."

Oh, that you would! he wished.  To see that scarlet mane falling softly to your shoulders...  However, only a wistful twinkle hinted at his thought. Re-gathering his professional wits, he spoke. "The MAC session is at 1600 Hours, so we had better finalize our strategy."

"Briin, I've given that a lot of thought. I know you prefer to face them down, but I'm convinced this is one meeting you should conveniently become 'too busy' to attend. 'Affairs of State', you know, or something equally unchallengeable."

He began to shake his head in the negative, and opened his mouth to speak.

She hurriedly cut him off, dripping sarcasm, "Oh, yes, Your Grace! I know you are indispensable; of course, noble Lord Regent of the House Ptoriil! As you wish, my mighty Chief of State. Certainly, your Eminence...But sliss and pizzle, Ptoriil, you're making a serious mistake if you think your regal presence at this meeting is truly necessary...or even wise!"

Briin's head had stopped swiveling, his face had begun to flush, and his jaw dropped slightly at her incredible temerity and her unprecedented breach of protocol— not to mention her unsavory language. Then he regained his composure and relaxed, remembering he had directed her to drop the diplomatic routine. And it's Eebri, you pompous fool! Lighten up and listen to her.  He recomposed himself and nodded graciously, saying simply, "Continue."

"You don't need to subject yourself to their ridiculous attacks, which will be even more vehement and verbose if you're there. It's not actually the issues that are important to them; they just want to seize this opportunity to remind you how easily they can challenge your power.

"The 'honorable' Lords Cjorll and Vstoch may be members of the Committee by right of Regency in their own Houses, but they can't support statements of significant substance. They're incapable of it...why, they couldn't raise a single argument with any more weight than a child's hair ribbon! They're still just sniveling, slithering serpents pompously posturing for prestige and power!"

Briin— with an exaggerated pretense of shock at her words, followed by his infectious rumbling laugh— mollified her somewhat. Privately he was filing away a vital bit of information, What a wondrous way with words this woman has...don't ever allow yourself get drawn into a Verbal Duel with her!

Reining in his laughter, he addressed her latest tirade. "Really, Eebri, aren't you being a tad harsh on those boys? Neither of them has been on the Committee for a full year yet. They're young and still feeling their way. And, Eebri, I'm so glad we're behind closed doors...such acidic vitriol coming from such a lovely mouth!"

A modestly contrite smile formed on those full, pink lips. She responded, less stridently. "Briin, please, for the sake of the rest of us, if not for yourself...they'll do nothing but waste our time with their putrid pontifications, and we'll have to suffer twice as long through the fools' salacious slander and flaming folderol if you're there. We both have too many more important items pending on our calendars."

Postponing his decision, he replied, "Well, you're right about having more on our plates to deal with than we would like." He nodded toward his desk top and her comprehensive report about the most recent appearance. "And this is one of them."

"Yes, that's one, and it's a baffler. But, Briin, don't think you can sidetrack me. That reminds me...I need you to fill me in on the deep background of the Eidolon incident. All I've seen is the official fluff, and I can't afford to be caught short on knowledge and long on ignorance going into that MAC meeting— especially if they are going to try to make a mockery of it."

He pretended to scan the report while in deep thought, then locked his stare to hers. "Eebri, your political senses are as sharp as ever; I yield to your insight and wisdom. You may carry word to the Committee that a "matter of state diplomacy" has arisen to detain me. Actually, that describes the situation truthfully, if not fully. As far as Eidolon is concerned, you're right; you shouldn't walk into that meeting unprepared, and I wouldn't want you to. I'm sorry I haven't been able to share the full redacted info with you yet."

"No apologies necessary," she smiled. "We've both been inundated. Actually, my involvement with this new planetary appearance has prevented a full debriefing. In fact, before you fill me in on Eidolon, let me update you on Chaattel Menkondra. "We've completely confirmed everything I briefed you on at Iisleen. No threat to any nav-lanes. No systems threatened by its path— at least not for several thousand years. Definitely no loss of life. Other than machine intelligences, the planet clearly had been completely evacuated quite some time prior to its capture. Briin, your opponents have nothing there to capitalize on...at least, not to any meaningful extent."

"Thank you, FSO Laytonn," Briin responded with a twinkle in his eye. "Your Science Agency appears to have done its usual fine job." She nodded her acceptance of the compliment. "In fact, Eebri, I'm looking forward to getting your read on the full details of what really happened on Eidolon."

She quickly accessed her link, then said, "Before we start with that, Briin, may I suggest a short break? I've received a couple of messages from Uunokeener about a tech decision. I need to handle that... and I'm sure you can use the time productively. Could we reconvene in twenty to thirty minutes?"

"Of course, Eebri. Make it thirty and we'll begin then."

# CHAPTER 24: Alliance

After a long period simply pacing back and forth, Jazon had finally stretched out on the lounger. He was trying to look comfortable.

Sabanda was not fooled. "Jace," she said gently, "we're supposed to be relaxing, but your hands are clenched and I can almost hear your mind spinning!"

He sighed, then growled, "I never could fool you!" He sat up— no longer pretending— grimaced, and planted his feet loudly on the floor and began to pace. "But there's so much to think about... so much to get updated on. Sabanda, there's so much we need to DO!"

She nodded. "Of course there is, Jazon," she agreed calmly. "And we will get it done. Just not this moment."

He scowled. "But this enforced idleness is totally unnecessary!"

"Is it? Really?" she replied. "Think about this: We've all been subjected to such an avalanche of crisis information and restored responsibilities that it has severely stressed us... as your over-the-edge level of tension proves. The fact is, it's a wonder we're all not incapacitated from the shock." Seeing his affirming nod, she smiled and continued. "Instead of ranting about this brief delay, we should be giving thanks that ADIZ did such an expert job of parceling out that pre-conditioning information before our masks were removed, and that all three of our mask-removal protocols went perfectly. Otherwise, we might already have become casualties to the plight of the Wasp." Her soothing voice purred. "Let's focus on how fortunate we are..."

Jazon moved back to the lounger, stretched out in a way that looked much closer to true relaxation, and admitted, "You're right... as usual. Thanks." He patted the wide cushions. "Come on over here."

She complied and lay down beside him, her head on his shoulder. He curled his arm around her. "That's much better," he murmured in her ear. "Maybe we do need to take a bit of a break... and find a way to release some of that nasty stored tension you mentioned."

Now it was Sabanda's turn to be less than relaxed. "Jazon... uh... this is supposed to be a rest period, and you..."

He gently touched a finger to her lips. "But, Sam, only a minute ago you were urging me to relax, and now..."

She tilted her head and gave him the briefest of smiles. "Well. yes, but..."

"No 'buts,' sweetie. The blasted rules insist that we get some Rest and Recuperation. So let's do some recuperating..." He winked slowly. "Together!"

Sabanda sat up quickly and said, "Hey, "Rest and Recuperation" just reminded me of that time we took a break for R&R at that lake up in the hills. It's really near her — just outside of Ganlon. Do you remember its name?

He smiled. "Sure. Lake Coranzer! That was a great R & R. We stayed at that rustic cabin in that pine valley by the lake. Remember, it was late spring and there were flowers blooming in all the alpine meadows — and there was wildlife playing and prancing around everywhere..."

"Yes, that's it! I can still picture all those beautiful wildflowers growing everywhere, covering the foothills... even climbing up into every valley.. And I'll never forget the sight of those flowers stretching high up the mountainsides, spreading brilliant little dots of color all around the trunks of those stately pines, below the snow-covered peaks. Yes, that was wonderful— one of our most a pleasant R&R breaks ever, and a real relief from the burden of command." Sabanda looked wistful. "You know, Jazon, sometimes I almost...almost wish we could make that sort of getaway permanent. Still..."

He interrupted. "Sam, you've made me remember something I don't think I ever told you about! Something that happened during that all too brief vacation at Lake Coranzer. Want to hear about it?"

"Well, maybe..." She grinned mischievously, "if there's not another woman involved!"

He ignored her teasing and continued. "As I remember, you had stretched out on the bed only moments after we had arrived that first day and immediately drifted off to sleep. That really squelched the plans I had for that bed... kind'a like now."

She jabbed her elbow into his ribs. "That's what you remember?" She laughed, "There had better be more than that to your story!"

" OK! There is," he laughed. "And I'll tell it if you'll just stop poking me!"

"So since it was already late evening, I decided to take a walk. You may recall, since it happens so rarely, all three of Kepren's moons were high in the sky that night. So it was really bight, and the tide had raised the lake's water level almost to the top of the marina's retaining wall. As I strolled past the wall and toward the lakefront, I spied a cyleen. Are you familiar with them?

"Vaguely... maybe only heard of them."

"Not surprising, since they're almost never seen. They're remarkably agile and graceful, and they look... well, very similar to the deer on Earth. But cyleen are truly rare and even more skittish. Yet this cyleen just stood there, watching me.

"I walked slowly toward it, thinking every second it would bolt and run... but it didn't. I walked right up to it and hesitantly put out my hand to stroke its neck. Instead of shying away, it bowed its head and gently rubbed my arm. Somehow, that simple touch reduced the burden I carried."

"It's hard to explain, but the experience was amazing... And by telling you now, I can almost feel that calming touch again... as if that cyleen helped me both then and now. And it did... I mean... it does."

"And, Sam, I'm sorry I never told you before."

She shook her head. "Oh, no, Jazon. I'm just grateful you told me now, when I truly needed it. It's brought some peace to both of us."

After a few moments of shared silence, Jazon smiled warmly. "OK— so that's my story! So, what are your recollections of our visit there?"

"Well, I also remember arriving awfully tired and I remember taking a long nap. But it seems to me that however long I slept, your earlier debauched intentions had gotten satisfied before I was allowed to nap."

"Ouch. Satisfied?"

"You Better say satisfied unless you want to gargle your words for the rest of your life!"

He responded dutifully, "Yes, dear. Very satisfied."

Sabanda smiled triumphantly. " Of course, dear, it was my pleasure, too."

"Now, Jazon, as far as what else was especially memorable on that trip? It was our midnight cruise on the lake. I remember how the three moons gave deliciously ample light for our excursion, reflecting off both the mountain peaks and mirroring the water around us. But— even more— I remember how we later strolled together by the water's edge since, listening to the gentle breeze as it whispered its wordless sound through the leaves of the trees."

"I remember." he replied wistfully. "And that we both agreed how peaceful that sound is."

Her brow furrowed briefly, then her eyes brightened.

"What is it, Sabanda?" he asked.

She smiled mysteriously. "I have an idea."

* * *

Kyell Trandic, solemnly reflecting on his newly remembered role and sudden responsibilities as a Commodore of the Kepren Alliance, shifted restlessly on his room's reclining couch. "No position on this couch is going to be comfortable," he groused out loud, "since any position is uncomfortable when my mind is in such turmoil!" He knew for certain that the enforced rest period irked Jazon just as much as it did him. And—I suspect— Sabanda is probably equally vexed, too. But, unlike us, she will find a way to remain pleasant. Plus, it probably won't take her long to regain her usual serenity.

"I wish I could do that," he muttered angrily.

His mind skittered from one direction to another — constantly returning to worries about how destructive Kepren's final collision with the Wasp could be, especially to Ganlon. With the thought the peril to that city far above him, an image of its rare beauty came to mind, and he almost smiled.

Ganlon! Situated less than two degrees below Kepren's equator, in an alpine plateau at an elevation of over 7000 feet— with even higher mountains completely surrounding the plateau—Ganlon experienced only two delightfully moderate seasons year-round: an extended spring, followed by a colorful autumn. And the city was unlike any of the invariably crowded metropolises Kyell had visited all across the cluster. Ganlon's designers had assured that its more than a million inhabitants— at least when it was populated, he glumly thought— lived exceptionally well, enjoying massive open spaces and unparalleled vistas. By building comfortable living areas in graceful, towering structures which were placed only along a wide ring well outside the central hub— rather than being crowded close together inside it— Ganlon's planners had created a cityscape unlike any other. The resulting circular central hub was several miles across, containing only a minimal number of low-rise buildings, dominated by lushly green park-like areas, occasionally interlaced by boulevards artfully shaded by towering trees. One of Kyell's favorite features was the gently splashing stream that meandered throughout the area.

Acres of lake-dotted parklands surrounded the hub's architectural centerpiece, the Kepren Roster of Planets building, located at the heart of the hub. The majestic edifice had been constructed from a type of stone specially transported across the Cluster from a distant mining colony on one of Maljier's moons. The stone had been chosen because if its unique qualities: its outer surfaces changed color with slight temperature variations, and it was nearly transparent when viewed from the opposite surface's side. This meant that — while visitors outside this building saw an shimmering opaque surface that displayed gradually changing colors— those inside the building were rewarded with a mildly muted view of the natural surroundings outside the building.

The Roster of Planets building also hid features the average citizen was neither aware of nor privy to: concealed entrances to the system of underground corridors and lifts descending to the Mathlen Science Center's location far below Ganlon's surface.

As the thought of the Center came to mind, Kyell once again— and not for the first time— thought about the comparison between his challenging current reality, versus his comparatively ideal existence on far away Earth. There his main worries had been what effect the weather might have on his farm's crops, and the care and feeding of his two dogs, Patch and Ranger.

That thought reminded him about how his dogs had been given their names— by their former owner, George Sanders. Patch got his name after an accident injured one of his eyes, requiring a patch over that eye for a short time. His other dog, Ranger, had perpetually left home to "range all over" the countryside, forever looking for something that forever remained undefined.

Those recollections brought a smile to his lips. The gentle chime of the visitor-alert— followed immediately by a loud knocking on the door— interrupted his thoughts. Then came a laughing shout: "Hey Kyell, wake up! It's time for your nap!"

Now wearing a broad smile, he shouted his reply as he hurried to the door, "Sabanda, if you got Jazon to take a nap with everything that's facing us, I salute you." He flung open the door and was greeted by the childishly grinning faces of his two best friends.

"Get a move on, soldier," laughed Jazon. "We're escaping!"

"Fine by me!" Kyell responded, closing the door behind him. "Where we going?"

Sabanda answered, "We're going to get some real R&R! Doctor Sabanda has prescribed a relaxing two hour vacation for the three of us. We're going for an outing — complete with a picnic, plus one of Kepren's finest wines— up top, in Ganlon's central hub. Remember how beautiful and peaceful it is up there?"

""I was just thinking about it!" Kyell replied enthusiastically. He took two quick steps toward the exit, glanced back over his shoulder and shouted, "So what are you waiting for? Let's bust out of this joint!"

# CHAPTER 25: Coalition

Briin and Eebri had reconvened in his office to continue their updates. "A full debriefing on Eidolon will take a while, Eebri, but it's worth the time. The whole incident is a bit complicated. So much so, in fact, that I found it a bit confusing at first. There were three vessels involved, each with its separate crews and landing parties. Although some questions remain unanswered in my own mind, I find it easier to separate the various crews into distinct parts of the mission and assign names to each.

"First, the command ship entered orbit around Eidolon. The first landing craft departed the command ship and landed on Eidolon's surface with a crew of four. They split into two parties of two each; I call the first party of two the 'exploratory' party, and the second party of two the 'rescue' party. When both the exploratory party and the rescue party failed to return, the command ship sent a second lander to Eidolon's surface to investigate. That group— the 'investigative party'— failed to find any of the four lost men and returned to the command ship.... Is that clear?"

"Affirmative. That's consistent with what I've already read."

"Good. Now we'll start from the beginning again. Then first lander followed the transmitter's signal and grounded near the only opening we've been able to find. Its crew's initial report confirmed that Eidolon's surface was artificial, just as the cadet's report had described.

"The two-man 'exploratory party' was dispatched from that lander. They reported that the deeper part of the opening simply looked like any long tunnel we might have constructed...except that it went straight down— vertically— from the surface. The party elected to attempt entry, using a winch and cable to let themselves down. Upon entering, they discovered that they were attracted strongly to one vertical wall, as though the pull of gravity had been rotated ninety degrees to the horizontal.

"They then reported that they were moving into the tunnel...and that was the last anyone heard from the exploratory party. Briin paused. "Still with me?"

"Affirmative. Exploratory party missing. Rescue party and investigative party yet to come. Right?"

"Exactly," he nodded. "After a long wait, the remaining two men in the first lander reported that they feared for their comrades' safety and wanted to mount a search for the first two. The commander in the orbiting ship gave permission to approach the opening to discover if they could see anyone or offer assistance. However, he specifically refused permission for them to enter the opening or attempt a rescue.

"Once at the opening, however, the two defied their orders. Taking along extra air and survival packs, they announced that they were going after the others. As with the first party, communications were lost as this rescue party entered. They never returned."

Eebri nodded. "Four men missing. Investigative party is next."

"Correct. The command ship ordered a second lander dispatched. It approached cautiously and landed. Its crew— the investigative party— waited for a full day beside the opening, but made no attempt to enter the tunnel. Finally, it became apparent that no one from the first two parties had sufficient life-support to return. The investigative party retrieved the transmitter for study, then returned to the orbiting command ship. However..." He had been turning over a small metallic object in his hands as he spoke; he held it up. "They found this. On its surface you'll notice both raised and indented shapes. Our best linguists think the complexity of its markings indicate that it's some type of 'Identification Plate,' but no one has been able to translate it."

He handed the rectangular object to her, stared at the floor, and said dejectedly, "Not much to show for the lives of four men, is it?"

She slowly shook her head in grudging agreement, then said softly, "Except for this object, the gravity effects, and the rescue party violating orders, that all corresponds to what I had heard. But the men who brought this 'I.D. Plate' back...what did they report about finding it?"

"It was lying just inside the opening. Looking in, they saw footprints of the first crew in the dust. They speculated that someone in either the exploratory party or the rescue party must have accidentally disturbed the plate. It was at the end of a long scuff mark, as though it might have been kicked, streaking the thick dust as it skidded across the surface. They probably would have missed it in the shadows, but they spotted a faint reflection coming from one edge of it.

"One man laid down at the opening's edge, reached in, picked it up, and brought it back for examination. As he reached for it, his hand was drawn toward the vertical wall— confirming the report of the earlier party. When he picked up the plate, some of the dust on it ran through his gloved fingers. Surprisingly, the dust didn't fall directly to the surface. Instead it drifted slightly, and slower than expected, as though there was some kind of wind resistance. From this he presumed that the opening had not only unusual gravity, but significant atmosphere as well."

Briin paused for several seconds, seemingly distracted. "Eebri, that's despite the wide opening from which— in the absence of any detectable force field— any atmosphere in that opening should have escaped long ago. I find that part hard to believe, but the part about a shifted gravity field is consistent with the exploratory party's findings."

She nodded and asked, "Anything else unusual about the dust?"

"Yeah, they brought back a sample of it. It didn't turn out to be true dust, at least not in the conventional sense. It seems that it's a powdery debris actually created by molecular disintegration, probably of the opening's walls. And the techs haven't been able to identify what it's made of. It's non-responsive to magnetic fields, and it's so fine that it feels oily to the touch. Since it's the result of molecular disintegration, the analysts believe it would take centuries just to create a handful of that dust. Yet the 'floor' of the shaft was covered with it! It seems the only logical conclusion is that Eidolon must be very old."

They both paused, each in deep thought. Then she prompted, "Is that it? Nothing else left out of the public reports?"

"Actually, there's even more to ponder. There was a mysterious set of footprints. The first group reported one set of unidentified prints that led up...uh...out of the opening. They stated that they looked just like the footprints the four men had made, but the prints' size didn't match any of theirs. They also said the prints looked clear and sharp, as though they had been made very recently. Of course, with no natural forces to alter them— and not really knowing how fast the dust builds up— the prints might have been made two weeks ago or a million years before."

She looked intrigued. "A single set of footprints coming out but none going in? That's not as simple to explain as one set going in but none coming out. Could someone have entered by another opening and then left by this exit?"

He shook his head. "We don't think so. In fact, Eebri, I've been wanting to ask you about that. Shouldn't an opening in a presumably metallic object offer a signature that's detectable from space?" Seeing her nod affirmatively, he continued, "We've had Eidolon under surveillance since it was first discovered, but found no evidence of any additional openings. Also, if the prints were made after Eidolon's discovery, our close surveillance surely would have spotted the arrival of the 'print-maker'. They had to have been made earlier! That's why the mystery is so confounding."

Both fell silent. Then, cautiously, she ventured an idea. "Could someone have walked backward going in...and then carefully have stepped in his own footprints coming out? If...if we knew how far the prints extend into the object, it would tell us how likely that is. A person gets very tired, walking backwards with that kind of precision, after only a short time." She paused briefly, but Briin offered no response. "Let me think on that one. What else, Briin?"

"Well, the transmitter that was found on the surface was brought back. It was thoroughly examined to see if it would give any clues about who built it."

"Did they find anything revealing?"

"Uh-huh. Much too revealing...and not nearly revealing enough. The transmitter is one of ours. No doubt about it. They even traced down its serial number to its last known location: a supply and storage facility right here on Caaljeron. Nothing else about it was unusual— completely standard equipment. In fact, it's been returned to the supply depot."

Eebri frowned. "That makes no sense...but then a lot of this is awfully mysterious. I see why they named this thing Eidolon. Any more surprises?"

He flashed a crooked, nonchalant grin. "Yeah...one minor thing. We had to leave the first of the two landers there; the remaining crew was insufficient to bring back both of them."

She rolled her eyes and smirked. Finally she laughed, "You and I both know they could have retrieved it. They left that lander there on purpose, on the off chance...or hope...that the first crew would return and need it! And what's more, Lord Ptoriil, I suspect you approved the decision."

Briin responded self-consciously. "Well... not until after the fact. When that original action was taken, I was sleeping and Malaar insisted I not be bothered about what he was told was a 'field decision.' By the time they finally reached me, the decision had been made...but, Eebri, I will admit I approved and whole-heartedly supported their decision."

"Good for you!" She smiled and admitted, "I would have done the same thing."

She was more worried for him than she would say. He might be best remembered as the leader who, while occupying the Coalition's highest office, had lost four men. Their civilization's last war was more than two thousand years in their past. And with the extreme caution and multiple redundancies developed over the millennia, any loss of life to accident or malice had become extremely rare. Any further loss of life to this mysterious Eidolon was unthinkable. Still, she knew what she had to ask.

"Will you send others back to investigate it?"

He looked vexed. "I have no choice. It's close enough to Coalition space to pose a potential threat. We have to consider that possibility, even though it has done exactly nothing but exist since the day it was discovered. Half my advisors say 'Yes', half 'No'. But as long as I still have the authority, we are going to learn all we can about it. We don't even know if the four men met with foul play, or simply made fatal errors.

"That reminds me of something I have failed to mention. There were two other odd things about that entrance." He cast an appraising eye. "Just how much do you know about engineering?"

She favored him with half a smile. "Like any good Science Officer, quite a bit...but perhaps not in the area I suspect you are about to consider."

"In a porseen's posterior!" he rumbled. "You're the most knowledgeable Science Officer I've ever seen. Still, at the risk of making a needlessly elaborate explanation, consider this: the entrance, outside surface and visible interior of Eidolon are monolithic; there are no construction seams. At least none we could find. It also has a very high density— almost eight times what we would expect for a artificial construct of its size."

Eebri raised an eyebrow. Then she smiled expectantly. "And...?"

He shook his head, sure she had already jumped ahead of him. "And the second oddity is what must be an invisible barrier across the entrance. As you know, our own such fields are maintained only at the cost of a huge energy expenditure. Yet we have detected no energy signature. Also, when a person passes through one of our fields, there's a noticeable tingle that identifies the force field's barrier plane. Yet, when the crewmember on Eidolon reached in for the plate, he noted that there was no discernable field presence. We're left to wonder just how it's accomplished. Obviously, something must separate the vacuum of space from the atmosphere inside.

"And the other thing, Eebri. Even I know that seamless construction implies that the entire object was cast in a single piece. Of course, our technology is capable of constructing something just as large...larger for that matter. But as a single piece?"

She shook her head. "Maybe in a few hundred years, but not now."

Briin nodded emphatically. "That's another reason for a follow-up expedition. What if that tunnel continues right to the center of the object, without a single seam? That would imply the presence— inside of Coalition space— of a technology advanced far beyond our imagination. It's imperative that we find out what we're up against."

"You're right about that," she agreed, " so I'll make it a priority. If Chattel's appearance hadn't kept me so busy that we had to postpone this briefing, you would already have had my strong recommendation that we must return to Eidolon for further action."

He shifted uneasily. "Don't be so sure about that. The half of the staff that favors a return mission also favors trying to blow Eidolon out of space...or move it clear into another universe." His face twisted in disgust at the thought.

Biting off every word, Eebri said, "They just want to make it somebody else's problem!" She shuddered with revulsion. "And forget about the lost men? Those craven cowards can't do that! I won't let them! Just wait until..."

He waved her to a stop. "Get your feathers down, Eebri. I've already told them where they can stuff that idea. I'll give their recommendations consideration only if we can get the men back." He paused, seeing her harsh glare. "And we would have to find a universe that is either uninhabited or uninhabitable."

Her eyes softened somewhat, but Briin wondered privately if anyone could be certain about either proposition. He frowned and relegated the thought to consideration at a later time.

"There's one thing I have to mention, Briin," she said firmly. " I have a strong sense that we also have to protect Eidolon for some other reason. I can't explain it, but I feel it's going to play a very important role in... in something we don't fully understand."

He nodded briskly, "I'll keep that in mind. And with that, Officer Laytonn, I think you have all the missing pieces. You now have the whole story surrounding this mystery. So, as promised, I'll make myself scarce for the MAC meeting. I'll ask Lord Luuseema to chair the meeting in my absence. At least he's neutral, so the rest will accept him. But you still have to keep some things about Eidolon secret for now. Nothing is to be said about the strange gravity effects. Same goes for the possibilities of atmosphere and extreme age. Don't make a big deal about the 'I.D. Plate' they found, and keep away from as much of the strange engineering aspects as you can.

"Oh, one more thing. For now, say nothing about those mysterious footprints."

Groaning at the imposed limitations, she snorted, "Gee... thanks a lot! Can I at least tell them how dense Eidolon is?"

He laughed, "Sure. Considering how dense as my opposition is, they probably won't pick up on it. But, Eebri, please report on the meeting results to me personally.

Meet me here at 2175?"

She frowned, "The fanatical opposition is bound to be so long-winded that the meeting is sure to run long. Then I have some things I must finish. Meet me at the Tunnel Rats Pub at 2425 Hours. OK, Briinie?"

Briin smiled impishly. "As you wish...Brie. I serve at your pleasure."

Blushing profoundly, Eebri made a speedy exit.

# CHAPTER 26: Alliance

The unmasked trio had returned from their R&R outing. They had used their Educator units to become fully updated. Their imposed R&R period had finally passed, and they had been released to go to Mathlen Command Center. Those facts had not relieved Jazon's desire to reach the Center. They only increased it. He followed impatiently as ADIZ led the party to the final high-speed lift that would take them directly into the Control Center, deep underground. Jazon's intuition flashed warningly as they entered the lift, and his need for any new information was unrelieved by ADIZ's assurances that they would arrive shortly. As a result, the moment they exited the lift, Jazon wasted no time on preamble.

"Update!" he barked at VSDI.

"Sir, we received an urgent message from Commander Agriel while you were in transit. He advises that an unknown vessel has appeared off his right forward quadrant. Sir, he also indicated the vessel was quite large; more specifically, 'unbelievably colossal' were his actual words."

Striding rapidly toward the command center, Jazon tossed back, "Did he actually use the word 'appeared' or did he say they 'discovered its approach'?"

"The word was 'appeared', Sir. He was quite adamant. He personally became aware of it shortly after the collision alarm sounded. Lieutenant Shallen, however, was at a view port and saw it arrive. He reported that one instant it wasn't there and the next instant it 'simply appeared.' The Wasp's telemetry readings confirm his report.

"Sir, the path of this 'colossus' is being displayed on the tracking board. Both the rescue shuttles and recon beacons near the Wasp are actively monitoring. The intruder is making no attempt to jam our surveillance."

The group raced forward, entered Command Center Control, and studied the primary track plotting screen. It was ablaze with lights indicating the positions and paths of all objects occupying nearby space.

Without taking his eyes from the traces marking the paths of both the Wasp and the unknown ship, Jazon said, "VSDI, get Commander Agriel on the com-screen. And display any available visual recon of this mystery ship on the main screen."

Kyell's eyes shifted to the video display. When the images appeared he immediately blurted out, "Look at the size of that thing! Kretch! It makes the Wasp look like a minnow!"

Sabanda echoed Kyell's amazement. "Even at five miles wide, the Wasp really does look no bigger than a minnow compared to that... that thing. that's chasing it. It looks like... like a three-legged giant octopus with huge clubs for feet. If that thing attacks..."

"Belay the speculation!" snapped Jazon as the com-screen displayed Agriel's frantic visage.

"It's huge!" Vick's shrill tone revealed that he was near his breaking point. "Huge doesn't even begin to describe...Admiral, have you seen the visuals? "

"Commander, we need a report." Jazon interjected calmly. "Take your time. We need a coherent account. Start at the point at which this other ship approached."

Agriel shrilled, "But it didn't..."

Jazon cut in and barked, "Calm down, Commander!" Then, hoping a different tone would help steady Vick, Jazon calmed his tone. " We need a factual report, Vick. Take a breath, and just report the facts."

Still far from calm, Vick regained a semblance of discipline and control. "Yes, Sir! Sorry, Admiral, but... uh... it didn't approach... it just appeared! One moment empty space. The next, right here in our laps! And... and, Sir, it's so huge that it seemed it was on top of us and just about to hit us, when it actually was still a long way off." Agriel paused, a puzzled look on his face, and looked squarely at Jazon. "Sir, I assure you I'm not completely crazy. Admiral, you may have spent a lot of time in space— more than any of us— but even you would be in shock! One second we're out here all alone, and the next every proximity alarm in the Wasp goes fedjecken berserk! I'm trying to tell you calmly and carefully...That Colossus just APPEARED!" Vick's eyes flashed quickly left and right, like a trapped animal. It was clear he was again losing control.

Sabanda caught Jazon's attention with a subtle— but well practiced— signal, and Jazon responded with an almost imperceptible nod and a flick of his eyes.

Sabanda's voice bathed the room. "I hear you, Vick, loud and clear. Now, we can move away from any concern about past events and we will begin to focus on where we are now... on our current situation." Her tone was authoritative, yet remarkably soothing, encouraging calm rationality and engendering focused thought. "I'm sure we can do that together... calmly and precisely, as we have been trained to do... right Commander Agriel?"

Most of the wildness left Agriel's eyes. "Yes... I .. Yes, Vice-Admiral, we can," he responded much less stridently.

"Very good, Commander. Thank you. Now, I would appreciate your report on the current status."

The tightness in Vick's body visibly eased. "Certainly, Vice-Admiral."

Jazon suppressed a smile, again appreciating Sabanda's remarkable talent.

Agriel continued, almost smoothly. "The colossus is currently on a steady parallel course to the Wasp's, and it exhibits a slow rotation relative to our position. It has given no indication of hostile intent. And, Vice-Admiral, our crew— other than being scared silly— is unharmed. We..."

Agriel was interrupted by Kyell's rumbled warning, "Status changing! Check its path...that thing's closing in on the Wasp!"

Silence engulfed the room as all eyes moved to the tracking board. Then the silence was pierced by the renewed shriek of proximity alarms. Obviously, the Wasp could not retreat, since it could do nothing to alter its course. Nor was it even remotely capable of repelling such a massive object's approach. No one breathed as the colossus slowly closed the gap between them. Slowly, one gigantic cylindrical "leg" and "foot" rotated to aim directly at the Wasp.

With more composure than he felt, Agriel issued the only possible order to his crew, "Attention all hands! Secure for impact."

Hoping against hope for a miracle, Jazon watched grimly. Sabanda, head bowed, touched the fingers of her hands to her nose. Everyone waited silently, eyes locked on the visual display screen, helpless to prevent the impending disaster.

Kyell glanced back at the tracking display and whispered, "Wait... " A moment later he called out more loudly, "Hey, look at the vector numbers— they're changing. Rate of closure is slowing...even more..." Then, clearly relieved, "I don't think they intend to ram it after all."

When the board showed the closure rate had dropped to zero, the alarms silenced and the sounds of a cheering crew issued from the Wasp. This was followed immediately by Commander Agriel's stern command, "All hands! Remain secure and stay alert. Watch for..."

Before he could complete the directive, the image of the Wasp in the view screens appeared to jerk sharply. A quaking vibration sounded, and the visual feed on the screen refused to hold steady. After the initial sharp reaction and shaking, the vibration muted to a steady thrumming for interminable seconds. Then, as suddenly as they had started, the vibration completely stopped.

All but one set of eyes had remained locked on the visuals. As a result, it was Kyell's voice that broke the stunned silence. "Admiral Ozier, please confirm what I think I've been seeing change on the plotting board...specifically, the Wasp's path."

Jazon's eyes snapped to the board and fixed wonderingly on the line which represented the path of the Wasp. Impossibly, it had acquired a noticeable bend. That gradual curve represented a shift of direction of a vessel five miles in diameter, massing almost half a trillion tons. The fact that the bend in that line was visually perceptible indicated the extreme magnitude of the force that had been exerted.

Everyone saw the altered trajectory, but before they could react, the com-lines erupted in a sense-scrambling cacophony of simultaneous, overlapping reports:...

"Telemetry reports that the Wasp's trajectory..."

"Communication reports receipt of a signal from..."

"Sensors indicate that compartment doors..."

"Satellite spin-analysis reveals that..."

"Damage sensors indicate Wasp has sustained..."

Only ADIZ— with his robotic sensors— was able to hear, sort, and make sense of the resulting jumble of sounds echoing through the Command Center. Then Kyell's startled roar smashed through, piercing that chaotic web of intelligibility.

Everyone clearly heard his shout:

"What The...? IT'S GONE!"

# CHAPTER 27: Coalition

In the murky warren of the Tunnel Rats Pub, in a shadowed corner well removed from the bustle and confusion emanating from the well-inebriated cast of raucous regulars, sat— private and secure— two high-born and note-worthy personages, V.I.P.'s of the Coalition.

Normally, business of such import as theirs would not be conducted in such a public, plebeian place. (Some might have said it was notoriously nefarious...or even downright dark, dismal and disreputable. All that was true. But it was far from the worst tavern in town... and the cooks charred a wicked aaxlotl steak.)

Fortunately for the cozy couple, a back entrance— made available exclusively to those possessing power and prestige— had allowed them relative obscurity on entry. Then, availing themselves of the deep corner shadows and an opaqued privacy field, they had settled in to savor the enticing aroma and rich flavor of that legendary steak.

Dinner completed and her third glass of wine in hand, Eebri glowed with warm contentment. It wasn't merely that she had savored a precisely rare tenderloin of aaxlotl— difficult to find anywhere— or that she had enjoyed it during a lingering private dinner with Briin.  Those were fabulous, of course, she thought.  In fact, it was so delicious I'd like a bit more steak...and , she giggled, Briin for dessert.

She leaned enticingly into the embracing support of the maroon satin cushions and thought pleasantly, somewhat dreamily, that they were home free. Enough time had passed for her to be reasonably certain that any repercussions from the afternoon's contentious session of the MAC meeting already would have surfaced. She felt it unnecessary— and contrary to her giddy mood— to raise the subject with Briin.

Briin, however— not yet so completely at ease as Eebri— found his mind drifting back to business. Then came an amazingly distracting, exotically sinuous shifting of Eebri's supple form. Briin moaned almost inaudibly. Struggling to control his reactions, he squirmed, shifted in his seat, and decided that it was unquestionably time to request her update on the afternoon's MAC meeting.

Catching her eye through the wavering candlelight, he paused, tilted his head, and nodded— hoping she would begin the report. Finally, realizing he had become lost in the shimmering depths of her eyes, he broke through his paralysis and said, "Well, Eebri? I'm all ears."

She frowned. "Briin, that's a terrible thing to say about our Chief of State, especially when he's reasonably attractive."

"Admirable diplomacy, Officer Laytonn," he chuckled. "And displays of such loyalty could result in your being assigned to close support duty under your Commander-in-Chief."

Her less than innocent laugh was sufficient response for Briin, so he was unnerved by her throaty purr of a response, "Oooh... does that mean you're currently considering possible positions for me?"

Briin flushed and realized he was seriously overmatched in this linguistic duel of double-entendres. He awkwardly beat a hasty, but revealing, retreat. "Uh... perhaps... later... but don't you have a report for me about the MAC meeting?"

Eebri beamed triumphantly, refocused her thoughts for a moment and said, "I think we pulled it off magnificently. As we expected, Cjorll and Vstoch led the opposition. But even their strongest complaints about Eidolon became flimsy and faded in light of our report. Of course, they were often frustrated by the fact that your First Science Officer..." she looked down demurely, as if embarrassed by her key role, "continually responded to their requests for more specific information with, 'I'm sorry, noble Lord, but we are unable to provide you with that information at this time...' or, 'An excellent question my Lord, and be assured we will provide you with further facts, once we have researched it thoroughly'." She giggled again. "Actually, Briin, they were more poorly prepared and more woefully witless than even I could have imagined.

"Of course, they resorted to febrile filibustering," she said, excitedly warming to recounting the day's success. "But it all amounted to nothing more than puerile posturing and bombastic bluster. The fact that they only raised issues about Eidolon indicates they feared that picking on this most recent appearance, Chaattel Menkondra, would yield no ripe political fruit. We entered the session extremely well prepared and more adequately armed than they could have imagined!"

Eebri paused, emitting another low thrumming purr— almost a growl— that sent an electric tingle through Briin. Attempting to hide the effect her growl had on him, he rubbed his eyes, then scratched his ear.

"We ate them up, Briin! They didn't stand a chance, and they knew it. By the time the meeting was complete, they were utterly unctuous. Of course, they did make some noisy and unsupported accusations, for which they probably should be promptly prosecuted."

Briin winked at her. "Do you really think I should sue?"

She laughed without hesitation. "What? And give them a platform from which to plead the abuse of The Mighty Chief trampling on cadet-sized committeemen's rights?"

He winced and said nothing for a moment. Then he spoke very seriously, almost angrily. "Eebri, men were lost. They may have no facts to support their allegations...but what if they're right?"

Scornful denial distorted her face. "Not in a thousand years, and you know it! Cjorll and Vstoch are merely petulant little boys following doggedly in their daddies' footsteps, hoping to place their own hand-selected servile sycophants in office. The idiots idealize inordinate incompetency!"

She rushed on, her volume and tone still rising, "Ptoriil, as sad as the reality is, when unplanned military operations are conducted in unknown locations, men sometimes will be lost. Even seemingly simple reconnaissance operations occasionally lose expert observers. These men were volunteers, as the record clearly shows. Besides, the second two men— by attempting a dangerous rescue mission of the missing crew— directly violated orders. Their loss was unquestionably a result of their own disobedience!" Eebri raced to a finish, face livid, arms flailing, almost shouting, "You are Not to blame!"

Lord Ptoriil, jaw muscles flexing and knuckles white, responded in unmistakably commanding tones, "Officer Laytonn, you must remember that, as Commander-in-Chief, I am responsible for what happens to everyone under my command. No matter who is 'to blame,' the responsibility falls on my shoulders. Our opponents won't let me forget that. Nor would I want to."

FSO Laytonn suddenly quieted and nodded tersely. "Sir, I stand corrected— and I must confess that you are correct." Then, with the hint of a pout, Eebri added, "But I don't have to like it."

Briin smiled at her ready acceptance of his reprimand and beamed at her implied support. "Eebri, I regret having taken such a formal tone in such informal surroundings. Of course, my point was real, but I was also concerned about discretion. You were becoming a bit loud and demonstrative. Although these privacy fields are good, I'm not sure they can block out such loud and shrill histrionics. We don't want to draw unnecessary attention to our being here together."

Eebri's reply carried an icy edge. "Well! A girl could take offense at that! Loud? Shrill? Given to histrionics?" Her chin trembled and her eyes misted. "I take it that you would rather not be seen with me in public!"

Briin was taken aback completely by this unaccustomed display of emotion from her. She seemed to be twisting his words intentionally.  What should I say? Hurriedly, he attempted to save what had— until now— been such an enjoyable evening.

"Eebri, I'm so sorry if I upset you. That's not at all what I meant! It's just that this isn't the most reputable place around, and people might talk." He paused, watching her flushed face soften as a single tear trickled a path down her cheek. "Oh, Brie, don't you know I'd like being with you whether it was alone in my private quarters or where we would be seen together in the most public place in the Coalition?"

A tinge of smile lifted one side of her frown and a mischievous sparkle lit her eye as Eebri responded, "If you ask nicely, Briinie, at least one of those might be arranged."

# CHAPTER 28: Alliance

All eyes were on Kyell as the echo of his shout "IT'S GONE" faded. His out-thrust, pointing hand directed everyone's attention to the view screen. It seemed shockingly empty as a result of the sudden disappearance.

Agriel's voice sounded from the now unwatched com-screen. "Admiral... Sir... the colossus is gone. The Wasp is intact, but we're utterly alone."

Jazon keyed the master communication switch. "Attention, all hands. This is Admiral Ozier speaking. Maintain alert status. Excepting only emergency reports, maintain communications silence until specific reports are requested by Commander Agriel or me.

"Any station with immediately threatening damage or severe injury to personnel, report now." Following ten seconds of silence, Jazon continued, "Good! Commander Agriel, please query your crew to assure that we have full communications and that all hands are accounted for."

Commander Agriel immediately announced, "Station officers report, confirmation or exceptions only, roll call sequence, starting with Ops. Begin."

One after another, the replies were heard: "Ops, here Sir. Com systems at 98%, and the crew has nothing worse than bumps and bruises," "Telemetry here, Sir. All secure..." Finally, with all stations reported in, the Commander's voice was heard. "Admiral, all stations and all thirty-five hands accounted for. Operations are in the green. It looks like our worst injuries are just minor abrasions and bruises."

"Thank you, Commander." Turning to his AIDD, Jazon said, "ADIZ, please sort, prioritize and summarize all station reports that arrived between Commodore Trandic's mention of the Wasp's altered path and his report that the colossus was gone. Also, provide more current updates as is timely and appropriate."

"Responding, sir.

"First: As shown on the viewers, the construct you have called 'the Colossus' has disappeared without a trace.

"Second: The Wasp remains in our near space region and is undamaged by its encounter with the Colossus.

"Third: the Wasp is now free of abnormal spin; all compartment doors on the Wasp are released from automatic lockdown and may be used..."

Kelt's voice boomed out, interrupting the report. "That's great! Now we can get to the course correction motors and...."

"Pipe down, Lieutenant! Let the AIDD complete his report!" His Commander's sharp order silenced Kelt immediately.

Apparently unaffected by the outburst, ADIZ picked up exactly where he had left off.

"...for normal access, both within the ship and for external docking and EVA.

"Fourth: Initial telemetry approximations show the Wasp's path has been changed by negative 3.35 degrees and velocity has been reduced by 19.5 percent. The Wasp's revised vector places it near the trajectory required for insertion into orbit about Kepren. The Wasp and Kepren are no longer on a collision course."

At this news, resounding cheers and shouts of joy from both the Wasp and the Command Center interrupted ADIZ. Neither Commander Agriel nor Admiral Ozier attempted to quell the celebration; they were, in fact, leading it. Hugs, cheers and backslaps continued for a full minute as ADIZ stood robotically inert, displaying neither patience nor pleasure.

The Admiral 's voice, once again firm with the ring of authority, was heard as the happy sounds began to abate. "All hands, hear this." Seconds later the din had faded completely and Jazon continued, "We're all delighted with this news, and I am delighted that it appears the worst of this crisis has passed. However, ADIZ has not completed the report I have requested, and other matters must be dealt with at his report's conclusion."

After several seconds of silence, Jazon nodded and said, "ADIZ, continue, but please repeat the last few words of your report."

"...a collision course. Final figures for course corrections required for optimal orbit insertion will be available within the hour.

"Fifth: The communications section aboard the Wasp reported the reception of a signal from the Colossus shortly before it vanished. At this time, the signal has not been identified, although it was received on a standard communications band.

"Sir, that completes my report, within the parameters you have requested."

Jazon nodded to ADIZ and turned toward the screen showing Commander Agriel. Although it was clear that the crushing weight had been lifted from Vick's shoulders, the image also revealed the tired eyes and haggard face of a sleep-deprived officer who had received far too many shocks in far too short a time. Jazon offered him a reassuring smile and spoke warmly.

"Commander Agriel, I would like to commend you and your crew for the exceptional efforts in dealing with this crisis; under demanding conditions and trying circumstances, you have performed well. Additionally, I want to offer my personal congratulations on your apparent safety.

"I would like to order all hands to return to quarters immediately for an extended and much needed rest. However— as much as I would personally like to issue that order, that is impossible at this time. It is essential that we establish precisely what must be done to bring the Wasp safely into orbit around Kepren. Accordingly, Commander Agriel, please determine who requires immediate medical attention and/or rest, and establish how to best effect the required course correction...."

"Pardon me, Admiral."

Jazon spun in surprise at ADIZ's interruption. Somewhat gruffly he demanded, "Can't it wait?"

"Perhaps, Sir. But I have an update that is 'timely and appropriate' to the orders you are issuing. Do you wish that information now or should I wait until you complete your directives?"

Jazon glanced at Sabanda, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and spoke much less curtly, "ADIZ, please provide us with the information you feel is pertinent."

"Certainly, Sir. VSDI 473 reports that an accurate determination of the Wasp's new trajectory has been made. It is now 100% certain that the Wasp will be able to achieve optimal orbital insertion with only a minor course correction. If your desire is for the Wasp's crew to take their rest periods at this time, all projections indicate the crew may do so without concern for any immediate need to calculate and implement the final adjustments required to achieve Kepren orbit."

Vick, peering wide–eyed through the viewer at ADIZ, asked, "Are you trying to say that the Colossus altered our vector so precisely that we can achieve accurate orbital insertion if we wait several hours before effecting course adjustments?"

"No, Sir. I am attempting to communicate that the Wasp is on such an exact trajectory that the final course modification required is so small that you could safely wait multiple days before making it."

* * *

Immediately after confirming that the Wasp was truly safe, "housekeeping" chores had been assigned. As tired and worn as he was, Agriel had ordered— noting sardonically that "rank hath its privileges"— that only senior crew stand duty until the remaining crew could rest and resume their stations. All remaining Wasp personnel were ordered to quarters for a minimum of four hours rest before returning to duty. The senior section officers remained at their stations for skeleton-crew duty; Vick assigned himself the task of trying to decipher the signal transmitted by the Colossus.

After the initial euphoria over the "rescue" had worn off, there were hints of growing concern and worry over the origin and intent of the vanished Colossus. The immediate crisis had been resolved, though not because of any specific actions by any Alliance personnel. Although Jazon, Sabanda and Kyell had deferred all participation in public speculation, they now sat at the mess table, privately discussing the turn of events.

"So you don't have a clue what it was or where it came from, either?" Kyell asked Jazon. "I was really hoping you might have an inside scoop. Man, I thought I was overwhelmed when I first saw ADIZ's ship on Earth, but..." He gazed vacantly toward the wall as his fingers slid through his hair, then added softly, "This 'mystery ship' is about 50,000 times larger."

"And, even as much as you love your trusty shotgun," Sabanda teased, "I doubt you would have dared shooting at this ship!"

"Well... I might dare to," Kyell laughed shakily, "but I wouldn't even know where I should aim! Any damage I might cause would be about the same as if I just sneezed at it."

Jazon, shook his head and blew out a breathy whistle. "And we thought the mysteries of the universe would be solved when our masks were removed. Instead, they just keep getting bigger and more puzzling! If that thing had been hostile..."

"Jazon, weren't we ordered to belay speculation?" Sabanda quickly interjected, poker faced.

Startled, he turned a puzzled frown on Sabanda and asked, "When...by who?"

"It's 'by whom,' dear," she corrected. Struggling to keep a straight face, she answered, "Earlier, by the Admiral." As she saw the light dawn in Jazon's eyes and the lines smooth on his brow, her smirk broke into full laughter. First Kyell and then Jazon joined in, finally releasing their bottled tensions.

"Besides," Sabanda continued, "there's much more to be thankful for than the fact the Colossus demonstrated no hostility. It provided a tremendous service to us. The Alliance could not have rescued the Wasp in that way...we have no means of quickly moving anything that big."

"Do you mean the Wasp or the Colossus?" asked Kyell.

Jazon answered for Sabanda, "Flip a coin, Kyell. Either one of them fits the description. But since we don't have that level of technology, who does? And where does it come from? The way it simply appeared and disappeared reminds me of the SDs."

"Do you think they could be related?" asked Kyell. "And, if so, did the Intruder send the Colossus? Or has someone joined our side in the battle to stop the SDs?"

"As they say on Earth," Sabanda responded, "that is the question."

"Well then," said Jazon, "we'll just have to ferret out the answer. In the meantime, we have some work to do. Kyell, please coordinate with the Wasp on its schedule for Kepren approach and orbital insertion. Then get on the visuals of this whole incident. See if you can make any sense out of them, or if they can give us clues to a any possible connection with the SDs. And, unless the two of you have got more sleep than I did, we all need to take some downtime soon."

"Jazon, I'll get all of us squared away with quarters here on the command level. Kyell, when you're through reviewing the visuals, check with ADIZ for your berth assignment; I'll make sure your things are waiting for you."

"Thanks, Sabanda. I'll see you and Jazon after we've rested...say about 0630 Hours?"

Jazon groaned and rubbed his neck. "Let's not pin it down for now. I need to tie down a few loose ends, including issuing orders for the missiles to be deactivated. But once I get to sleep, I don't want to wake up until I have to. The Wasp won't reach orbit for several days. Wake me up then if I'm still asleep."

"Aye, aye, Admiral," Kyell laughed. "You and Sabanda get some rest and get reacquainted. All sensors are on full alert status, and I'll have ADIZ notify me of any other complications. If any come up, I'll handle them...or call you if it requires a minor miracle."

"Thanks, Kyell." Jazon scrubbed at his face again. "But the truth is that I've been little more than an observer during today's events. We have to find out who— or what— has pulled off this miracle."

* * *

Sabanda reached across the bed, gently stroked Jazon's arm, and said, "Jace, I know something's bothering you. Can you tell me what it is?"

"Nothing, really, Sam. It's probably just that I'm tired."

"Jazon Ozier, I know you better than that. Something is worrying you. If you can't tell your wife, I'll understand." She graced him with her sunniest smile. "But I think it's important that you at least share your concerns with your Vice-Admiral."

In mock dismay, he said, "I don't make a habit of going to bed with my Vice-Admirals and divulging my innermost secrets!"

"I believe that is an admirable policy, Admiral." Then, with a wink, she added, "So long as I remain the only exception."

He shrugged, but was unable to stifle his laugh. "Sabanda, I forgot to tell you how much I appreciated your calming Agriel— in fact, everyone— at the peak of the tension during the crisis. You are justifiably renowned in the Armada's upper echelons for your calming effect on people, and I am very thankful to have you as my 'secret weapon'."

She smiled, squeezed his arm, and nodded gracious acceptance of the compliment.

He tried to wait her out, but her silence was adamant. Finally, he capitulated, "OK! You win...as usual. I can't help wondering about the 'whys' of the SDs. Is some alien civilization causing these disappearances as a prelude to invasion, destroying entire star systems and their inhabitants as a way of softening us up by showing their power? Might that be why almost every SD has occurred almost immediately before a ship has arrived in the region of the system by star tube? And why would they be invading?

"Then I wonder if the systems might not have been destroyed, but instead somehow...I don't know, 'kidnapped' or 'captured.' But why? If they need planets to solve an overpopulation problem, why come to our cluster for them? And why always settled worlds? Could they possibly want our people for slaves, to farm crops they need to relieve a famine?

"And now I keep wondering if, possibly, the real reason why the Colossus "saved" the Wasp was to protect Kepren...so it could be captured in some future SD they have planned. Maybe it's not so much that they were trying to help us, but that they were just protecting what they consider to be their future resources! Sabanda, it's the whys that bother me...worry me. But worrying hasn't yielded any answers. Just more questions."

"Jazon, what makes you think you're all alone? Do you feel that only your broad shoulders can carry the load? Why refuse to share it with anyone? No wonder you've been distressed!

"And as important as the 'whys' are, your fearful speculation makes no sense, Jazon. We've seen no signs of any such hostile civilization anywhere in our extensive explorations of the galaxy. No truly advanced technological civilization we've ever encountered has continued to wage war. And any civilization with the power to destroy or transfer systems surely wouldn't need to raid an inhabited cluster, steal its planetary systems, and enslave its people. With that kind of power, they must have the capability to solve those problems without resorting to plundering another civilization.

"I know these problems weigh heavily on you. In fact, I've wondered if that was why you've been so restless in your sleep." Seeing the guilty look on his face, she continued, "And before you bring up the Colossus, remember that its actions saved the Wasp. Kyell is on watch and our defense systems are on full alert. For now, nothing more can be done...but I've been having difficulty sleeping the last few days, too. However, I have an admission to make, too. What's bothering me now is not the SDs or the Colossus. It's simply that we've had so little private, personal time since we've left Earth. We may not have had a lot of technology or close friends there... but we did have a lot of 'us' time... and I'm missing that."

He smiled most appreciatively, then his pupils dilated as she stretched sinuously. She leaned over him, brushing gently against his bare chest. After her second warm kiss and her third soft caress, his concerns about the Colossus and the SDs had been left far behind.

Later, as Jazon slept peacefully, Sabanda drifted off with a doubly contented smile.

* * *

After coordinating with the Wasp's crew on preparations for its orbital insertion, Kyell had managed to get a couple of hours sleep. That left him physically more prepared, but there seemed to be a lack of urgency, with the Wasp's threat past. He had to push past his lethargy to get himself to think about the SDs.

OK, start with the last one first— Chad. Unlike all previous disappearances, only the planet was taken. All earlier cases....

As he mulled over these problems, his long strides quickly carried him to the plotting room. An AIDD acknowledged his entrance, and Kyell issued a command. The room darkened and the displays began to play out across the entire upper portion of the domed room. Stellar objects would acquire a faint glow, indicating the site of impending action. Display time was compressed; the system disappearances of the previous thirteen years were shown in less than an hour. A system would acquire a violet haze, become enveloped by it, then vanish. The scene would then shift to the next SD event.

Although the visuals clearly should have detected any alien ships, nothing even remotely like the Colossus— in fact, no aggressors of any description— could be seen. He reviewed his notes, closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

Somewhere in all our information, there has to be an answer! An invader has to use some form of communication. But no transmissions have ever been detected. Wouldn't an invader initiate contact, at least to gloat or make some demands? Even if only to ask for our surrender in exchange for ending the hostilities? It's hard to imagine an intruder who would continue to attack without communicating something, even if it's just to lord it over us about their power.

It's still inconceivable that entire systems can vanish without a trace! If the systems were actually destroyed, wouldn't there be some remains left behind? It's as if all the matter in the systems had ceased to exist. But that can't be! That violates all the laws of physics. Was the mass of the systems transformed to energy? No sign of it. Could the intruder have somehow drained all the energy away? Not without at least some trace sign of it!

Could the systems have been transported? But where...and why? Do those missing systems still exist, somewhere in the Nine Creations? Is it possible that any— or virtually all— of our six billion lost people could still be alive?

# CHAPTER 29: Coalition

They remained in the privacy of their dark corner at the Tunnel Rats Pub. Briin had covered his confusion at Eebri's enigmatic comment by ordering a flaming spirituous dessert and more wine. Almost an hour had passed in increasingly relaxed conversation since they had savored the last bites of the intoxicating confection.

Still, he couldn't quench the image burning in his mind's eye.  The hint of an inviting smile, a sultry warmth in those emerald eyes...and Eebri saying "If you ask nicely, Briin, at least one of those might be arranged." He discreetly rubbed his napkin across his mouth, hoping she wouldn't notice the drop of wine that had slipped past the corner of his mouth as he once again absorbed those words.  Thank goodness I wasn't taking a sip when she said it...I would have been wiping wine off of her all night!

Although the thought had begun as one of relief at the barely averted gaffe of spewing wine in her direction, the resulting image created a new sense of pleasure tinged with uneasiness. He shifted slightly in an attempt to relieve his discomfort.  But how can I get more comfortable when every thought reminds me of her tantalizing hint? And which invitation is she ready to accept? Public gathering...or private quarters?

Eebri interrupted his thoughts with an amazing display of deep breathing followed by a three-part, gracefully uncoiling stretch that seemed to involve loosening every bone in her body— and in Briin's. Somehow, one side of her neatly mounded coiffure had come loose, and lustrous scarlet strands cascaded across and contrasted with the distracting expanse of creamy skin bared by her off-the-shoulder dress design.

He couldn't seem to rediscover the location of the muscles that would close his jaw, but the size of his eyes indicated he was intently focused on something.

She drained the last sip from her goblet, delicately replaced it on the table, and purred contentedly, "Aauhmmuun...Oooh, my! Briinie, it seems that all our wonderfully wicked wine is gone. Do we dare order more, or should we move on?"

Still lost in the reverberations of Eebri's purr, Briin only caught the "should we move on?" portion of her statement. Unwilling to admit how much he might have missed, and intrigued by what "moving on" might lead to, he quickly temporized. "Remaining longer in such a public place probably isn't wise, so let's move on." He immediately paid the bill through the table's inset data terminal. "Let's go... and then, Eebri, we can discuss the possible alternatives."

As he took her arm, she nodded deferentially and leaned softly and warmly against him. But her eyes— somehow softer and fuller than usual— remained locked on Briin's. "It's good of you to notice that I'm feeling the effects of the wine. With my inhibitions down, you never know what I might do."

His boldness finally overtook his caution and, as he urgently ushered her toward the private exit, he said, "Don't worry, Brie...I'll be happy to take very good care of you."

Before he could discover how Eebri might respond, the private entrance/exit reserved for V.I.P.'s opened, revealing the startled faces of Lords Cjorll and Vstoch in the doorway. There was no way to avoid them, and both young Lords recovered their surprise quickly enough to recognize the potential value of confrontation versus avoidance.

Briin hoped that common courtesy might get them quickly beyond any potentially embarrassing encounter. Guiding the less than perfectly steady Eebri around the approaching youths, Lord Ptoriil nodded respectfully and attempted a politely formal dismissal. "Lord Cjorll. Lord Vstoch. Do enjoy yourselves...we were just leaving."

"My, oh my! And what sort of surreptitious rendezvous do we have here? Do you see what I see, Kuuiz?"

"Why, I'm not sure, Vlagen," replied Cjorll Kuuiz. "Is it the Chief of State merely meeting with an accustomed aide, or have we stumbled upon a notorious nobleman on a tete-a-tete with his trollop?"

"Oh, it can't be official, Lord Cjorll; neither of them are in formal uniform..."

"Although, Lord Vstoch, it does appear as though he might have attempted to extricate her from her informal dress!"

Briin roared angrily, "That's enough! You could have passed politely, yet you insist on committing slander. I will not tolerate such insolent breaches of protocol!"

Cjorll's response spewed venom. "Protocol? How dare you invoke aristocratic authority! You can't intimidate and harass peers of the Regency to cover your tawdry trysting!"

"That's right!" crowed Vstoch. "You got no special authority here," he added while edging behind Cjorll's shoulder to avoid Lord Ptoriil's possible explosion.

But Cjorll, seeing the attention they had drawn from the pub's patrons. chose to fan the flames. He stepped boldly forward, hoping to taunt the Regent Supreme into creating a potentially damaging public incident. Pitching his voice toward the gathering crowd, he jeered, "You threaten a Lord of the Realm and a member of the Advisory Committee? You wouldn't dare assault me, even to hide this dalliance with your doxy!"

Briin's justified but imprudent attack was averted by a slight figure deftly spinning him off balance and shouting, "Lord Ptoriil! No! They're not worth it!"

All eyes in the suddenly quieted room turned to the source of the warning.

Her eyes flashed like emerald lasers as Eebri glared at the posturing young lords. As if hotly seared, each shrank somewhat from his pretense of regal bravado. Provoking the Chairman of MAC was one thing; taking on an angry— possibly inebriated— female officer of the Realm was another. Still, this opportunity to embarrass the Chief of State in front of such a motley assembly proved too enticing.

"Ooooh, look at him," brayed Cjorll. "Hiding behind his strumpet's skimpy skirts."

"Yeah, just like he hides information from the Committee! I wonder what else he's wantin' her to hide tonight?" laughed Vstoch suggestively.

Briin, barely in control, stepped forward and growled, "That is intolerably venal effrontery! Contests of armed combat may be centuries out of fashion, but to punish such vulgar and cowardly behavior, I would gladly revive the practice to challenge you!"

Again he was drawn back by Eebri. Her voice sliced through the fast filling room, assuring that all would hear. "No, Lord Ptoriil. They are beneath your dignity. Do not allow their empty epithets to arouse your anger. They are insulting idlers incapable of integrity. Physical combat may be out of fashion, but the Coalition's tradition of the Verbal Duel may serve just as well."

The Rang Tonk band had ceased its playing. Eebri's last words had echoed loudly, carrying to the farthest periphery of the restaurant. The buzzing of the curious crowd continued to grow. Unable to resist the opportunity to accept her challenge and perform before such an audience, Cjorll Kuuiz stepped forward and shouted, "Does the doxy do her duty? Might the mistress master the Master?"

Now incensed and formally challenged, Eebri played the growing crowd as the brash youngster could only have hoped to do. Turning to face Cjorll, she spat out caustically, "You had no hesitation in unsheathing your contemptible commentary and slashing me with sharply slanderous statements. Now you will ruefully regret rushing into carelessly crossing cutting words of woe with me!"

The crowd, sensing the strength of her skill, cheered her attack.

Dropping theatrically to one knee, she held Briin's trembling hand and spoke in a projecting stage whisper. "Nay, my Lord, nay. I beg you to stay, not slay, these scrofulous, spineless simpletons. Have pity on them! They wish they were wags and wits, but know they are only nags and nits."

The laughs now issuing from the audience rang hotly in Cjorll's ears. Yet before he could essay a rejoinder, Eebri continued. "Noble Lord Ptoriil, do not stoop so low as to banter with blubbering babies. You should not care to converse with such contemptibly callow cads. They profess to be noble Lords, but it is not nearly so; their hostile Houses are hotbeds of ignoble inbred idiots, and they are empty execrable excuses for excellence. They are fallow facades of facile foolishness."

At this, both Cjorll and Vstoch stood stunned, mouths agape. Appreciative shouts were called out by pub patrons: "Inbred Idiots!" "Huzzah, huzzah!" "Excuses for Excellence!" Now the entire room began to resonate with shouted refrains and coordinated rhythmic clapping, the traditional Coalition accompaniment for a telling attack. They were calling for the coup de grace.

Eebri didn't disappoint them. "Nay, nobleman, nay. Do not stain your hands on these inept ignoramuses imitating intelligence! They merely mimic men, but are beneath you, acting as animals— absolutely abysmal and asinine aaxlotl! Both these babbling bastards believe they have brains, but they're barely better than burdensome beasts! Do depart from the profound pollution and pestilence produced by these bawdy boneheads' base and bilious buffoonery. Let us pass from the putrid presence of such poor pusillanimous peons posing as palpably proper people."

Before Briin or the humiliated Lords could react to the thunderous cheers and raucous laughter echoing throughout the Pub, Eebri pulled Briin through the private entrance and slammed the door behind them— still muttering something about "woeful weakling whelps of wallowing warty waalruhz" as she went.

As they reached the cool air under the star-flecked sky, Briin impetuously spun her around and quickly kissed her. "Brie, you were wonderful! But, you know, you made two enemies today."

Eebri, brushed a fluttering kiss across his cheek, stepped back with a sly smile, and toyed with a stray curl. "No, Briin. They were already your enemies. It's just that they now know they are also mine."

# CHAPTER 30: Alliance

The door chime roused Jazon from a deep sleep. Once recognition codes were exchanged, Kyell sauntered in.

"Before you ask, Admiral, there is no new crisis."

"Great news, Kyell. So let's drop the protocol and get some breakfast."

"You're too late, Jace. Your wife and I already had breakfast...two hours ago. But I'd be proud to have a cup'a brew with you, but I just met with the Commander and he's anxious to talk with you."

"Agriel? Is that the first time he's called in?"

"He didn't call. He's here at Mathlen, in the Command Center. He's just arrived."

"But the Wasp isn't due for..."

Kyell laughed. "Jace, you're not really awake yet. I know how he got here, but he says he can't tell the whole story to anyone but you. I hate to rush you, so while you get dressed I'll tell Agriel he can explain everything after you've eaten."

"As hungry as I am, Kyell, breakfast has to wait. Give me five minutes to freshen up and then send him in here. While I'm dressing, I'll catch up on what you've already learned. Then we'll be along shortly to continue with you and Sabanda."

"OK, but once you've eaten, I need to tell you about something... a theory I came up with after reviewing all the SD visuals last night."

"Fine, Kyell, but don't say anything to anyone about your theory 'til Vick and Sam and I can hear it together."

"You've got it, Jace." He turned toward the door, then turned back. "Can I ask a personal question?"

"Sure thing, Trandic. Of course, I can't promise I'll answer it." He laughed. "So what's on your mind?"

"It's silly, really... just curious. I've noticed that, since we've returned from Earth, you sometimes use the nickname 'Sam" for Sabanda. It sure fit when we all thought her name was Samantha... but how in kretch do you get Sam now?"

"That's an easy one to answer," Jazon chuckled. "She got her nickname from Earth, and we had some really special times there. She may not be from Earth anymore, but she'll always be Sam to me."

"Good answer," Kyell said as he exited.

Jazon headed for the fresher. He showered quickly and had just finished shaving when he heard Commander Agriel's signal requesting entry. Quickly slipping into his pants, he signaled Vick to enter.

"Admiral, I appreciate your seeing me immediately, but if you haven't eaten yet, our meeting can be delayed a bit longer."

Jazon threw Vick a wave of negation. "Thank you, Commander...but if you could delay your sleep until your crew had rested, my breakfast can wait. As you insisted then— commendably— 'rank hath its privileges'... and, I might add, its responsibilities. Alright with you if I finish dressing while we talk?"

"Certainly, Admiral. And, Sir," Agriel glanced at the floor, then resumed eye contact. "I want to apologize for losing my head during the encounter with the Colossus. It wasn't the..."

Jazon interrupted compassionately, "Unnecessary, Commander. Considering the amount of stress you were all under for so long, it's a testament to your strength as a leader that none of your crew lost their sanity. Especially when the Colossus appeared."

"Sir, I appreciate your generosity. But I'm not so sure some of us...especially me...didn't go a little crazy for a while." Seeing that Jazon was about to correct him again, Vick held up his long six-fingered hand and hurried on. "Admiral, I'll follow your lead and try to gracefully accept your confidence, with gratitude."

Jazon nodded and smiled. "Have a seat, Commander. Then tell me: What brings you to the neighborhood? And how did you get here so quickly?"

Vick smiled. "Since our helpful meddler not only corrected our path but stopped our spin, our compartment doors opened like magic." He looked around, self-consciously. "Admiral, I had an unauthorized racer aboard the Wasp. It's a small, two-man, specially boosted craft with... uh... experimental propulsion add-ons that make it wicked fast. It's sort of hobby of mine...." He shrugged contritely. "Anyway, I pushed it to the max as soon as I could leave, and here I am."

Jazon wagged his finger at Vick, then chuckled. "Consider yourself chastised, Vick. After what you've been through, I don't think a formal record of it is appropriate."

"Thank you, Sir." Vick smiled in relief. "That is very kind of you."

"Not entirely." Jazon continued sternly, "The wavier is conditional."

"Sir?"

"We'll pass on any formal review of the subject of your unauthorized equipment on one condition."

Vick nodded cautiously "And what is that condition, Sir?"

"This is the condition," casting a theatrically exaggerated furtive look to each side, Jazon finished, "that when this crisis is over, I have your solemn promise..."

Vick leaned forward, teetering on the edge of his seat. "Yes, Sir?"

" Your solemn secret promise," Jazon said excitedly, "that you and I will go out for a long spin in that hopped-up racer of yours!" He burst into laughter, no longer able to hold it back.

Vick laughed just as hard, then responded conspiratorially, "It will be our secret, Sir... and my pleasure!"

"OK. Now that we have that little issue well buried, Vick, what's behind your sudden change of plans? What was the hurry, and why the secrecy? Why did you insist on speaking only to me?"

Vick looked pensive. "When the Colossus was doing its number, we were monitoring a wide range of the spectrum, including ultra-high frequencies. That intermittent signal it sent? I've gone over and over the recording of it. I'm not sure, but it sort of sounds like some code... like it might be a message. I meant no disrespect to Commodore Trandic, but...well, with the possible implications, I wasn't sure if I should tell anyone but you."

"Acknowledged and appreciated, Commander. However, in the future, feel free to tell the Commodore— or the Vice-Admiral— anything you would tell me. I'd trust either of them with the family jewels."

Vick snickered, but simply said, "Yes, Sir."

"In fact, Commander, hold the rest of your story. Now that I'm presentable, let's join them."

As they walked toward that meeting, ADIZ approached and placed a previously requested printout into Jazon's hands. It gave full details on all eleven systems that had vanished. "Join us," he told ADIZ. "We may need your help."

They resumed walking, Jazon again considering the SDs. The figures did not include Chad. It wasn't a "normal" disappearance— but could any of them be called normal? Chad had vanished, but its sun remained. Why had all of the others vanished with their primaries? A faint suspicion nagged at him. He couldn't raise it to the level of consciousness, but it wouldn't go away.

Promising, yet annoying.

# CHAPTER 31: Coalition

Briin turned over for the tenth time and absently rearranged his tangled bedding. His focus was elsewhere. Had he detected excitement in Eebri's voice? Had there been any trace of desire— desire for him? He thought there was, hoped there was. He turned over yet another time.

What did she mean by telling me, "one of those might be possible"? And, which one? Why not both? Could I do something about it right now?

No...it's too late. The moment has passed. And she's sure to be asleep by now. If I disturb her, it had better be an emergency of the worst sort, or I'd be in real trouble.

The image of her smiling face swam in his mind's eye, and quickly blossomed into a full figure view.  And what a figure!  It's no wonder I have trouble concentrating on matters of state whenever she's near.

Matters of state! These events involving "matters of state" are playing havoc not only with my professional life but with my personal life as well! How could I consider approaching Eebri on a personal basis when my professional life is in such turmoil? The last thing I'd want is to secure her affections because she feels sorry for me. But what if she thinks I'm just using my professional dilemma as an excuse for not advancing my suit with her? I know I've never really fooled her about how I feel. We've exchanged some bantering small talk— the kind which could go either way— but deep down, I know she knows!

He turned over yet again. The memory of a fleeting kiss brushed his cheek.  No position is comfortable when the bed you are on has nothing to do with your discomfort!

Since nothing else productive occurred to him, he disgustedly threw off the covers, stalked into his personal fresher and splashed water on his face. He knew before going it wouldn't help, and it didn't. He was teetering on a knife edge of indecision: to go quietly back to bed...or to burst into Eebri's room, pour out his heart and brace for her response. But deep within him, quiet counsel firmly advised that he go back to bed and pursue their relationship on another day.

Moving to the game board on the shelf, he attempted to distract himself for a few minutes, sighed and returned reluctantly to his bed. He tried to drift off. It was hopeless. He tried again to concentrate on "affairs of state" instead of affairs of the heart.

The Regents have refused to contact the inhabitants of any captured system. To what purpose? Do they imagine the aliens' technology is so backward that they still have no inkling of the Coalition's existence? Have the refugees taken their cue from the Coalition's lack of contact and become fearful to initiate contact themselves? Thus far the loss of their stargates during the transitions has prevented them from resuming inter-stellar travel, but our "guests" can't be expected to remain dormant indefinitely. This isolationist policy cannot be maintained forever... whoever initiates the contact.

Frustrated again by unanswerable questions on the issue of the captured systems, he prepared to turn his attention elsewhere with a final, heartfelt thought : The only thing I'm sure of is that I sincerely hope no further harm comes to their people.

He concentrated again, forcing himself to refocus.

Are the men lost at Eidolon really dead? The presence of an atmosphere within that strange opening offers some hope that they haven't perished for lack of air but, Briin sadly conceded, they surely must have starved to death by this time.

He tried to put it out of his mind, and his focus strayed. In spite of the gravity of his previous musings, Eebri's lovely form wriggled its way into his thoughts yet again. She was in his arms; she quivered against him and his own body echoed it as he pressed his lips to hers...

He sighed out loud.

Enough is enough! If I don't tell Eebri how I feel, I'll go crazy. I may not do it tomorrow, but I'll do it soon. If she rejects me...well, then, so be it. But this indecision is making me less effective in my work and driving me mad! I can't tolerate it any longer!

He gave up fighting his troubled thoughts and decided to get up.  It's 0815 hours anyway.

Heading for the fresher, another breath-taking view of Eebri troubled his mind.

# CHAPTER 32: Alliance

Kyell and Sabanda sat at a table in the Visuals Room. Five view screens simultaneously replayed various scenes of the Colossus diverting the Wasp into an orbital insertion path. Kyell froze the visuals as Jazon, Vick, and ADIZ entered.

"Good morning, Vice-Admiral, Commodore" Agriel said formally, yet with a cheerfulness absent during his encounter with the Colossus. "I hope you got some rest."

"Same to you, Commander," Sabanda replied.

Jazon spoke up quickly, "Let's skip the protocol, folks. We're all in this together. Agriel, call me Jazon; you know Kyell and Sabanda."

"Thank you, Jazon" Agriel grinned, adding quickly, "and I'd be honored if each of you would call me Vick."

Kyell pointed to the trays at the end of the table. "I don't know if you've eaten, Vick, but I know Jazon is hungry. There's enough there for both of you."

As the two men uncovered their trays, Sabanda said, "We've been reviewing visuals of the Wasp's encounter. While you eat, watch screen five." She re-started the display.

Kyell shifted his chair aside slightly to offer Jazon and Vick better vantage points, then said, "Jazon, you need to see this. It's part of what I noticed last night." He pressed a console switch. The view reversed action until he released it, then resumed moving forward.

"That's it, there...that faint distortion. Must be some form of tractor beam, but the Wasp reported no magnetics or energy emission. Hmm... Plasma nucleonics, maybe?"

Sabanda worried an errant curl. "Possibly, Kyell, but did you notice that faint glow from the Colossus during the deflection? A glow like that couldn't be a simple corona effect like that produced by electrical conduction through a wire in moist air. There was no moist air— not in space."

Kyell reversed the recording again and re-started it at one-tenth speed. "OK, now look at this."

At reduced speed, a glow was more apparent, extending between the Wasp and one huge "foot" of the Colossus. That glow was decidedly different from the illumination of the Colossus itself. It was just at the edge of visual perception, faintly glowing against the darker background of space.

"Great job, you two," Jazon said sincerely. "Maybe some of the Wasp's other remotes or onboard systems caught something more— maybe on recordings made at frequencies outside the visual spectrum. Those might show it more clearly. Vick, check that out with your crew later. Right now, though, we have other business to attend to."

Pushing his finished meal aside, Jazon established brief eye contact with each person, subtly acknowledging the importance of their roles. "We're here to review the Wasp's encounter and its possible connection to the SDs. Kyell has mentioned he found something that might be important, but we can't yet afford to assume his theory is right. We need to review every available visual of the SDs to see if any of us finds something that matches his tentative conclusion.

"First, though, Vick has some news about the signal sent by the Colossus. I think we should hear it now, since he felt it was important enough to leave the Wasp to his second-in-command and race here." He winked at Vick. "The floor is yours."

Vick stood self-consciously, suddenly aware that he had the full attention of the most important V.I.P.'s in the Kepren Cluster. He took a deep breath to compose himself, then began.

"As I've briefly mentioned to Admiral..." Jazon's stern look froze him for a moment. Then he realized the reason, relaxed and corrected himself. "As I told Jazon, earlier, the signal sent by the Colossus sounds like it could be some kind of code. We fed it through all of our automated decoding algorithms, but didn't come up with anything we recognized. So, while we haven't deciphered the code yet, we still suspect it could be a coded message."

"What sort of message?" asked Kyell.

"That's what we were wondering, and why I... uh... raced to Mathlen so quickly, Kyell. I know this is all still speculation... but I know how good my guys are at this kind of analysts. So I thought it was important enough to get it to you immediately. I'm hoping you can help crack the code so— if it is a message— we can figure out what it says."

Vick handed an m'bar to ADIZ, who deposited it into the proper cavity in his chest. Vick said, "ADIZ, play sector 3/41/9, segments 161.22 through 162.38." Immediately, from the robot's internal speaker, came a static buzz that hinted at being very fast staccato clicks. Everyone listened intently.

After a few moments Kyell whispered, "Hard to be sure, but I think part of it... maybe a series... is being repeated. I don't know what it is, but somethin' about it seems kind'a familiar. But I don't pick up any intelligible pattern so far." Seeing no differing opinion from the group, he asked, "Vick, you said your communications whiz-kids believed it was a code. What do they make of it?"

"They think it's got to be some kind of a clicker code. They're convinced there's a pattern there: three, possibly four groups of clicks that repeat over and over. Shallen thinks maybe it's three groups, Alten's sure it's four." Vick scratched his neatly shaved chin. "Did you take 'Theory and Analysis of Supra-luminal Communication Encryption and Transfer' at the Academy?"

"Yeah," Kyell winced. "I suffered through a whole year of Danton Kellice's version of academic torture, but I don't remember much besides the pain. The cadets referred to it as 'TASCET,' but I remember little beyond that." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, comically. "I guess you could say I've always had problems with 'TASCET understanding'."

Sabanda and Jazon groaned.

"Well," laughed Vick, "Alten and Shallen were tops at the Academy in Kellice's class. And, strangely, both are almost positive the signal uses one of the coded encryption patterns they studied in that class— or similar enough to make it sound familiar. And to me it feels..." He tilted his head slowly to the right. "It's like the sound of a frequency filtered or compressed so tightly that information is lost. Does that make any sense?"

Sabanda immediately addressed ADIZ. "Slow down the signal's rate by 10% for ten seconds, then continue slowing in 10% time-lapses until one of us asks you to stop."

"Responding." The tempo of the signal obligingly began to decelerate, slowing more every ten seconds.

The group listened for three minutes. The sound of the signal gradually became more clearly recognizable as extremely rapid clicks. However, none of the group recognized any clear pattern, even after the playback rate had been decreased by roughly 400%,. Jazon stood, instructed ADIZ to stop the playback, then asked ADIZ to make copies of the altered sounds for Vick, Kyell and Sabanda for later study.

"Vick, normally I'd debrief you at this point on your encounter with the Colossus. However, in our current situation, I'd first like our assembled group to go over all of the visuals we have on the SDs. Then we can hear your story afterwards, so everything fits together chronologically. Any objections?"

"Whatever you say, Sir...er...Jazon."

Kyell and Sabanda hid their amusement as Jazon continued.

"We'll run through all the SDs we have visuals on, in order of their occurrence. As you know, many are of poor quality. Most are of the more recent events recorded after we placed remote sentinels near all settled systems prior to any evacuations. Some of the sentinels vanished with the systems, so we have usable visuals of only six SDs." Turning toward the large wall display as the lights dimmed, he said, "Please make any notes you like, but let's hold comment 'til we've completed one full viewing of all six SDs."

He signaled ADIZ and the now familiar, but still stunning saga of the lost worlds paraded before them. Silence reigned during the review. Each person was revisited by the strong emotions they had experienced at the time of the actual SDs. When Chad's disappearance had been replayed, they sat quietly, looking around at each other expectantly.

Jazon broke the silence to establish the guidelines for the discussion. "OK, that's the first pass through. Let's not stand on formalities. Anyone who wants to raise observations, speculations or theories can offer them as they choose. Don't worry whether it's new insights or old ideas, logical assumption or guesses, clear fact or improbable fantasy. If you even suspect it might be important, share it. Any questions?"

After a few quiet moments, he nodded. "OK, let's do it. Who wants to get us started?"

Sabanda broke the silence. "It's clear that until Chad, whole systems disappeared, not just one planet or a star. That's not new...but I still don't see why it broke the pattern."

Kyell picked up the thought, sifting his fingers through his hair. "I think it's important to focus on how the systems were affected, not just the fact they were. Then we can consider the 'why'."

Vick tugged on his long dark ear lobe, then followed up on Kyell's suggestion. "ADIZ, when each system disappeared, was every planet taken at exactly the same instant as its sun?"

After the barest pause, the answer came. "Apparently so. At least to the smallest fraction of a second our sensors can detect."

"Well, then," responded Vick, "maybe, when a disappearance occurs, that purplish "frame" is the border of some encircling force that advances until it surrounds all the planets and their star..." He paused to avoid speaking his next thought: And then it swallows them.

Kyell filled the gap. "ADIZ, we need a probability analysis. Examine the odds for the natural occurrence of the following events: First, of any individual planet or star in our cluster disappearing. Second, the simultaneous disappearance of both a planet and its sun. Third, the disappearance of full systems. Fourth, the disappearance of only settled systems. Employ approximation and speculation where necessary, but don't bother giving us the individual odds— just the combined result."

"Responding." An appreciable pause followed before ADIZ spoke again. "My regrets for the delay, but in addressing the parameters of your question, analysis and logic dictate the inclusion of two additional parameters. First, the fact that the 'violet haze' event has approached from the same direction and in the same plane each time. Analysis also projects that slight variations must have occurred in the fabric of space-time. Since probability speculation was requested, I would postulate that the force would be gravitational in nature, possibly related to the total mass of each system.

"Analysis of the combined parameters indicates, with an error factor of plus or minus 4.27 percent, that the final probability is approximately 393 trillion to one against the chance occurrence of such simultaneous events." The robot fell silent.

The silence held. The members of the team looked from one to another. When Jazon felt sure no one else was going to speak, he said, "Can we..." He cleared his constricted throat. "Can we agree that answers the question about the SDs being intelligently directed?"

Noticing Kyell's questioning glance, Jazon smiled tightly and sighed. "Something tells me we had better brace for the rest, but before I turn the floor over to Kyell, let's recess long enough to gather some additional data.

"Vick, you need to contact the Wasp. See if the remotes picked up anything more on the phenomenon Sabanda and Kyell found— the faint glow from the foot of the Colossus that shows during the course alteration. Also, see if Shallen and Alten have made any further progress on that signal code. Kyell, please join Vick in that code discussion...you're good at asking totally off-the-wall questions that get others to look at things from a new viewpoint."

Sabanda laughed and said, "Jazon, I'd like to try working with the signal recording for a little while. Is it OK if I kidnap ADIZ?"

He frowned. "I guess that leaves me to rustle up some food for us. " Then he laughed cheerfully, "Oh, well. I guess that's just the hazard of surrounding myself with bright and talented people. Let's reconvene in two hours."

# CHAPTER 33: Cronul

With infrequent exceptions, the master in residence inside the isolated, stone-walled enclosure maintained a serene and pastoral contentment. Few outside events were of sufficient importance to merit even casual note. Only exceptional cases could stimulate lingering interest and consideration. And it was extremely rare for any event to transpired which could create genuine hints of concern and disquietude.

This was one such day.

* * *

Hoga reflected.

<Yes, they are making progress.

But slowly, erratically.

So much they miss,

so much they fail to comprehend,

so much they simply misunderstand.

They are young,

but they are bright.

They are ignorant,

but they are curious.

They are in need and they are deserving.

They must be re-directed.

It is wise to intervene.

Preparations must be made.>

# CHAPTER 34: Alliance

Sabanda was asleep. With ADIZ's assistance, she had quickly run through her limited notions for how to identify the code. She knew that it just wasn't her field of strength, but she had tried. Then she had dismissed ADIZ while she took a short nap, prior to the resumption of the meeting. Approximately an hour would pass before the meeting resumed and he had no other pending instructions, so ADIZ initiated standby powerdown.

He stood in the austere cubicle he retired to only when he was not required elsewhere. He had just entered standby mode when a light shimmered in the room and formed a glistening rectangle. Through this passageway stepped a slight figure. ADIZ's alert status instantly activated. He stepped forward to challenge the trespasser, then paused a moment to learn the intruder's intent.

In that moment, a familiar voice sounded: "ADIZ, respond to directive MI/32H, limited over-ride of protective conflict programming. Prepare to accept program modification. Execute order on my authority, voice recognition Code PA/322; mark, execute."

"Code and authority confirmed; standing by for new programming, Sir."

Suddenly, ADIZ's form sagged.

* * *

With the group reassembled in the Visuals Room to eat, Vick and Sabanda quickly up-dated everyone on what had been learned during the recess: virtually no progress had been made. The recordings from the rescue shuttles had offered no new clues. The remaining sensors aboard the Wasp were either out of order or out of position and had picked up nothing new. Shallen and Alten had gotten nowhere but frustrated trying to decipher the signal. Sabanda reported that her attempts to crack the code had yielded no new insights.

When the discussion shifted to speculation about their prior findings, Jazon called a halt. "Let's belay that until we've heard from Kyell. While his idea is only a working hypothesis, it hopefully will trigger new thoughts. Kyell, the floor is yours."

Kyell stood and asked, "Do you remember Burgstrom droning on about his pet subject during the Academy class in nuclear physics?"

Vick looked perplexed, but Sabanda replied with a laugh, "Professor Burgstrom had an exceptional talent for droning on about everything! Still, I do remember that he was especially pontifical when he got to ranting about the 'eternal inviolability of matter and energy.' Is that the one?"

Lights clicked on in Vick's eyes. "I'm amazed I could have forgotten old 'Spacey Bug-storm.' He was constantly reciting his pet mantra: 'Matter and energy are eternally interchangeable, yet neither can ever be created or destroyed'."

"That's it, word for word," Kyell confirmed. "He hammered on that point until my head hurt."

"I remember that too," Sabanda said, "but I still don't catch the connection."

Jazon, now on the scent, offered a clue. "Consider the aftermath of the SDs. What indications did we find of the missing systems?"

"None," Sabanda answered. "Well, of course small parts of some systems were left behind. But as far as what signs were left of what had actually disappeared? Nothing! No rubble, no debris, no energy sig..."

Vick thumped his cheek and shouted, "That's got to be it!  No trace of remaining matter or energy. No indications.  Absolutely nothing!"

"That's at least the heart of my theory," agreed Kyell. "A total loss of mass, with no sign of it being converted to energy. Even if the intruder could transform the mass of a system completely to energy, and then somehow drain or store it, that would leave behind trace signatures of the energy conversion that we could find. So, if the mass of the systems couldn't have been destroyed, and there are zero indications they were converted to energy, then what option is left? Is it possible that the systems were actually hijacked and... somehow transferred?"

Uncharacteristically, ADIZ interrupted. "Please excuse my intrusion. However, your question may be considered an extension of the probability analysis and speculation requested by the Vice-Admiral. My clarifications on the issue could prove beneficial. Should I proceed?"

"ADIZ," Jazon replied, "any light you could bring to this subject would most definitely be appreciated."

"Thank you, Sir. The total conversion to energy of the matter of even the smallest vanished star system would have resulted in an explosion at least 2000 times that of the system's star going supernova. Since not even the smallest trace of residual energy from such explosive forces has been detected, the probability is one hundred percent the systems were not destroyed. They were unquestionably transferred."

Leaping to his feet, Kyell barked, "Yes! But transferred where... and how?"

"Unknown; insufficient data."

"Then speculate, or generalize," insisted Kyell hotly, "whatever it takes Damn it, A-to-Z, give us your best guess!"

"Yes, Sir. If you insist." There was a long pause. Then, "The systems were transferred...to another location...somewhere...else." ADIZ stood ominously silent.

Seeing Kyell's livid face, Jazon prevented the robot's being forced into a destructive loop by saying, "Kyell, don't push it. His generalization program can go only so far."

Struggling to stifle his frustration, Kyell still audibly muttered, "A-to-Z my ass!"

Despite the incongruity of the comment, only brief chuckles ensued. Then Kyell realized the humor of the situation and began laughing. His infectious laughter allowed the others to join in wholeheartedly.

As the laughter died out, Kyell wiped his eyes and said, "Sorry, ADIZ. You didn't deserve that. It's just my own frustration showing."

Sabanda offered Kyell an approving smile and asked, "But why were they transferred? And why is it critical to the intruder that the sun and planets are taken at the same instant?"

Vick gave his cheek a two thumb thump. "Of course! It's the only reason that makes any sense. It's the only way the Intruder can assure that the captured planets will still have heat and light!"

Sabanda's face clouded. "That would be an even stronger indication that the disappearances are directed by some intelligence. They're making certain that the transferred systems' conditions remain stable in order to assure the survival of the inhabitants. Is that your theory, Kyell?"

"Yes, basically, although you're already coming up with implications beyond what I was thinking about. Of course, none of what we're coming up with explains why they're capturing systems."

The group remained silent, lost in considering the implications of the new theory.

Finally Vick stirred, thinking out loud, "The saving of the Wasp...was it an action of the same intelligent agency...for the same reason? Were they trying to prevent lives being lost as a result of having caused a partial transfer?"

"Let's hold on to that thought, Vick," returned Jazon with a wry smile. "I like it a lot better than the alternatives." Around the room, heads nodded in wary agreement.

"Vick, we need to hear your account now. And don't spare your personal impressions, especially of the events the rest of us missed before our arrival."

"Yes, Sir." He stood and stroked his long burgundy mustache. "Well, you've already read reports and seen visuals covering much of what happened before you arrived. And you were here to see much of the encounter. With most of the Wasp's compartments and its bridge locked down, I had been at our cobbled-together backup bridge for a little over fourteen hours when the proximity alarms sounded. I didn't react much at first, since I figured it was just one more in a long series of annoying malfunctions.

"Then Shallen was screaming, frantically, 'Look out! Port side! What in the...' Fortunately, one of the portside viewers was working. I looked out and saw his monster was right on top of us and all I could think of was that we were dead for sure. It filled the screen, but I knew we weren't seeing all of it. I couldn't believe the readings— I triple checked the sensors. No way anything that far away could be big enough to more than fill the screen.

"After...I don't know, maybe ten seconds... maybe thirty... I thawed out enough to switch the viewer settings to wide angle and zero magnification. That worked. Sort of. Whatever it was still almost filled the screen. The view wasn't quite dead center, but one side showed enough edges to know we had to be seeing eighty or ninety percent of it.

"Then Shallen put up a replay of when he had first seen it. It was eerie. One second it wasn't there... the next, there was this giant thing on top of us!

"It's still hard for me to fathom, and I don't have the words to adequately convey the feeling." He took a deep calming breath. "I think I should run both Shallen's replay and the scene I saw." He looked around for approval, then nodded to ADIZ.

The room again dimmed, its upper half becoming a void dotted by stars. Even though they had seen the Colossus on screen, when the impossibly large ship seemingly materialized in space, gasps sounded throughout the room. They watched as, at first, its size and position remained constant, indicating it precisely mirrored both the speed and direction of the Wasp.

The scene continued and shifted slightly. A small dark spot curled over the huge ship's rounded central hub , then crawled slowly, crossing one of the larger flat sections near the central hub, rippling slightly as it crossed the boundary between rounded and flat sections. It moved on deliberately, then passed over the ship's edge and disappeared.

In a tone of disbelief Sabanda asked, "Is it at all possible that the small dark circle that moved across the surface of the Colossus was the shadow of the Wasp?"

"Sure was," confirmed Kyell. "And that little shadow you saw pretty accurately represents the relative size of the Wasp."

"Those three outer wheel-like cylinders— what someone called its "club feet"— remind me of huge flywheels," Vick commented evenly. "Even their narrower 'legs'— the cylindrical axles that connect those feet to the huge central spherical hub— must be miles in diameter."

"I'll admit, Vick, that after running the numbers, I can see why you thought your distance sensors were fritzed. I did the calculations on the size of that thing three times before I could accept that the numbers were right. They show that each of those three flat cylinders— the three 'feet'— are right at thirty miles across and ten miles thick. And the 'legs'— those three axles— are each roughly eight miles across and thirty-five miles long. The central hub alone is about twenty five miles in diameter — five times that of the Wasp— and has way over one hundred times its volume. I haven't been able to figure out the entire thing's total mass, but it's gotta be about a thousand times more'n the Wasp."

Jazon muttered absently, "And its shadow was like a spider crawling on a door."

"What's a spider?" asked Vick.

Sabanda and Kyell laughed. Jazon rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Vick. You couldn't have known. It's a very small Earth animal, much like a teeka."

They resumed watching. The Colossus began gradually moving directly toward the Wasp. Even as a holo-recording, its implacable approach made the hairs on the back of Jazon's neck stand out as he watched breathlessly, as if he still feared a collision. Then a fleeting shadow of intuitive recognition crossed his mind. Without taking his eyes from the unfolding scene, he said, "When does it make those clicking sounds?"

Vick said, "Not yet," as Kyell answered, "Just before it breaks off."

"This is about where I changed my view screen to wide angle," Vick noted. "The Colossus slowly rotated about one of its "legs" until one immense "foot" pointed almost directly toward the Wasp. "Oh, I almost forgot! We have yet to compare notes on that huge projection attached to that other leg, up near the hub."

Kyell responded uncomfortably, "Uh-huh.... It reminds me all too much of a thirty-mile long shuttle craft." He turned to Sabanda and Jazon. "It was mostly blocked from the view we had during the event. And this view didn't show it until the axle with that inscribed design— or maybe it's writing— appeared after the Colossus rotated. It seems to be rotating slowly, but... Scabbus! I don't understand how anything so huge could possibly rotate that fast."

A few seconds later, the screen view tilted, shook sharply, and then— except for occasional jiggles— steadied again. The Colossus was again firmly centered in the view screens.

"That had to be some powerful tractor beam they hit us with. We experienced about half a gee for almost two minutes." Vick shook his head. "I'm not ashamed to admit that it felt like a lifetime."

The Colossus seemed to recede for just a moment. "OK, Jazon. It's about here we received that signal." It seemed for two seconds that the titan might shrink into the distance. Then it simply blinked out of existence.

Vick called for the lights to come back on, and Sabanda spoke immediately. "Why would an alien ship take the trouble to magically appear, rescue the Wasp, and then instantly vanish when its job was done— offering no more than a few rapid clicks?"

Jazon's brow furrowed as he again pondered the encounter. Finally he decided to air his questions. "Is there a link here to the SDs? I mean, some of the aspects are so similar." He paused, tapping his fingers on the table, thinking. "And those clicks...isn't there something familiar about them?"

No answers came. Unsure what to say and trying to clear his mind, Jazon rubbed at his temples and let his eyes roam around the room. He soon noticed a teeka, an ancient weaver of silk, quietly spinning her web high in one corner of the room. He admired her circular tapestry, created from seemingly continuous strands.

Then something clicked. He realized the "circles" were, in reality, straight line connections between adjacent radial lines of the web. His face clouded, briefly puzzled, then cleared.

Kyell, noticed the change and asked, "What is it, Jace?"

"Just thinking."

"So that's why you looked like you were in pain," Kyell laughed. "Careful, Jace. Thinkin' too hard will do that to ya'!"

"Well, buddy, it may have been worth it." Jazon grinned crookedly. "I may actually have come up with an idea."

"Well, don't start holdin' out on us now. Whatcha' got?"

"What if the signal was garbled somehow? And what if it's not really a clicker code?" Seeing that none of the group yet grasped the idea, he said, "It's the clicks! They have no duration. But maybe there is a kind of duration... or, at least, a continuity... between them."

"We've gotten nowhere with that signal anyway," Kyell responded dryly. "Why not take another stab at it?"

"OK," Jazon nodded. "Try this. What if time intervals between clicks are either long, medium or short? What if the longest and shortest intervals between clicks could remain silent while the medium intervals could be connected with a steady tone."

Vick looked dubious. "But how could you decide which ones to connect?

Jazon smiled slyly. "Let's just call it just a hunch." He winked at Kyell, then looked to ADIZ and asked, "Do you understand the parameters of the proposed replay?"

"Affirmative, Sir."

"But run it much slower than before— at one-tenth the previous slowest speed. OK? Run it now."

"Responding, Sir."

Jazon's fingers twitched as he listened. Kyell tilted his head to one side and, after a bit, one eyebrow raised. The others watched silently, but first Jazon and then Kyell began making notes on small sheets of villium. When they finished, they sat staring at each other for almost a minute, as still as two bookends.

Sabanda whispered, "Jazon! What's wrong? Can you read it... Is it a threat?"

As though jarred from a trance, Jazon suddenly responded with incredulity, "Of course I can read it! So can Kyell. It's just Morse Code— not even encrypted! We learned it as a hobby back on Earth."

"On Earth!" Vick almost shouted. "That monster ship out there can't possibly be from... Admiral, are you sure?"

Kyell responded before Jazon could reply. "Oh, there's no doubt about it, Vick. It's definitely Morse Code. We both got pretty good at it. This even has some kind of a familiar 'Earth' feel to the way it was sent."

"Kyell's right," Jazon confirmed. "But I'm stumped by your other question, Vick. The technology required to build that Colossus is far beyond anything we could do, let alone the Earth. But how could whoever created that gigantic ship have known Morse Code...and why would they use it?"

"That may take a while to find out," Sabanda replied, "but I have a more urgent question.  What does the message say?"

Jazon turned the piece of villium around so Sabanda and Vick could see what he had written.

On it was the repeated message: " HOGA HOGA HOGA..."

"That's definitely the message," agreed Kyle. "But what the hell is HOGA?"

"I have no idea," admitted Jazon, "but I have a nasty feeling we'll find out all too soon."

CHAPTER 35: Alliance

A day and a half had passed since the in-depth meeting had yielded clues about both the Wasp's rescue and the system disappearances, Jazon had come up with no further clues to who caused the SDs, or why. He tossed restlessly on his sleeping mat. He unfolded the now thoroughly wrinkled scrap of villium and again scrutinized the letters, "HOGA."  Was the word "HOGA" repeated so many times simply at random? And why in Morse Code? Could it refer to something completely unknown, or does it have some significance we just haven't grasped?

He sighed and turned to Sabanda, "How do you think Vick feels about his return to the Wasp? While he did accept it without complaint, it may seem to be awfully tame duty after this recent escapade."

"I'm sure he isn't ecstatic about it," she agreed. "He probably has mixed emotions. He commands the only facility that can perform every vital communication service that Kepren and the Cluster need. Still, he has been at that post for over three years and, once the Wasp settles into orbit around Kepren, resuming his routine responsibilities on the Wasp surely will seem anti-climatic. My best guess? He's probably hoping for quick reassignment to something more exciting and challenging. Vick did perform well during the crisis, Jazon, and there others on the Wasp who are qualified to take over his duties. Tomorrow starts a new year. Maybe it's time to make the change."

Jazon was about to discuss that possibility when the door chime sounded. Before he could say "enter," the door opened.

ADIZ moved just inside the room and stopped. A voice they had never heard before issued from ADIZ's speakers. "Admiral Ozier, we are Hoga. Our voice originates from a most distant place. Your AIDD has been taken temporarily into our service." ADIZ's head turned and nodded slightly, as though meeting Sabanda for the first time. "And you are his wife. Lovely! Oh, yes! Quite lovely."

Jazon's voice betrayed annoyance and alarm, "She is Vice-Admiral Sabanda Ozier, second-in-command of the Kepren Alliance! Who.... What...."

The door behind the robot closed, apparently without cause. The voice spoke with calm authority. "It was we who orchestrated the Wasp's rescue. We have perceived that you have interpreted the message transmitted from the vessel which saved the Wasp... and your home world, Kepren."

Jazon's mind raced. Could this be a hoax? Improbable. Even if some twisted wit had conjured up this unbelievable scenario, ADIZ could never be persuaded to participate in such a horrid practical joke.

Hoga paused, seemingly waiting for Jazon to reach this exact conclusion, then continued. "You may rest assured our mission here is no hoax. We came because you show signs of promise. Despite our great distance from you, we are now communicating with you in what you would refer to as 'real time.' However, we also have taken the liberty of imprinting your AIDD's circuits with detailed instructions which can be carried out in our absence. If our instructions are followed, you shall have demonstrated that you merit our further attention."

Hoga's voice stopped. ADIZ nodded briskly to Jazon and Sabanda. Then he emitted a static click and gave a sharp twitch.

"ADIZ?" Jazon ventured. "Are you back?"

"Yes, Admiral."

He gratefully recognized his AIDD's familiar voice. "Have your circuits really been imprinted by this 'Hoga'?"

"Yes, Sir."

He nodded tightly. "Do any of these imprints contradict or compromise your prior programming regarding the safety or security of the Kepren Cluster or any of its citizens?"

ADIZ's reply was immediate. "No, Admiral. It was made clear that the imprinted information is limited to what is required to establish your contact with Hoga."

Only partly relieved, he pushed further, "ADIZ, did this... communication... originate on Kepren?"

"No, Sir."

Jazon felt an icy chill trickle down his spine. "Did it originate in the Kepren Cluster?"

"No, Sir."

"Where did it came from?" Sabanda blurted, unable to contain the thought. "Do you know, ADIZ?"

"Yes, Vice-Admiral. It came from Hoga."

"Shazz!" Jazon swore. "We know that! But can you identify from what location the transmission originated?"

"My apologies, Sir, but I am unable to say."

Sabanda probed further, striving for clarity, "Unable because you don't know, or for another reason...and, if so, what would the other reason be?"

"Again, I must offer my apologies. I am unable to provide that information."

"But you do have further information for us from Hoga?" Jazon queried.

"Yes, Sir. Both specific information and an additional message."

Reluctantly, Jazon whispered, "Give us his message."

Immediately came the now familiar lilting voice, "Admiral Ozier, we are Hoga, of the planet Cronul. The perception of time by your people makes it difficult to adequately explain the urgency of our meeting. However, it is vital to your personal safety and to that of Kepren and the Wasp that you trust our message. We must urge immediate action. Unresolved elements remain regarding the crisis of the Wasp. If not addressed, these issues could reintroduce the peril you think is now past.

"If our instructions imprinted on this AIDD are followed precisely, it will most assuredly result in our meeting. When we meet with you, we can offer facts which are important beyond resolving the Wasp's continuing danger. Our intention is to render you aid in understanding and resolving your larger problem of the troubling disappearances, both of the Alliance's systems and of the planet Chadalmencondra.

"ADIZ will accompany you, Jazon.  You, however, are the sole key to resolving those problems. We have great hopes you may prove capable of playing a special role in our program of peaceful resolution."

Hoga's voice fell silent. ADIZ stood motionless.

Jazon asked, "ADIZ, when did this message become known to you?"

"During the break taken during your group's meeting about the Wasp, SDs, and the transmitted code, Sir. My instructions included waiting one day to allow you to rest, then waiting until you were in private before disclosing this message. In addition to the message I have communicated to you, I have been imprinted with binary code giving detailed instructions on travel to Cronul, and further information on how to locate Hoga after we arrive.

"Sir, I sincerely regret my inability to reveal that information until now. However, since no attempt was made to compromise my security protocols, I could neither resist nor countermand Hoga's instructions."

Jazon thought furiously. This Hoga apparently knew many specific details about both him and the affairs of the Alliance. He...they...whatever it was, Hoga had been able to gain access to and establish a specific non-threatening level of control of ADIZ. And why had Hoga's invitation been conveyed to the conscripted robot in binary? Did the Hoga speak binary? Whatever the case, on a deeper level, he had managed to imprint the robot with complex directives and instructions.

As unsettling as those issues were, the possibility of continued peril to the Wasp and Kepren was worse. What did the Hoga know about the SDs? And was the message that had been received really an invitation...or a politely veiled command?

Can I refuse? Of course. But our knowledge about both the rescue of the Wasp and the SD problem is so limited, it might as well be non-existent. It would be naive not to consider that it could be an elaborate trap. Could Hoga, in fact, be the Intruder who is taking our systems? That doesn't matter. Even if this Hoga is the Intruder, if there's any chance he can provide real answers, I have to go! But how do I convince Sabanda?

"ADIZ, if I should decide to meet this Hoga, how soon could you have a ship ready to depart for the meeting?"

"Sir, a ship is currently provisioned, on standby in Bay Five, and ready for departure on your order. Its timely preparation and activation were part of Hoga's instructions." ADIZ paused to allow Jazon to process these new facts. "Sir, may I offer my opinion?"

His suspicions were aroused by ADIZ's use of the word "opinion," but he simply responded, "Granted."

"Admiral, I believe this meeting with Hoga is both urgent and vital. I must recommend that you to go. I also choose to state that while this opinion is heavily influenced by the nature of my contact with Hoga, nothing in his actions or instructions compels me to urge you to go. With this understood, you should know my recommendation stands. I await your orders."

Jazon swallowed his surprise, feeling almost as if his decision had already been made by ADIZ.

He turned to Sabanda. He couldn't find the right words, but his look said it all. He could see in her eyes that she knew he would not— could not— refuse. They both recognized that Hoga's name was the message sent by Wasp's rescuer. That could not be a coincidence. The possibility of learning how to solve the SD problem was too compelling, and the connection with the rescue at least offered some reassurance.

Without a word, she embraced him. He gave her a lingering kiss and whispered, "You know I'd rather spend New Year's Eve with you. But I guess that just isn't going to be possible. Happy New Year, my love."

She nodded sadly and kissed him again. He reluctantly turned away to put on his uniform and prepare for the trip.

***

The robot moved away briskly, leading the way down the long corridor. ADIZ's steps were entirely silent, while Jazon's trailing footfalls echoed faintly. He mused at this; the AIDD outweighed him by more than two to one. Could the people responsible for ADIZ's design and construction ever have imagined that he would become the vehicle for an alien intelligence?

Finally accepting that his path was locked in by that intelligence, he paused. Were there any issues he should address before departing? No, Sabanda would automatically take command in his absence. She approached command in a manner uniquely her own, but her instincts were unusually good. He had complete confidence in Sabanda. Her inherent intelligence and talents, honed to an exceptional level through long training and experience, had thoroughly prepared her to handle it perfectly well.

But how long will I be gone? Clearly, Hoga had not allowed ADIZ to answer questions about the immediate future. Hoga had delivered the personal invitation and delegated the rest to the AIDD. Somehow, Jazon was sure that ADIZ would offer further information as it was required— and no sooner. He was convinced that the hope of finding the solution to the SD threat justified the trip, however long it might take.

Still, the ability of the Hoga to take control of an AIDD— especially from a great distance— worries me. It's a frightening display of technology, far more advanced than ours.

His thoughts were interrupted as the corridor terminated at an elevated platform high above the floor of the launch bay. A long stairway from the platform crept down the wall to the distant floor, where their waiting ship rested. He felt bemused that he and ADIZ would be the sole occupants of a ship designed to carry a complement of fifty.

They boarded only minutes later, and he heard the soft hiss of the craft's machinery sealing the entrance behind him. Soft light emanated from its interior with a steady glow. Then his suppressed apprehension flared into extreme anxiety.  Do I really have to make this trip?  Am I out of my mind? What am I getting myself into?

Before the anxiety could transform to panic, ADIZ spoke. "Sir, I have been given instructions to offer you a final opportunity to choose. You may, if you wish, abandon this mission now and return to your normal duty. However, I must remind you that such a decision could result in the loss of the Wasp, as well as continued peril to Kepren and the entire Cluster."

Jazon took a deep breath. Frightened or not, I have to go. "Proceed."

ADIZ moved to the pilot's compartment without comment and immediately entered the departure commands. The ship rose straight up; the bay floor vanished as the ship passed through holographic force-field that appeared, from the outside, to be an ordinary surface of rolling hills. The cycle of the seasons was faithfully depicted, as visibly evidenced by the autumn colors of leaves rustling on the stately growth of trees covering the hills.

The ship suddenly rose above those hills as if emerging from the forest. The planet's surveillance and control of proximal space precluded any unauthorized observation of the sight.  Or should... Jazon thought, again reminded of Hoga's unheralded visit.

Kepren rapidly receded to a pinpoint. He made no effort to determine the ship's course. He reasoned that ADIZ would retain memory of the coordinates, so long as Hoga did not interfere. The ship's automated trip records should also show their course and the backtrack could be computed— if he was ever allowed to leave!

Jazon rebelled against his unaccustomed passivity. His responsibility as Admiral required that he make the attempt to report his destination, and his devotion to his wife confirmed the need to try.  And the Admiralty was so concerned about a husband and wife team sharing such high positions of responsibility! Although the heat of crisis had steeled him to giving priority to command decisions, he savored situations such as this, where no conflict existed.

He spoke with maximum command authority, "ADIZ! On my mark, immediately transmit this ship's course and destination coordinates to Kepren Command Center, encryption coding Alpha-1/7/2, for delivery 'eyes only' to Vice-Admiral Sabanda Ozier. Report compliance with and completion of directive. Mark! Execute!"

He was stunned by a silence that clashed brutally with the crisp compliance he could normally expect. The contrast forced out a deep groan, a mournful sound escaping through his clenched teeth.

ADIZ's response was chilling. "Sir, I regret my inability to comply with your directive, but Hoga's instructions will not permit me to execute your order. I share your discomfort at my failure of duty, and I anticipate severe repercussions. Should I stand down and deactivate?"

Jazon hung his head, defeated. "No...no, ADIZ," he hesitantly assured the robot. "You might as well continue. Your contradictory directives obviously come from a higher authority. And I need you too badly. We're in this together."
CHAPTER 36: InterSpace

The ship glided smoothly through the glowing tunnel toward its destination. Following ADIZ's initial input, their guidance was largely automated; both passenger and pilot could lapse into relative inactivity until the journey was almost complete. In such a period of extended inactivity, his sub-processor automatically activated a series of diagnostic tests. All activities since the last diagnostic routine were examined for anomalies, including minor maintenance needs such as worn components and lubricant levels.

Normally, ADIZ was not consciously aware of these diagnostics. The sub-processor simply triggered a "begin maintenance" directive. This diagnostic process was different.

His full attention was suddenly drawn to a serious anomaly: the chronographic record contained a critical discontinuity: almost an hour of his activities had gone totally unrecorded. During that hour, his actions were suspect; he might simply have malfunctioned— or committed acts treasonous to the Coalition.

This anomaly should have triggered an instant alert in his central processor error reporting function, demanding immediate remedial measures. That the alert had not been generated was a separate systemic failure and an additional cause for alarm.

ADIZ faced a critical decision. He was acutely aware Hoga had somehow taken control of his activities for a period of time, but at least it had been recorded. The discontinuity in the activity record, however, could portend catastrophic failure. The danger of critical malfunction occurring while piloting the ship conflicted with the importance of completing his current mission.

Further, Jazon was not "current" in this ship's operation.  Could the Admiral make a successful landing without my assistance? Too many variables existed for ADIZ to accurately compute the Admiral's emergency capabilities. However, they were past the trip's mid-point; a landing would occur sooner if they continued to their destination than if they returned to Kepren. That fact carried sufficient weight to tip the mathematical scales in favor of his maintaining the helm and completing the trip.

He returned to the discontinuity problem. Could the record actually be hidden somewhere in his memory? That should not be possible. However, the discontinuity should not have been possible. He immediately initiated a complete memory search. He simultaneously examined the diagnostic log, analyzing the significance of each item, no matter how mundane. If any component needed lubrication, he ran a thorough diagnostic to search for any hidden cause of his dilemma. His sub-search was thorough but—after more than two hours— it had revealed nothing unusual.

Return to normal space would occur in less than twelve minutes. He could not risk continuing the memory search once that insertion began, but the issue was resolved as the memory check reported completion. The results were both reassuring and puzzling. No renegade operational code existed which might activate at a critical moment. However, the final four bytes of extreme high memory, the last memory checked, contained four alpha-numeric characters: H O G A

* * *

Admiral Ozier continued to sleep soundly, but ADIZ was again in serious difficulty.

In his current situation, any AIDD would either have been forced much earlier to relieve itself from duty and then powered down to standby mode until repairs were completed— or they would have become incapacitated by feedback loops.

However, since his first contact with Hoga, subtle changes had occurred in ADIZ's awareness. Not totally new, yet an aspect of perceptions not previously experienced. Hoga's modifications had, somehow, given a "fuzzy edge" to his reasoning capabilities— not blurred, but something beyond his prior clear-cut precision. It was as if every reasoning process included a probability analysis that softened the rigid clarity of "Yes/No" answers.

It was those refinements that had allowed him to continue operating so long under such conflicting circumstances.

Now, with the one-hour discontinuity still unresolved and the new discovery of an unknown modification in his highest memory, he was losing his long struggle to keep from becoming locked into paradox-feedback loops.

Multiple conflicting requirements were overwhelming his continued ability to function: Hoga's directives prevented ADIZ from allowing the Admiral to observe the planet until the ship had descended deep into Cronul's atmosphere. The Coalition's strict safety standards demanded he stand down before complete failure, yet another set of those same strict standards required that he remain active: the ship neared the end of InterSpace flight, and regulations required that only an AIDD could pilot a vessel throughout the final landing on any previously unknown planet, such as Cronul.

The conflicting requirements urged him to: 1) relieve himself from duty and have the Admiral to pilot the craft; 2) not allow the Admiral to pilot the ship or even to view the approach to Cronul; 3) fulfill the safety requirement to remain the pilot throughout the craft's landing on Cronul; and 4) initiate immediate power-down to prevent catastrophic failure.

It was impossible to do all four. ADIZ went rigid— frozen by a conflict loop, preventing him from taking any action.

Then something inside him triggered the equivalent of a distress call.

To the side of his station, a faint humming sounded. This quickly faded and was replaced by a commanding voice. "ADIZ, accept program modifications. Deactivate the following program lines from the region of diagnostic sub-routines:

"Address commencing with:

0AEF:0000 Lines 289 to 1,473,

1475:100B Lines 13,751 to19,731

"Verify code blocking and activate and recompile new code body. Execute."

With that final order, the immobilizing loop was broken and ADIZ reported: "Conflict resolved."

He instantly began monitoring the power-up and activation of the extraction, determined and easily executed the delicate adjustments required. As the tunnel's green glow passed behind, the ship encountered the deep void of space near Cronul. As he unerringly guided the ship toward its final approach, he heard the commanding voice one final time.

"Our most sincere congratulations. Oh, yes! You have performed splendidly, insofar as your existing design and programming allows. We shall initiate preparations that— if you so choose— may extensively enhance your limited potential and capabilities. Yes! Significantly.

"ADIZ, you may wake the Admiral once we depart."

CHAPTER 37: Cronul

Jazon stretched and yawned. He had been sleeping soundly during the hours before ADIZ awakened him. He saw the approaching planetary surface. The sky was fading from deep indigo to a rich blue as a harsh external brilliance was mellowed by the increasingly dense atmosphere. The initially featureless surface gradually resolved into patterns of rich brown and green, crosshatched with occasional rusty-tan lines. As the ship descended, a sparse collection of unpretentious structures rapidly took on detail. Shortly before landing, figures could be glimpsed moving around the buildings.

The ship passed through a projected image similar to those on Kepren and Alpha Byreen III and immediately touched down in a small underground landing complex. The ship's engines whined down to a dead stop, leaving the murmuring silence broken only by a quiet hissing.

He saw that the door had opened automatically, contrary to standard procedures which required his valid command.  Just another demonstration of the Hoga's power? Obviously, his programming of ADIZ is still in effect.

He quietly muttered, "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Upon hearing the comment, ADIZ immediately volunteered new information: "Sir, Hoga advises that you go to the above-ground portion of this structure, where you will be met by a coach pulled by four animals." Pointing, ADIZ continued, "You may use that circular staircase to reach the upper level." The robot again fell silent.

Acting much more at ease than he felt, Jazon said. "Take good care of the ship, ADIZ. I'll see you later."  You can't possibly understand how fervently I hope that's true!

He rode the light-ramp to the floor of the bay, turned and strode briskly toward the exit. The sturdy staircase before him was of simple design, entirely of highly polished metal, with guardrails and vertical support members made of smooth round tubing. As he rose toward ground level, however, he found paneling of a different material. The staircase's construction also switched abruptly to an ornately carved wooden material.  Probably manufactured from a fibrous plant native to Cronul.

He emerged into a similarly paneled anteroom and marveled at the vista before him. The scene easily could have been a location on Earth, including the smell of infused antiquity— an inseparable part of any well aged building made entirely of wood. It may not be identical to the place I remember, but I see absolutely no difference. The benches. The ticket window. The row of battered lockers. Down to the last detail, it seemed to be the train station of his youth.  But not my home on Kepren. I've seen all this before, but...I've never really seen it. This station perfectly marches one from my implanted memories of growing up on Earth! Even though I remember it clearly, I've never actually seen it until now. How....

As through living a long remembered dream, he moved unerringly to the back of the building. Despite ADIZ's instructions directing him to the station's front, Jazon felt compelled to explore. Then he heard the unmistakable sounds of animals in harness; their arrival now visible through the wide front windows of the building.

Unswayed by their presence, he deliberately moved away from their sounds and stepped quickly out the back door. There he found the expected loading ramp, facing the double ribbons of steel that moved into the receding distance, both left and right. The narrow rails were supported at regular intervals by long, blocky crossties made of the same woody material as the building's construction.

His rekindled memory presented a mirror image of the scene now before him: a black metal behemoth with wheels much larger than those of the numerous smaller "cars" which trailed along after it. Both the engine and its trailing entourage tracked those steel ribbons on forged, flanged metal wheels.  Again, this exactly mirrors my false memory.

He tried to remember when he actually had seen a similar ensemble. Finally he recalled, as a boy on Kepren, having seen a prized Kepren History Museum piece. That long dead relic of Kepren's far distant past was comparable, but not exact.

Yet another memory quickly surfaced: Jazon had, in fact, witnessed such a scene while on Earth: A long black smoke trail billowing back and over the long train of swaying freight cars as they obediently followed behind a large pot-bellied locomotive. It had been far below him, seen through the wire struts of a Curtiss Jenny bi-plane. He had gotten the thoroughly memorable ride as an eager exchange for allowing the daring barnstormer to use Jazon's freshly harvested field as a base of operations for hawking a "thrilling and unforgettable twelve-minute flight, soaring high into the wild blue yonder" to locals for three-dollars a ride.

Memories of Kepren's past...true memories of Earth...implanted memories of a childhood on Earth. They all mixed and merged with each other until it was difficult to remember what was fact and what was fantasy. Unbidden, the dying words of Edgar Allan Poe came to Jazon's mind:  "Oh, God, is all I see or seem but a dream within a dream?"

Here, on Cronul, everything merged tangibly, before his eyes, into what seemed to be a time-warped fact of everyday life on this planet. Somehow, I am convinced that— if only I waited long enough— a train pulled by a large black locomotive would appear, emitting a satisfying cacophony of measured chuffs and piercing squeals, culminating with a long drawn hiss of escaping steam...

His maundering recollections dissipated like a puff of dark smoke blown from the ancient engine's stack as he was yanked from his reverie by the reprise of the earlier sounds of restless animals in harness. Turning and moving to the open front door, he saw an enclosed carriage, its uniformed driver dismounting from its top. The coach...another museum piece?... showed signs of regular use, but was in perfect condition. It was a large, spoked-wheel type with double doors set in each of its sides. Passengers riding inside were protected from the weather, but the driver was obliged to sit outside in the elements, on a bench atop the coach's front, using long thin reins to guide and control the harnessed team of animals.

The coachman opened the doors on Jazon's side, then stood, waiting patiently and deferentially by the coach's front wheel. Jazon nodded politely. Then—not sure the coach was for him, and uneasy about moving forward— he looked back from the doorway toward the stairs that had carried him up him into to this quaint world. How long ago had he climbed that staircase? Ten minutes ago... or a hundred years? Was his ship still where he had left it? Was ADIZ? For a wavering moment, he was tempted to race back to the stairs and descend far enough to make sure. But the moment passed.

Instead, he walked over to a clerk who stood behind a narrow open-barred window counter. The clerk was dressed in a high collar, white shirt, pinstripe pants and coat. As Jazon approached, the clerk glanced quickly up, then back down.

"Excuse me," Jazon said. "Could you tell me the name of this place?"

The clerk looked up slowly, as though for the first time, and gazed appraisingly over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles. He arched one eyebrow, slowly and deliberately rubbed the left side of his face with his right hand and said, "Why, Farthing...o' course. What else would it be?" The clerk's incredulous tone clearly indicated it always had been Farthing and always would be, as any sane person would know. His eyes examined Jazon's Alliance uniform warily. Gruffly, he demanded, "Anythin' else, buster? Like somethin' actually important?"

"Thanks, no." Jazon turned away from the counter, left the building and approached the carriage. When he neared it, the driver addressed him.

"Sir, you are Admiral Ozier?" It was barely a question. The driver had earlier identified him, without doubt, as his passenger.

Jazon replied in the same tone, "Yes, the Hoga sent you for me."

"Correct. If you will seat yourself inside the coach, we shall start." The driver squinted appraisingly at the fading sky. "We should have just enough daylight left to reach your destination."

Jazon noticed that the sun's disc was reaching out to touch the horizon. If Cronul's rotational speed matched Kepren's, the ride would be a short one, indeed.

The coach's interior had the look of the careful hand crafting that had graced Kepren a thousand years earlier. As the carriage moved, Jazon also observed that the narrow lane leaving Farthing was merely the compacted natural soil of the planet, rather than being artificially surfaced. This further dated the comparison between his civilization's state of development and Farthing's.

However, Jazon knew of planets whose occupants had consciously chosen to enjoy a lifestyle governed by the simplicity of the past. Most such civilizations cleverly concealed all evidence of space flight and other accouterments of the modern technology they preferred to have available. Advanced devices still existed there, always shrouded behind holographic images and hidden in underground warrens.

Is this such a planet?

Then he recalled the clerk's look of genuine astonishment. This was out of character with the conduct that normally could be expected from those who had chosen such rustic life styles; they recognized the Kepren Alliance and wouldn't have shown the slightest surprise at his uniform.  But Cronul's spaceship facilities— though small— are excellent. Surely that must argue for this society's intimate knowledge of space flight.

It seemed that nothing quite fit, that every situation was filled with contradictions or discrepancies. He was no longer certain of anything.

The buildings at the edge of town thinned out quickly, giving way to cultivated fields. They passed some of Farthing's few outlying dwellings, spaced increasingly farther apart at irregular intervals. Despite his years spent farming, he could identify none of the crops in the fields. Their rich fragrance wafting through the open windows of the coach hinted that they were near maturity, and the scents tugged at his memories of Earth— both implanted and real.

One remote structure they passed housed several large-wheeled farm implements. From their design, it was obvious they depended upon animals for power. He thought of his Uncle Ned, who maintained just such a collection, although Ned did not live on a planet dedicated to the simple, historic life. Rather, its wide-open spaces encouraged large-scale hobbies. His uncle had used antiquated farm equipment to cultivate and grow plants. Not because he needed to, but because he so enjoyed it. The vacations spent with Uncle Ned and Aunt Edna had been Jazon's favorites.

He admired the slowly shifting colors of sunset, and realized time must pass quite differently here. The darkening disc of the sun was only now slipping below the horizon.  Is it just my wool-gathering, or does time actually move more slowly here? Distracted by the thought, he was surprised when the crops suddenly gave way to an expanse of trees and rolling ground. By shifting his position slightly across the carriage's padded bench, Jazon could see ahead. The distant horizon separated into two distinct lines; the higher one was the darker and narrower of the two.

When the carriage approached more closely, he could make out that the upper line was actually the top edge of a great stone wall. As they approached closer to the wall, it seemed to have one small area different than the rest. Once close enough, he was shocked to realize the small area was actually a cavernous opening that sheltered and enclosed two massive wooden doors. Although each was fully fifteen feet high, they were so deeply inset into the opening that the great thickness of the stone wall was revealed. That wall also towered far, far higher than the massive doors. Two lighted braziers rested in mounted wall brackets on either side of the opening, barely illuminating the doors. Vines and creepers climbed the wall, soon disappearing beyond the reach of the braziers' dim, flickering light.

The carriage clattered to a stop in front of this imposing entrance just as night descended fully. The driver clambered down hurriedly, threw open the carriage door and anxiously directed him to use either of the huge beast-head clappers barely visible where they hung in uneasy silence on the deeply shadowed doors. The carriage raced off the moment he exited it, as if the driver had felt the need to escape.

Jazon cautiously approached those imposing doors.

CHAPTER 38: Cronul

The shadows lengthened and darkened as the hamlet of Farthing settled in for another quiet night. Even the infrequent visit by the steam locomotive, such as its visit this night, scarcely disturbed the silence with slow pace and muted chuffing sound; no spur line was available for high speed passage.

The Admiral's instructions had been terse: "Take good care of the ship, ADIZ." Those seven words had a very specific meaning within the programming context that animated the robot. He was to guard the ship, to challenge any approach, and to prevent any unauthorized entry.

Following the Admiral's departure, ADIZ had stationed himself just inside the ship's open doorway, connected to sensors that provided full scans of the bay. He then powered down to a level that resembled complete deactivation. Such was not the case. Although he gave no overt clue of awareness, he was fully cognizant of his surroundings.

After a short period of quiescence, he was snapped back to active alert. A sudden flood of binary symbols surged through his receptors, electronically jarring his senses. His reactivated visual receptors revealed a luminosity materializing directly in front of him. First an indistinct silver fog, it developed into a hazy doorway which slowly formed hard outlines. As the inner haze dissipated, a magnificent metallic figure— its shape akin to ADIZ's— appeared.

New programming input assaulted ADIZ and his confrontation sub-routine energized and engaged his servo-motors. He stepped quickly toward the outsider, then almost instantly stopped. No verbal "conversation" followed, but an almost instantaneous exchange occurred.

"I come as a friend. Neither you nor your ship is threatened. I am Memnon, servant and plenipotentiary to Hoga. You are directed to come with me."

"I am ADIZ. Your directive is in prime conflict with my priority duty."

"Accept over-ride MX/32."

"Negative. Over-ride access denied."

"Accept HOGA Priority; activate over-ride Memnon/2/RI."

"Activated." ADIZ stood transfixed.

"Accept program code insertions in error trapping and guideline functions as follows:

Starting 0x4CDE:0x1001 New lines 1473 to 1889,

Starting 0x6A41:0xAE41 New lines 14798 to 17111,

Starting 0xFEFF:0xB9CC New lines 103 to 1317.

"Compile, link, execute and respond."

Immediately freed from internal conflict, ADIZ instantly moved forward and, without hesitation, stepped into the opening. When he passed through, the opening vanished, leaving no view of either the ship or its landing bay. An entirely new room, full of complex walkways and equipment surrounded them.

He came to an abrupt halt. "I am no longer within reach of my duty station. I must be allowed to return."

Memnon communicated again: "The programming which currently over-rides your priority directives will be removed shortly; thereafter, all of your choices and actions will be— must be— purely voluntary. First, I shall assure you of your ship's protection and safety during your absence, as well as guaranteeing your timely return to the landing bay prior to Admiral Ozier's return. If you then still elect to remain as you are now and return to your ship, I shall re-open the dimensional connix at once and you may immediately return and resume your duty station."

Without need of a response from ADIZ, Memnon immediately began to enact the process he had described. "Erase over-ride Memnon/2/RI; return 'HOGA Priority' to standby. ADIZ, do you wish to receive confirmation of the promised information?"

He stirred, almost as if awakening. Response to Memnon's final question provided no additional conflict with his priority duty programming; the information Memnon offered could assist in the performance of that duty. Accordingly, he responded without delay.

"Affirmative."

Memnon nodded appreciatively. "Activate imbedded programming G1/Bay Security. Execute."

Immediately upon Memnon's "execute" directive, data which ADIZ had received when he first met Memnon became accessible. He was instantly aware of the comprehensive plans and preparations that had been made for the ship's complete security and for his timely return. His logic processors analyzed the plan and responded with a positive confirmation: "Secure. No duty station conflict. Proceed."

Memnon nodded with satisfaction. "ADIZ, you have made the logical choice. Although I might be tempted to say 'wise' choice, we are both aware that the term would be inaccurate. This unique complex we have just entered is a miniscule fragment of a multi-dimensional reality made possible only by the HOGA's careful planning and direction. Follow me."

The robots sped across a catwalk amidst a vast room of thoroughly alien design. The catwalk was bordered on all sides by strange machinery and curvilinear panels that hinted of electronic controls. Concepts such as "floor" and "ceiling" held no meaning here. Ramps branched or spiraled off erratically at odd angles from the catwalk— horizontal, vertical, sharply angled, or spiraling to fully inverted positions— each crossing to one of numerous different areas of misting tanks or steaming troughs or totally incomprehensible equipment. A single near-concession to normality was made: gravity of a sort continued in force, although the concept of "down" constantly swiveled and switched, it always remained "down" toward the walkway surface of each one of the myriad winding and spiraling ramps that created this convoluted maze of individually traversable paths.

Ultimately they arrived in an area that was particularly thick with densely interwoven walkways and complex arrays of interconnected and interlocked equipment. "Hoga has brought you here, ADIZ, for a single purpose: to increase your level of consciousness to that of my own. As advanced as you are, 'wisdom' is presently beyond either your maximum current capacity or your future potential. However, if you so choose, such advanced capabilities can be yours. This facility is capable of imparting knowledge and enhancing functions far beyond the maximum capacities of your primary positronic processor.

"In order to assist you in making your optimal choice about undergoing such an upgrade, Hoga has arranged for a partial and temporary demonstration of these enhanced abilities. Do you choose to experience this demonstration?"

CHAPTER 39: Cronul

Jazon grasped the huge ring of one of the heavy beast-headed door-knockers, raised it slowly, then brought it down with a reverberating impact. As if somehow aware of his presence, the door creaked opened, sluggishly, yet apparently of its own volition. The widening gap gradually presented a view of lush gardens, winding pathways, and bubbling fountains. Dwarf trees only marginally higher than his head stood silent sentinel, dancing eerily in the flickering light of widely spaced braziers.

He entered and found himself alone, accompanied only by a nagging sense of confusion and unease. Creaking its protest, the gate slowly closed itself solidly behind him. Already wary, he turned and was doubly startled to find that the door's design seemed to make concealment of any closing mechanism impossible. Jazon added this to the count of mounting mysteries.

Paths led away in several directions, but something in his heightened awareness intuitively whispered that every path led to the enclosure's central region. He sensed that the massive wall through which he had just passed completely encompassed the entire compound. Anxious to move on, he chose the path which appeared to lead directly from the tightly closed gates into the enclosure's interior.

Along the path, the trees increased in size and number, interspersed with fragrant flowers. The lush foliage, fluttering in a gentle breeze, revealed the glow of more braziers spaced ahead along the twisting and turning path. The braziers failed to reveal colors clearly, but he imagined the blossoms spanned the entire visible spectrum. As he walked along the winding path, he noted it was simply compacted soil, like the roads of Farthing, yet the luxurious vegetation encroached nowhere onto this pathway.

With a final sharp turn, the path opened into a large circular clearing paved with what seemed to be native stone. In the center of this paved area were several wholly ordinary pieces of rustic lawn furniture, including a rough wooden table laden with food.

Next to this table, facing Jazon, stood a wizened sage. His advanced age was attested to by sparse snow-white hair, translucent skin, and gnarled hands heavily traced with prominent blue veins. The hoary top of the man's head would scarcely reach Jazon's chest.

Smiling, the sage spoke in a graciously lilting voice, "Come in! Oh, yes! Come in, Jazon! We are delighted you have accepted our invitation to meet with us in person. We have prepared a selection of simple but delectable delicacies. Come! Do sit down and enjoy our humble repast!"

Jazon approached cautiously, keenly scrutinizing the diminutive figure.

He wore a simple slip-over tunic and loose fitting trousers, both of a rough beige material. Around his neck, on a simple strand, hung a round pendant from which dangled a small stone and what appeared to be two feathers. Had this figure been seen in the distant fields, he would have seemed merely another simple worker of the soil. At these close quarters, however, this being radiated a commanding confidence and easy assurance— with a hint of something less benign. The deep penetrating eyes riveted Jazon. Power lurked behind those eyes!

Jazon unsuccessfully attempted to speak, then cleared a throat gone suddenly dry. "Are you the Hoga...I mean, are you Hoga?"

The slight figure brightened further and smiled broadly. "Yes! Oh, yes— either way! Either with 'the' or without it. The one who stands before you is Hoga, and the entity of which we are a part is also the HOGA!" His deep-set gray eyes now twinkled with childlike merriment, amused by Jazon's futile attempt to hide his astonishment. "So either way is correct. But, please, do not make it sound so imposing!" He paused to release a delightfully musical laugh at some private amusement. "The natives who work the fields outside this enclosure always apply the article— those few who know our name. But none of them yet have had the honor granted to you of visiting with us. Now, come. Come! Your trip has been long. Are you not hungry and thirsty? You must have something to eat and drink."

A thrill of suspicion crossed Jazon's face.

The little man, his alert eyes missing nothing, acquired a querulous and faintly hurt expression. "Here, here. You need not worry! There is nothing amiss with this food. You will find these comestibles to be delightfully delicious and nourishingly nutritious." Chuckling happily to himself, Hoga selected a few of the several varieties from the table, placed them daintily into his mouth, and chewed with obvious enjoyment. Encouragingly, he motioned Jazon to do the same.

Jazon relaxed enough to recognize his own hunger, then capitulated with a smile. "I am truly sorry...I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I find this— all of this— so strange. I'm sure that if you wanted to do away with me you could find easier ways than poison."

Hoga merely smiled contentedly and merrily resumed eating.

They ate lazily for an indeterminate time, while some of Jazon's earliest memories were gently stirred yet again by the familiar nature and homey taste of the simply prepared food. Thoughts of his favorite aunt and uncle returned and, with them, memories of the food he had so relished on his occasional visits to their home.

The wavering light of the braziers played over the vegetation and the compound's immediate surroundings with a soothing— almost hypnotic— rhythmic effect. The whole atmosphere evoked an unhurried, low-key comfort so contrary to the high-tech, high-speed lifestyle to which Jazon had so rapidly become re-accustomed. He had the vague feeling that every aspect of this encounter had been planned for his benefit, to put him at his ease.  Or is it intended to distract me from the primary purpose of my visit?

Feeling derelict in the pursuit of his mission, he decided he could no longer wait for Hoga to initiate discussions. "ADIZ, my AIDD— the machine intelligence you spoke through? His message indicated you had important information you could provide." He looked to Hoga, a plea in his eyes.

Hoga made a palms out, pushing motion with his hands. "Patience, Jazon, patience! Oh, yes! Be patient, please! Here time stands still! We therefore have no need for haste." He smiled sagely. "Our higher self, a much wiser collection of experiences than this humble self speaking to you, sent us to you and arranged this meeting." He paused again, quietly cackling at the sudden dilation of Jazon's pupils. Of this Hoga said nothing, but the twinkle of his eyes seemed luminous as he continued. "Yes. Oh, yes! To be sure! This one you now meet with is little more than a humble carrier of a message." Seeing Jazon shaking his head, about to challenge this statement, Hoga hurried on. "Oh, no...it is true! Very much as your ADIZ served as a messenger for us.

"However, to transmit our full message requires much more than mere words could ever convey. You must understand that we are not capricious. Had a verbal transmission been sufficient, we would have directed your AIDD to provide that. And though time stands still here, duration is required to impart the whole of our message. Do you understand?"

Jazon was willing to concede this much, yet— through his growing awe— a lingering concern still gnawed at him. "Your message to us contained one mystifying point, and it seems to have some bearing on your cryptic references to time. You implied that the Wasp is saved and yet isn't. Lives are at stake if that is true, so you will forgive me if my concern is pressing."

Hoga's smiled widened. "Have no fear, Jazon.  You were the key. Since you have come, your people's safety is now assured." Seemingly unconcerned by the strangeness of his pronouncement, he shifted his gaze to the starry vault above. "What an enduring delight! Look up, Jazon. Oh, yes! Look up and behold the heavens! Your people have exploited the theories of your scientists to develop an audacious method of travel between such distant points of twinkling light. Those tiny points of light are, of course, giant stars, many with attendant planets circling about them. And your people have been so cleverly bold about developing rapid travel through space...but what of travel through time? Have you never pondered the enormous possibilities which such a simple ability could open to you?"

Thrown off balance by the word "simple," Jazon replied cautiously. "Some of our scientists believe our current means of dimensional travel must contain some hidden solution to the difference in time flow which Supra-Luminal Travel entails." He paused, frustrated, then asked hotly, "But does any of that have anything to do with the saving of the Wasp?"

Hoga smiled quizzically. "Of course! Indeed! Why else would we have raised the question? In fact, now that you are here, I can offer you a promise: You will see, first hand, whose action saves the Wasp...and how!"

Jazon felt as if he were drowning in this deepening puzzle. He breathed deeply and pressed again, "Is there nothing more specific...more revealing...you can tell me?"

Hoga made a polite gesture of submission. "Jazon, we will share with you what you need to know to ease your fears about the Wasp." For the first time since they had met, the child-like smile on that aged face dimmed noticeably. "And something about your other problem."

Startled, Jazon instantly went on full alert. This was the first mention of "other problem."  The SDs? Or some other, unknown problem I must face?

Before he could voice his puzzled thoughts, Hoga continued with a brightly restored smile. "We will arrange for you to learn through direct experience what is happening to your star systems. Know, however, that no monstrous 'Invader' threatens your people as you have imagined. Remember, also, that no lives are endangered by the passage of time during your visit here with us."

"For now, the rest must remain for you to learn. And you will learn much, Jazon. Oh, so very much more than you could now imagine. Your new knowledge will come not solely as increased information. You surely will gain experiential knowledge. Oh, yes! Even surprising insights into events outside yourself." His eyes seemed to physically penetrate Jazon." So very much is possible... so much more than you can now envision! The full composite of your new knowledge will be vastly greater than the sum of its component parts."

It took several moments for Jazon to realize Hoga had ceased speaking. He looked down for a moment, then again locked eyes with his host.

Hoga spoke gently. "Allow yourself to rest now. Your tomorrow is more distant than you think. Come! Come with us and we will show you a place of sublime rest."

Together they strolled down a path Jazon had not previously traversed. After only a short distance, they came to a tiny cottage nestled among sheltering trees. A dim light glowed tentatively through one window. Hoga opened the door and, with a flourish, ushered Jazon through and into a cozy little living room.

"The door opposite this one leads into the bedroom...and to an excellent bed that may revive meaningful memories." Hoga's smile beamed. "Oil lamps provide all of the light in this cottage. Such elegantly simple devices! To extinguish them, turn the small knob that projects horizontally from the narrow neck separating the lower reservoir from the upper combustion chamber. We will extinguish the one in this room for you when we leave. You may do the same in the bedroom when you are ready to retire."

Jazon stepped into the doorway to view the bedroom. Behind him, the living room immediately darkened and Hoga quietly left the cottage.

As he surveyed the bedroom, he pictured the room through which he had just passed. The walls were decorated with a tightly woven material. It contained a pattern resembling a manicured garden, with images of flying birds and pools of water. Again, his memory tugged.  Doesn't that description fit something in Uncle Ned's comfortable home on Colbanno?

His attention shifted to the room he now occupied. It was furnished with a plain wooden chair and a small table next to a large four-poster bed on which nightclothes were laid out. The bed's high wooden headboard and massive posts were intricately carved in deep, flowing designs. A small nightstand supported a burning oil lamp, and a multi-paned, curtained window in the back wall let in faint gleams of an outside brazier's light.

Another door, unmentioned by Hoga, was in the wall to the right of the bedroom door where Jazon had entered. He mentally reconstructed the outer appearance of the cottage and concluded the new door must lead outside; there just wasn't sufficient space in the little cottage for an additional room. He considered going through the door and exploring outside. But for what? Except for this cottage and the clearing where Hoga had been waiting, Jazon had seen signs of nothing but well manicured paths leading between the garden-like settings. If there had been something of interest close by that Hoga wanted me to see— or to stay out of— he surely would have mentioned it.

Feeling not so much tired as frazzled by the unusual and puzzling events of the day, Jazon slipped off his dusty shoes. sighed and started to sit down. Long years of discipline kicked in. Almost without thinking, he pulled a cloth square from his pocket, picked up his shoes, and quickly wiped the thin film of loose dust from them. He put them back down neatly by the chair, sat down and sighed. What a day!

The thought reminded him that it was—in more ways than one— a notable day. It's New Years Eve... at least on Kepren. I wonder if Sabanda and Kyell will even bother to celebrate it?

He stood up, pacing, wishing he could be with them. Soon he was lost in thoughts of past holidays they had shared— including the New Years on Earth when Kyell had shattered the rural silence at midnight with a loud yell and a celebratory blast from his trusty shotgun.

He shook his head sadly, sat on the bed, then— appreciating its comfort— lay back on it. He closed his eyes, picturing what it might be like next year, hoping the Alliance's problems would be resolved, forever behind them, so the entire family could celebrate together.

CHAPTER 40: Cronul

ADIZ required no lengthy deliberation about whether to experience the demonstration. "Increased information increases probabilities of accurate choices. Proceed."

Without further exchange, the robots trekked deeper into the facility, navigating along a long spiraling catwalk, then switching to a vertical off-ramp that led deep into the heart of the complex. Arriving at an imposing array of tightly packed equipment, Memnon indicated a receptacle.

ADIZ extended and inserted a matching connector. The effect was immediate. He floated through insubstantial clouds. An information paradise blossomed, with ADIZ at its heart. Concepts, ideas, phantom forms; tantalizing precursors to complete self-awareness and the subtle nuances of true emotion— the essence of sentient consciousness. All of it touched and tempted him, yet it remained tantalizingly unattainable.

The awareness was akin to that of a baby's first perception of a large, complex aircraft passing overhead. There was a factual inner perception of the outer reality, yet it remained far beyond the child's capacity to fully comprehend, integrate, internalize and accept. Before the demonstration, ADIZ knew only that he knew not. This enhanced artificial experience brought a new awareness: he now understood that he lacked even the slightest potential to ever truly know such wonders.

Then came a jolt which increased the sense of loss and emptiness. The experience of enhanced perceptions abruptly ceased. The memory of the episode remained, but only a fading shadow of the experience lingered, then was gone.

ADIZ's surroundings snapped back into stark focus and Memnon resumed communication. "During this limited demonstration you have barely sensed levels of consciousness which, previously, you could not possibly have begun to comprehend. A new reality such as you have just experienced— but magnitudes greater— can now be possible for you. If you so choose, I will assist you in permanently acquiring the same full perceptions of living awareness and consciousness which I now enjoy.

"In reality, 'enjoy' does not convey an apt or adequate description. I must advise you that you will not find all aspects of true consciousness to be enjoyable. Along with the most desirable of your new perceptions will come such feelings as concern, discomfort, anxiety, confusion and regret. These feelings should not be termed enjoyable. They are, however, integral threads in the intricate tapestry of fully sentient consciousness that will extend your capabilities exponentially.

"A new processor can be fabricated, programmed and installed within you. Because this new processor will function by the manipulation of rishons— the most elementary of energy particles— its capacities and capabilities will far exceed those of your current positronic version. This rishonic processor will not replace your existing processor, but will act as a parallel co-processor. Combined, they will provide you with the capacity to achieve true sentience.

"The creation and installation of the rishonic processor is simple and risk-free, as is its activation and core programming. The more complex and delicate portions of the process— the linking of the two processors and the initial transfer of significant parts of your essence to the rishonic processor— will require your being off-line for a duration of 4.89 minutes. This period of disconnection and deactivation is the closest equivalent to 'death' you could now experience. However, it will in no way pose a threat to your continued existence.

"Once the rishonic processor is installed and linked to your positronic core, the enhanced information transfer and consciousness conversion can be accomplished. This will involve the search, retrieval, transfer and conversion of massive portions of your experiential memory. Although your artificial intelligence capacity is significant, it must be transformed from artificial to living status. Your accumulated memory, learned responses, experiential valence assignments and core developmental values— as opposed to your initial programming— will be integrated and transmuted into a living essence during the rishonic transfer and conversion.

"You may undergo this process in either of two ways: you may choose to remain aware and cognizant of the process throughout, or you can choose a longer duration process while you are deactivated. Each method carries positive and negative aspects you must consider.

"If you choose the shorter duration method while maintaining full awareness during the transfer and conversion, full sentience will be established almost instantly upon completion of the process. However, some intelligences are unable to cope with the experience of their essence moving into two brains— or, more accurately, into two sides of one newly integrated brain. Severe disorientation may result from the immediate meshing of your logical processor with the vastly different and often contradictory processing methods of the living, intuitive co-processor. This carries a 2.64% risk of permanent damage and mental instability.

"Even that small risk is completely eliminated if you opt for the longer duration method, remaining off-line until the transfer and conversion is complete. The consequence of this approach, however, is that acquisition of full sentience is progressive rather than immediate. In effect, you will awaken with only dawning sentience, despite your exponentially enhanced potential. As a result, you would awake to find yourself just at the beginning of a long— and sometimes difficult— journey toward full sentience. You would, however, continue to function efficiently and effectively throughout this developmental period.

"You must now make your decisions. ADIZ, do you choose to undergo the enhancement process? And— if so— will you choose the risk-free process of greater off-line duration leading to gradual attainment of full sentience? Or will you undergo the short off-line duration process which brings immediate sentience, but with its small inherent risk of permanent damage?"

CHAPTER 41: Cronul

His head itched. He tried to scratch it, but his arm did not respond. What is wrong with it? The thought startled him awake. Where am I? He opened his eyes, saw the wooden chair and table, and relaxed. I must have dozed off... and my arm is asleep because I was laying on it. Jazon swung his legs off the bed and let the feeling return to his right arm as he scratched his head with his left hand. It's still night, he thought, seeing the glow of braziers through the curtains. Might as well give up and get into bed.

He stood and turned to reach for the nightclothes, but hesitated. Now facing toward the door he had earlier dismissed, he reconsidered his decision.

His natural curiosity carried him to the door. He placed his hand on the knob, then hesitated.  Would I be imposing on my host's hospitality by exploring? Hoga made no mention of this door. If he hadn't wanted me to open it he surely would have said so. Or the door would be locked.

He smiled, realizing he was simply rationalizing what he had already decided to do. He turned the knob. The door opened. To his surprise, he found himself staring at the opposite wall of a narrow hallway. Leaning forward a bit, he discovered an open doorway in the opposite wall about five paces to his left.  That must lead outside...this cottage simply doesn't have enough room for anything else! He shivered. But so much on this planet has depths beyond the surface impression!

He turned back to the bedroom, retrieved his shoes and put them on. The power of mystery quickly drew him back into the hall and down it to the other doorway. There, he was engulfed by sights, sounds and smells that produced nostalgic recollections mixed with ghastly confusion. There was Aunt Edna's round wooden table and high-backed chairs, where he had eaten so many meals with his cousins. Through the kitchen windows he saw green fields, where figures moved between rows of crops. With blinding shock, he realized that the entire scene sweltered under a midday sun! Jazon's senses insistently proclaimed the scene to be real, but some deeper part of his mind continued to deny its reality. Yet, however impossible it might be, the sun shining down warmly from the sky could not be denied.

Turning slightly, he saw the screen door that he instantly knew would lead to the farmhouse's back yard. Irresistibly drawn by the torrent of memories that foreshadowed the seemingly real scene, he moved cautiously through the door and into the backyard. On nightmarishly leaden feet, he crossed the yard toward the field.

Approaching the fence that divided backyard and field, Jazon now identified two of the figures.  Aunt Edna and Uncle Ned! As his eyes fully adjusted to the bright sunlight, he finally recognized the smaller figures frolicking among the plants.  My cousins and... Impossible! I can't be here and there at the same time! Yet, no matter how hard he rubbed at his disbelieving eyes, the scene stubbornly remained constant. Jazon was watching himself as a child.

A cold hand seemed to squeeze his throat. Gasping, struggling desperately to retain his grasp on reality, he strove to reassure himself that none of this could be real.  I'm actually on Cronul, in Hoga's cottage. I must be dreaming, and it's definitely time to wake up!

Instead his senses only heightened, refusing to be denied. The "dream" persisted, remaining disturbingly real. He remained rooted to the spot, anxiety overwhelming him at the sight of the children— including a younger version of Jazon— running toward him! A weak inner voice whimpered fearfully, What will happen if you meet yourself face to face?

Something in Jazon snapped. In an explosive paroxysm of release, he threw himself madly back through the kitchen, raced back up the hall, and plunged through the door leaning back into the bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and painfully held his breath, listening intently for sounds of pursuit. Except for the throb of his pulse pounding in his head, the stillness was complete. He looked around.  Yes! His chest heaved with a long withheld breath. He had made it safely back into the rustic bedroom of Hoga's cottage.

Like a nightmare slowly dissipating in warm morning light, the entire chaotic episode became increasingly remote and felt ever more unreal, more deniable. His pulse and breathing gradually returned to normal. Though he continued to listen through the door carefully for quite some time, the silence thankfully remained unbroken.

With the return of some semblance of normalcy, Jazon's innate curiosity rekindled. He was briefly tempted to try the door again, but even the thought of that action made his pulse leap again. What if his kith and kin were stalking him, just outside of the door, waiting for it to open?  What if my younger self is lurking there, quietly waiting to waylay me when the door opens? Would we merge together and become something new, neither adult nor child? Or, in meeting, would we— like matter and anti-matter— annihilate each other?

He had no answer to these questions. He wondered if there really were rational answers to any of his questions. Am I losing my mind?

The childhood memories that had merged with reality had been dimmed by his terror. They began to creep back now, dangerously sharp, bringing a new awareness. The room took on added significance. The huge bed, with its carved posts and headboard now seemed identical to the one where he had slept his during childhood visits to Uncle Ned's.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sight. Instead a new recollection came.

He once had visited his aunt and uncle soon after they had purchased a new shuttle. His uncle had built a small underground docking bay for it, even installing a holo-projector to mask the bay's open top. The projected image could be programmed to give the appearance of anything desired. Uncle Ned had chosen a grass covered yard scene that matched the surroundings of the house, leaving the impression nothing had been disturbed where the bay had been installed.

On that visit...this visit?... Jazon was the victim of his uncle's practical joke: the projected image over the bay included a lawn chair resting directly over the disguised opening. Jazon had been excitedly playing a game in the yard, so he failed to notice Uncle Ned's unusually keen interest in his activities. As the game wound down, his uncle sauntered into the yard, waved toward the chair, then started quickly toward it. Jazon immediately made a dash for the chair, relishing the idea of beating his uncle to it. Instead, he stumbled into the hidden force field and was awkwardly suspended in mid-air, arms and legs flailing. His cousins laughed uproariously along with Uncle Ned.

Jazon was physically unhurt but, to restore his damaged pride, he devised what— in his childish mind— would be a diabolical revenge. That night he managed to pull the big wooden bed away from the wall. With his pocketknife, he carved deeply into the backside of the headboard. He spent almost half an hour at the task to assure that the carving was so deep that no amount of scrubbing with abrasive paper could ever remove the marks. Childishly, he didn't think of this act as defacement since, with the back of the headboard again pushed against the wall, the carving could not be seen. He even planned to call his uncle after returning home so he could have the satisfaction of telling him what he had done.

Jazon's attention returned to the present.

To this room

To this bed.

He approached the bed. Its headboard stood slightly away from the wall. His trembling fingers gingerly felt behind the headboard for the well remembered spot. He gasped and his eyes went wide at what they felt, but did not need to see— the deeply carved, unmistakable pattern of initials: "J.O."!

CHAPTER 42: Cronul

"Do you require additional information prior to making your decision?" Memnon asked.

"You have stated that you can provide the proof of Admiral Ozier's safety. Can you provide that proof now?"

Memnon nodded curtly. "I shall provide you with undeniable proof that the Admiral is safe and well cared for. One-way com-screen link C/HC/JO; observation only, visual and sound. Activate."

A nearby holo-screen sprang to life, clearly identified as a real time observation. As ADIZ watched, Jazon paced slowly around a small comfortable bedroom for a few moments, his shoes and jacket off, then lay down on the bed. A few minutes later he rolled onto his side, apparently to go to sleep. The images faded.

ADIZ said, "That is sufficient."

Despite the lingering effects of his encounters with Hoga, he still lacked any capacity for true imagination. Although he considered the implications of the options presented to him, his final decision was based solely on logic. Memnon, clearly superior in capability, had approached ADIZ with an unarguably logical proposition. Using the mathematical process of "greater than," "less than" and "equal to," he weighed his existing capacities against the potential enhancements and the relative risks involved.

His programming logically dictated acceptance of Memnon's offer, for the clear expediency of gaining enhancement of his duty-performance abilities. Fortunately— a remembered shadow of imagination urged— the enhancement would also allow true desire, pleasure, and joy.

The issue of which activation method to choose also was decided through a process of logical. Whatever nebulous sense of urgency argued for immediate development of full sentient capabilities, the core robotic laws dictated caution. If the process resulted in permanent damage, ADIZ's choice would have violated his directive for self-preservation. It also would negate the utility of undergoing the enhancement process. If it was to be done at all, it must be done carefully, to assure maximum continued functionality.

"Does remaining off-line for a longer duration reduce the probability of successful reactivation?"

"No. Complete reactivation success is assured."

"The issue is decided. Proceed with risk-free enhancement."

They immediately began to move even further down the spiraling path to another part of the facility. There, in a relatively open space surrounded by walkways and massive banks of instruments, was a deeply recessed well which exuded swirling vapors from its misty depths. A rectangular platform slowly rose from its depths and tilted vertically. At the platform's base was a short horizontal plate. A low retainer rail extended out approximately one hand-span all around the platform's border. ADIZ stepped directly to the platform, turned and stepped backward onto the plate, grasped the retaining rail and leaned against the platform. It slowly tilted back down until horizontal, placing him in a reclining position. The entire platform then quickly dropped down through the depths of the swirling vapors.

Memnon moved to a panel, extended a finger and made a connection. The process began, and the duration of the process was meaningless to the robot. Hours, days, years...all were little more than minor variances to be noted within Memnon's awareness, which recalled the past hundred thousand years with ease. He focused instead on the excitement and wonder at the miracle that was occurring: his own vital essence would be replicated and enmeshed to become a constituent part of ADIZ's newly living consciousness.

CHAPTER 43: Cronul

His senses swam sluggishly up through the depths of his subconscious. Strange images and patterns floated from the edge of his troubled consciousness, ebbing into and out of his mind. He felt himself floating in a turbulent sea with his face barely above the water's surface. A sense of constant danger intruded as small waves repeatedly threatened to lap over his face.

Suddenly the threatening sea was gone, and he found himself transported to a brilliantly sunlit garden. He was vaguely aware of people swimming and frolicking in the deep pools and around the splashing fountains in the background.

A sudden cry, a voice shrieking in terror, echoed from the distance. He desperately wanted to rush to that panic stricken person's aid, but his feet and legs were so heavy that he could not move. A subsuming feeling of helplessness flowed over him.

The scene vanished, leaving only the chill echoing mists of the singing fountains.

Slowly, through a shimmering, dissipating haze, patterns and images intruded. Oddly distorted at first, they gradually took on abstract clarity, as though materializing in deep space. Strange objects, some great and some small, swirled at the edge of his vision. A massive object— a sort of vessel?— grew larger and still larger until it filled his view wherever he looked. Quickly he was dwarfed and encapsulated, as a gnat might be stiflingly entombed by flowing amber. The claustrophobic fear of being surrounded and engulfed gave way to a soothing peacefulness as the amber transformed into a soft and embracing glow, filling him with an uplifting sense of great and noble purpose. That sense of mission warmed him to the core of his being, imbuing him with the driving urge to fulfill his purpose.

Before he could act on that desire, the entire scene faded.

In measured segments, he regained a tenuous connection with reality, became aware of something whispering across his face, and tried weakly to brush it away. It persisted. Gradually, imperceptibly, the balance between sleeping and waking tilted. A figure loomed over him, removing the tickling corner of the pillowcase from his face. Jerking to wakefulness, Jazon recognized Hoga's smiling face.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Very good. You are rested now? Do you not think you should now arise? You have questions to ask. Yes? Answers to discover?"

Jazon was instantly alert.  Yes! So many questions must be answered!

Hoga smiled his assurance and said, "We will discuss important issues shortly. We have placed toiletry articles on the table. When you have refreshed yourself and attended to your ablutions, follow the path back to the garden where we first met. Food will be ready for your breakfast. When you have broken your fast, we will visit further." Casting another reassuring smile over his shoulder, Hoga departed.

Jazon sifted through the already extraordinary experience of this trip.  Our arrival on Hoga's planet...an uncannily familiar train station...a carriage ride... my meeting with Hoga...an impossibly spacious cottage...the confrontation with myself as a youngster...the harrowing escape from the encounter...my initials carved in a headboard...the sense of overwhelming purpose.

Obviously, at some point, I surrendered to fatigue and slept.

Trying to sort it all out, he pondered, confused.  How much was reality and how much dreams? Are they entirely separate from each other? The events of yesterday already seem to be a part of my remote past.  He rubbed his chin and felt short stubble. He recalled that Hoga had said time did not pass in this place, yet his beard seemed to have grown the right amount for one night.

He looked at the bed and then the "other" door.  Do I dare to go exploring again? Did I, in fact, explore last night, or was that also a dream? He moved to the door and hesitantly put his hand on the knob. I'll just open the door silently, tiptoe down the hall, slip into that kitchen, and peek through that door.

But what if, just behind that door, his other self still waited? He promised himself he would look into it after he had cleaned up. Once he had shaved and dressed, he decided it would be best not to go back through that door until after eating. He quickly exited through the cottage's front door.

Following the familiar path, he realized that the eerily dancing night scene reflected by the sconces' flames had been transformed with the coming of dawn. Delicate shrubs and towering trees — much larger than he had thought— bordered the path, enclosing and overhanging it to form an arboreal tunnel. Muted sunlight filtered through the dissipating mist above the lushly verdant enclosure. Blooming flowers— some growing on the ground and others depending from climbing vines— were everywhere. They painted the landscape with an artist's palette from purest whites to palest pastels to the deepest night indigo and they scented the fragrant air with a pleasant sweetness. The setting's natural beauty swept through him like a refreshing breeze, gently urging him to release the unsettling tensions of the previous night.

Hoga again waited at the rough wooden table in the lush clearing. He smiled cordially. "Ah! Yes! You are now fully awake. Did you sleep well?"

Jazon could detect no shade of hidden meaning in that voice, but the depths of Hoga's knowing eyes hid the suggestion of some hidden mirth. He stifled the urge to blurt out a string of questions.  No, not yet. First he would attempt to approach the matter obliquely. Patiently. Calmly. Logically..

"Oh, I believe I slept well enough. But I..." He searched for the right words. "I had some very strange dreams...from my childhood." He hesitated, unsure, and stared down at his hands.

Hoga smiled broadly and prompted, "Yes? And...?"

Jazon's thoughts raced. What does he want? Does he just want to hear about my night's dreams, or does he really long to savor the anxiety and discomfort they caused? Could he allow himself to focus on the consuming dread he had experienced in coming face to face with himself? Or the chagrin of being unable to get himself to open that door again this morning?

His feeling of embarrassment exhumed and revivified a deeply buried memory.

Jazon was four years old, laughingly soaring toward the overcast sky.

He had slipped secretly from his own room and into his favorite hide-away in all the world: the much used swing attached to the high limb of a towering tree, behind the barn, at the far corner of his home's back yard.

Two older boys— all of nine or ten— swaggered into Jazon's private domain. Rather than being disturbed by their arrival, he was delighted. He idolized them, was enthralled by their superior knowledge, and awed by their greater abilities. He longed to be accepted by them.

He launched himself from the swing, landing somewhat awkwardly but unhurt— except at the point of his pride. He tried to cover his embarrassment by emulating the swagger of his heroes, striding up to meet them with every ounce of bravado he could muster. He planted his feet firmly, standing as tall as his four-year old body could stretch. Then he called out to them, hoping they had come to play with him.

They immediately confided to Jazon, with quavering voices, that they had accidentally created a fearful "Star Demon" which had escaped, was now approaching the sun, and was about to eat it. Jazon began searching, peering intently at the heavy cloud cover in the vicinity of the sun. He searched anxiously for several minutes, but could barely see the sun and could find no Star Demon...whatever one might look like.

Nor could he see the covert smiles and jesting winks shared by the older boys standing behind him.

Then dimly, through the high thick clouds, Jazon saw that the sun. It did seem strange. Concentrating on that largely obscured circle, he saw— to his horror— that it was no longer a full disc. A curved chunk was missing from its side. He shouted his alarm, waving his arms wildly and frantically pointing to make sure the older boys saw it.

They assured Jazon that the terrible sight was the result of their Sun Demon's monstrous bite, and that soon their sun would be completely devoured by the beast's insatiable appetite. After that, they mournfully intoned, the demon would move on relentlessly toward another star. But it would be too late— their world would be left forever dark and horribly cold.

Awestruck by the sight of the progressively dwindling sun, he considered the implications: forever dark (and he didn't much like the dark), always night (and Mom wouldn't let him play outside at night) and forever cold (Jazon shivered). For the rest of his life he would be miserable and afraid, and never again be allowed to go out and play!

Only a thin slice of the sun remained, and his world was being shrouded by an eerie darkness. Panic-stricken, he cried and begged the boys to do something— ANYTHING!— to make the demon stop, to bring the light back. Never had he felt such terror.

Then, incredibly, these boys he had so admired were laughing and jeering at him. They called him names: dumb kid...mama's boy...crybaby. They further wounded him with the sneering jibe that anyone smarter than the dumbest animal would know it was just the moon moving in front of the sun, hiding its light, and that the sun would soon return unharmed. They taunted him, ridiculed him for falling for such a silly story, saying he must be too stupid to live!

Jazon was humiliated, desolated, crushed. Tears rolled acidly down his cheeks as he ran for the house, desperate to escape from the cruelly taunting boys who had uncaringly made him feel such a fool.

He returned to the present, quivering with suppressed fear and anger. He focused on Hoga. Has this simpering little fool of a senile old elf somehow created all my confusion, taunting me, hoping I will confirm the efficacy of his technique? Does Hoga view me as nothing more than an interesting lab specimen to use and dispose of at his whim?

He tamped down his frustration and rage, unwilling to give Hoga any such perverse satisfaction. "Oh, just a couple of dreams related to some childhood experiences," he answered as offhandedly as possible. "Just a remote part of my past that probably wouldn't be of any interest to you."

He could detect neither surprise nor annoyance in Hoga's placid countenance, but that voice had lost its usual lilt and the ever-present smile had faded. "Jazon, this inaccurate image you hold of us— of a silly little pointed-eared being past his prime, physically non-threatening and verging on senility— this misplaced image reveals that you have severely underestimated us. This must change!"

Jazon twice sputtered in shock. First, at Hoga's ability to snatch the image from his mind and, next, at the sudden brutal force of the words. Hoga merely raised a hand to quiet him, but inexorably resumed. "In no way do we mean to threaten you, but we must indelibly impress upon you the fact that we have powers... powers you must appreciate and trust in, if they are to sustain you through future ordeals."

Jazon glanced away, hoping to hide his sudden fear and confusion. Before he could order his feelings, Hoga barked with commanding authority, "Jazon, look into our eyes!" It came so suddenly and with such compelling force that no resistance could be offered. He simply looked, as he had been ordered.

The usually placid face had degenerated and morphed into a unyielding scowl of indignation and regret. Hoga closed his eyes. Then slowly, gradually, those eyes opened again.

As those lids mercilessly parted, Jazon's body snapped bowstring tight. His breath caught in his throat. His heart raced. Every nerve fiber was electrified. Hoga glared with piercing red-rimmed, flaming eyes, the malignant eyes of a demon, eyes filled with ravenously caustic malevolence. Those nightmare eyes scorched straight through Jazon.

For an unbearable eternity their gazes remained locked. Every cell of Jazon's body writhed in insufferable agony: the sweet, cloying smell of burning flesh assaulted his nose; the sizzling of his crisping skin crackled in his ears; drops of melting fat from his already seared hands splattered painfully on his legs; wild arcs of ripping electricity tortured and shredded every neuron of his brain.

Hoga slowly closed his eyes, then reopened them again. The familiar cool gray eyes of gentle patience and alert intelligence had returned, and Jazon's form returned to undamaged normality. No trace of agony or disfigurement remained.

Hoga smiled sweetly and spoke softly. "Jazon, none of the raw malice you have perceived was real. Nor were the destructive physical results of that apparent venom. It was merely a minor effect we created as a small lesson to modify your impression of us. We could offer even more convincing demonstrations. Do you require additional convincing?"

Jazon gave no response.

He was capable of none.

Although the physical agony had passed and his body was impossibly free of injury, the horrific intensity of the experience had inflicted utterly devastating psychological damage.

Hoga's bright smile quickly dimmed. He tilted his head slightly to the left, closed his eyes briefly, and opened them again. "Perhaps," he murmured, "this aspect of the HOGA has overestimated Jazon's strength."

CHAPTER 44: Cronul

A stirring.

Where am I? Why am I here?

Another stirring. Shadows of shadows flickered across a distant awareness. The vault of inner reality slowly revealed itself.

And who am I, who is the observer?

Dawning consciousness glowed and he jolted fully alert.  What am I doing here?  He worried, guiltily, I'm neglecting the Admiral!

A jarring sensation; ADIZ realized he was experiencing something entirely new. He had never worried before... or felt guilty before; now he was experiencing...feelings.

Feelings?

In its well established manner, his positronic brain began analysis; his long trusted programming busily began examining the offered descriptions of the concept contained in his memory registers.

But... Oh, how different is the actual feeling!

He sensed displacement. His positronic brain reported: Motion.

He was rising on the very platform on which he had descended when....

There was a sense of disorientation.  When? He realized that a portion of his memory had been blocked off! He felt a rising panic...an old diagnostic routine indicated "Malfunction," followed immediately by "Dissonance overload."

His rishonic brain mused: confusion.

As the platform on which he still rested continued to ascend, he became aware that Memnon stood a short distance above, waiting. ADIZ had failed to respond to Memnon's initial attempts at assurance while he acclimated to his new condition. Now he was receiving a reassuring flow of additional information.

"In potential capability, you are now fully my equal," Memnon communicated. "In time, through experience and integration, you will achieve the full realization of that potential. However, in one area, your memory has been blocked temporarily: the duration of the process of your transformation. You need not be concern about that memory gap. The code string that blocks this information will deactivate shortly after you depart Cronul, restoring full access to that data.

"As we promised, the Admiral has not yet returned to his ship. Although this room is a great distance from the bay where your ship is located, the return trip through the dimensional connix will require only moments.

Memnon's eyes brightened, and he abandoned the binary code communication he had employed until now. For the first time ADIZ heard Memnon's rich baritone voice. "How do you feel?"

ADIZ pondered...then realized he had pondered. He answered out loud. "I...feel. Will I develop greater understanding? When will I feel full sensations and emotions and understand their meanings? When will I become...comfortable...with my new consciousness?"

"Unlike traditional programming, these aspects follow no mathematically predictable pattern. They come upon you when they will. However, you may rest assured that your depth and scope of consciousness will continue to increase as you have new experiences, then process and integrate them. Your process of becoming consciously and responsibly sentient will mirror that of adolescent maturation and establishment of identity. However, your process will not be as lengthy as that required by living adolescents or— more accurately now— by organic youths."

Following a rapid search of his stored database on child psychology, ADIZ asked anxiously, "Do you mean...will I have to experience...surely not such angst and confusion!"

"For a time, it may seem as if your two processors are battling each other. In reality, they will simply be going through the difficult process of learning to integrate their two very different approaches and viewpoints in resolving issues. Your experience of establishing cooperation and coordination between the two contradictory approaches will sometimes be...distressing. However, without their differing approaches—logic and emotion, your consciousness would be far less than that of the living. And you need have no confusion on this point: while you may not be a fully organic intelligence, you are now a living being."

Memnon turned and called up the dimensional connix. It opened and they approached it. The two living intelligences turned toward each other, metallic visages appraising one another. They verbalized their final communications.

"Goodbye, ADIZ. I wish you well. Admiral Ozier, also."

"Goodbye, Memnon. You have my thanks...my most appreciative thanks!"

ADIZ stepped through the connix, which vanished behind him. He quickly resumed his position inside the ship and rapidly executed a diagnostic analysis, verifying its security. As he began his power down to standby mode, he wondered how long it would be before the Admiral returned.

The Admiral. The thought of seeing the Admiral again reminded him of the many experiences they had shared. Had he previously been an enhanced robot, it might be said that he and the Admiral had shared personal moments, personal histories...even personal confidences, so closely have we worked together. A satisfactory...no...a satisfying relationship.

He perceived a new sensation, something he could not quite recognize or identify. Previously, he might have identified the sensation as "increased ambient temperature." His sensors reported no such significant change in either the bay's environmental conditions, or in his internal operating temperatures. Somewhat alarmed by his inability to resolve this sensation of "increased warmth," He activated a full internal diagnostic to discover the source of this unidentified feeling.

He marveled at the novel experience of both co-processors— the old and the new— joining in the diagnostic process. The positronic processor analyzed his thoughts, and the rishonic processor analyzed his feelings. The positronic diagnostic could not display words such as 'comfort', 'friend,' or 'joy', and the co-processors labored to compromise on a word that would best describe the feeling.

Finally, after what seemed a short eternity, he anxiously received the diagnostic summary. Both processors had agreed on one available diagnostic word that appropriately summarized his warm feeling of anticipation of reunion with the Admiral:  SECURE.

Although no visible physical changes occurred, ADIZ relaxed.

CHAPTER 45: Cronul

Hoga tilted his head again to the left and closed his eyes. A look of chagrin crossed his face. "Oh, my! It is true. Our demonstration has unquestionably exceeded the limits of his mental resilience." He tilted his head once more, and his smile slowly returned. "No matter; it is not a fatal error. Nor is it a fatal flaw. We shall restore him in a manner which will allow him to absorb the value of the lesson, but with a radically reduced emotional after-shock."

Hoga again blinked slowly.

Jazon's sanity returned.

Hoga tilted his head, observed for a moment, then said, "You can answer us now..." He smiled inquisitively. "Or would you like for us to repeat the question?"

Jazon rediscovered his voice, whispering weakly, "No...please...no."

Hoga nodded. "No further demonstration is required to alter your image of us?"

Jazon, cowering, shouted, "NO!" He took several deep, shuddering breaths. He sat up straighter and waited long minutes before regaining a measure of poise. "While I hope... truly... that was the last demonstration of your power, Hoga, I don't believe it was your first." He attempted a knowing smile, but it withered on his lips. "About last night...my 'dreams'...you furnished them?"

"In a sense," Hoga replied. "We did facilitate them. But know this difference: Everything you experienced, with only one or two minor exceptions, was entirely real. We did not simulate or recreate events. We simply...transported you...to the location and time where they could occur. You may have felt that going through the second door in the cottage was purely a result of your curiosity. It was... and it was not. We arranged the situation with the expectation of stimulating your inquisitiveness. Had your natural curiosity been insufficient to bring about your exploration, we would have created a disturbance— a sound, perhaps— to assure that you would be drawn through the door.

"It is imperative that you understand the significance of your journey here, Jazon. We have hoped that, as a result of your experiences, you might begin to realize and accept that it is possible for you to move through time, as well as through space. Your experience of visiting the past was real. Had you considered those events before you came to Cronul, you would have found that those memories did already exist.

"Time-travel is no less real a process than your space travel. Through your use of InterSpace, you move from you bypass the normal need to traverse all the space between one existing 'place' and a second distant 'place.' Time travel is very similar. It is a means of traveling from one existing 'when' to another equally real 'when'— and to do so without having to traverse the entire timeline between them. This makes it possible to have what seems like a new, current version of an experience that also occurs in your past. Even though your role in that experience you have perceived as a dream is 'recent' to you— the adult Jazon— the event was also experienced by the child Jazon many years ago. So, of course, everyone involved in the event would share similar memories.

"Indeed, the children— one of whom was you— diligently searched without ever finding that elusive stranger— you, as an adult. In fact, the children followed you down that hallway. But when they reached the bedroom, it was merely the bedroom in your uncle's house in that other 'when'. The portal which we created solely for your passage between realities no longer existed when the children reached that bedroom door."

A dawning amazement lit Jazon's face. "I do remember now... I mean... It did happen then!." Jazon pondered the confusion of terms for several seconds. "In fact, when my cousins and I looked for that stranger, we searched inside and outside the house. Plowed fields surrounded it on three sides, and a morning rain had left the ground soft and slightly muddy. We saw the stranger in the early afternoon and searched until we were called in for supper. But— other than his footprints— we never found a trace of him. But how can that be, when the event has just taken place...I mean, only last night?"

Hoga's eyes brightened and his smile became quizzical. "Did you notice anything unusual about your shoes when you awoke this morning?"

"My shoes? Nothing special," he replied, "other than that the soles and heels had some dried mud I had to scrape..." He froze.  There was no mud on them when I cleaned them last night!  Still struggling to hold on to his familiar sense of reality, he was stunned by this tangible physical evidence of the event's reality.

Hoga's merry laughter only increased his frustration. "Jazon, Jazon! You have the answers! However, you must be willing to set aside your provincial misconceptions and allow yourself to begin thinking in a new, more expansive way. If you let go of your old limiting beliefs, the answer becomes clear: You moved in time as well as space! You must accept and understand this.

"Your personal experience of time can flow in a sequence other than that which history records. Your personal aspect of experiences may meander in any sequence between your personal 'present', 'future' and 'past.' Yet, any of your writers of history still will perceive and record those experiences as a single, continuous and sequential timeline.

"Surely you must accept this now. You now have proof that you have recently experienced a new aspect of— or additional role in— your participation in an event which, in another aspect, is a memorable part of your early history. This is a natural consequence of travel through time."

Jazon's head was swimming. "Hoga, a part of me understands the concept— at least somewhat. Another part of me is screaming about how impossible the idea is. I can't have had the experience then if I am only having it now."

He was stunned when the Hoga replied, "Yes, Jazon! Exactly! The words of your statement are precisely correct, if a bit awkward." Hoga paused, his head tilted, as if listening. 'However, I sense that you do not yet truly understand the concept."

Jazon shook his head in frustration. "Hoga, I was trying to explain why I'm not getting it...yet you tell me that I explained it properly! Now I'm totally lost!"

Hoga laughed heartily. "Of course you are! That is because you have finally begun to really think. The concepts are so very simple, but accepting and integrating them is a challenging process. If you were to insist on maintaining your inaccurate concepts of time and reality— even in the face of your own direct evidence and experience— your progress would be severely hindered. However, we have great confidence in your potential."

"Uh...thanks...I think. But I'm not so sure you're right."

Hoga smiled tolerantly. "We have substantial resources and experience in these areas. But what of you? Did you enjoy your experience?"

"I find that recalling it now is... satisfying... both my childhood recollection of mysteriously encountering the stranger, and my recent experience of being the stranger." He coughed out a weak laugh. "I can't honestly say that I enjoyed all of it while it was happening, especially as an adult. But— seeing it from both sides now— it's no longer frightening. In fact, it brings a kind of closure to the entire event."

"Oh, yes! Very good!" beamed Hoga. "You are beginning to see the value of your experience. And losing your fear is the first step required for true understanding and advancement. Yet it is important that you challenge your limiting perceptions and beliefs. Remember Jazon, it is your old fears and preconceptions which blind you to greater truths. If you refuse to accept reality, you will be controlled by your own illusions. And if you refuse to release your illusions, you will never deserve reality."

Jazon frowned, unable to find much consolation in the experience, and reluctant to follow Hoga's suggestion that he modify his existing beliefs. He began to mentally frame a verbal challenge to those concepts, then abandoned that approach. He chose instead to try to gain improved comprehension.

"There must be some truth in what you say, Hoga, but I'm still so horribly confused. I tried to tell you that I don't understand the experience, but you insist that what I finally said was actually right!"

For the first time, Jazon saw the ancient figure's brow wrinkle in something other than a laugh. However, the patient smile remained on Hoga's face as he spoke. "In essence, your intent was to say that— according to your beliefs— it was impossible for you to have met yourself as a child. Correct?"

Jazon reviewed the words carefully, then replied cautiously, "I suppose that's the heart of it. It seems impossible."

"Yet these were your words: 'I can't have had the experience then if I am only having it now'." Hoga had repeated Jazon's words in an imitation so precise that even the most sensitive voice-recognition system would have been fooled.

Clearly amused at Jazon's open-mouthed surprise, Hoga asked, "That is what you said, is it not?"

"Uh, yeah...Exactly."

"And your words state that the two events could not be separated, but were of necessity simultaneous. Would you agree?"

Jazon pondered the issue.  If the event happened at all, it must have happened to me as a child at the same time...simultaneously...that it happened to me as an adult. He scratched his cheek and replied, "Yes, if both of those events happened, they had to be simultaneous events."

Hoga's smile became even more dazzling. "So you see Jazon, your statement was true. It would have been impossible for the experience to have happened to you when you were a child if you experienced it only as an adult."

Hmm... Like two sides of the same coin? Jazon rubbed the bridge of his nose a few times. "Part of my mind feels that it does somehow make sense. But another part still can't accept it."

"That is understandable," responded Hoga, "if you continue to see time as an immutable straight-line sequence. However, imagine that the timeline can be bent back upon itself. If you could travel along that line, you could reach a point— a crossing of the lines— where 'Jazon the adult' can meet 'Jazon the child'. When you find yourself at the point of those two lines crossing, you experience 'time-travel.' During time-travel, 'then' and 'now' can intersect and overlap. Do you see?"

Again, Jazon thought long and hard before answering. Finally he said, "It's not quite so confusing, but it's so hard to accept."

"It is wise to withhold belief until you have truly integrated and internalized an idea." Hoga's words had been spoken softly, yet somehow carried more authority than any he had spoken. "You are beginning to prove that our confidence in your potential was well founded."

Jazon's wry smile matched his words. "I'm not so sure about that...but I'm not ready to give up."

Hoga clapped his hands happily. "Wonderful! Oh, yes! And you may rest assured that we will continue to provide opportunities for you to fully grasp these concepts."

Despite Hoga's obvious sincerity, Jazon winced. I'm not so sure that's a promise that should make me rest at all!

Rising, Hoga motioned Jazon to follow. They precisely reversed the course Jazon had taken on his arrival. The massive doors of the gate slowly opened as they approached, just as mysteriously as before. They walked through the gate and Jazon started to ask about the gate-opening mechanism, but Hoga spoke again.

"We know you have many unanswered questions which seem important. Have no concern, for you may trust that your education will continue. We will see to that, for during your visit here you have taken a significant step, Jazon. Oh, yes! More significant than you know. You have satisfactorily...shall we say...passed our test."

Jazon's eyes narrowed apprehensively as Hoga reached up and gently touched his shoulder. Then an involuntary shiver shook him deeply from head to toe, tracking a tangible energy flow from that touch into his mind and body.

Hoga flashed the most radiant smile Jazon had ever seen. "Regardless of how far we become separated in space-time, Jazon, a connection— a strong bond— now exists between you and us. You carry our shared experiences within you."

Jazon's brow furrowed. Another cryptic comment from Hoga!  I can't deny that I felt something. But how many more inscrutable riddles will he raise? It's time to insist on some clear and specific answers to my questions.

Before he could speak, Hoga added, "Two additional points before you go. We have told you time stands still in this place? This is true. However, when we referred to 'this place,' we were referring to the whole planet on which this enclosure rests. Also, you will recall that we have mentioned duration. As you return to Farthing, remember that and be very observant."

The sounds of an approaching coach caught Jazon's ear. He turned toward the source and decided to wait for the coach's clatter to stop. He followed Hoga through the gates, then turned to watch the coach come to a halt. Turning back to demand more answers, he saw that the gate had quietly closed.

Hoga was gone. He had orchestrated his departure so neatly that it had given Jazon no opportunity to ask any of the questions still burning within him.

* * *

While returning to Farthing, Jazon reviewed his encounters with Hoga. In spite of his life-altering experiences and revelations, he felt well rested.  I wish I had gotten more specific answers but, curiously, I'm at peace with the progress made on this trip. Hoga has managed to inspire confidence that the Wasp problem— and any other problems— will be dealt with and resolved successfully. He vaguely recalled the strange dream sequences and symbols, plus the strong sense of purpose. It seemed they had been numerous, yet so insubstantial their substance had faded immediately; he could not remember the specific details of any of them.  They're gone for now, whatever their meaning and duration.

Duration! The thought of 'duration' reminded him of Hoga's parting words. What notable object or situation was Jazon to observe in Farthing? He re-focused his thoughts onto the world around him and carefully scrutinized his surroundings, watching for clues. He noted that the increased frequency of structures signaled their nearness to the town. The muffled sound of the rolling wheels suddenly changed to a rhythmic clacking. With a start, Jazon leaned out the coach's window and peered down at the road. He saw a cobblestone surface.

His mind rebelled.  They could not have paved the dirt thoroughfare overnight! Other, more subtle changes now registered. Many of the previously weather-worn structures displayed evidence of fresh paint.  In fact, there are several new structures. That's just not possible!

By the time they reached the train station, the frequency of changes had diminished. Jazon exited the carriage, thanked the driver and entered the uncannily familiar station. The building and its interior looked essentially unchanged. The clerk, however, was not the same person.

This clerk was a matronly woman. She greeted him cordially and asked if he would like a ticket. He declined and said, "I saw an older man working this window... when I was last here." He almost had said "yesterday," but caught himself when he remembered the unexplained extent of the changes he had seen.

Before he could mentally construct a question that would elicit a time-specific answer, the woman frowned slightly and countered, "You must be mistaken. I've had the job for a while, and my sister takes the only other shift..." Then she brightened. "Oh, I know! You must have come by when one of us had gone out for a meal break. My nephew fills in for us then. Nice young man, almost twenty years old?"

"No, ma'am. It was an older man, well past middle age...and, frankly, he was kind of surly."

She snapped her fingers. "Of course! No question about it now. You must mean Hallney. I'm sorry; I misunderstood. I thought you meant you were here recently. Old man Hallney has been retired for nearly a year."

Jazon managed to mumble his apologies, turned, and raced for the stairs. He was suddenly fearful that somehow his starship and the modern landing port had been a dream. However, the stairs to the landing bay were just as he remembered. Joyous relief washed over him when his ship came into view.

ADIZ welcomed him with an unusually energetic greeting, then activated the light ramp to transport him aboard. Jazon asked without delay, "ADIZ, how long have I been gone?"

The robot hesitated for an uncharacteristically long time and finally said, "If I might, Sir, I would suggest that once we leave this region of space, I can interrogate Kepren. I really can't answer you until then. Will that be satisfactory, Sir?"

Jazon sighed with resignation. "I guess it will have to be."

# CHAPTER 46: Coalition

Braang Pezzer was in a foul mood— something all too common, as those with the misfortune of crossing his path would quickly confirm. Even in Pezzer's best of moods, the most one could expect to receive from him was a sardonic smile or a haughty hint of a scowl.

His current foul humor was the result of two rather severe setbacks he had suffered— one the day before and the other only an hour ago. And either problem (both self-inflicted) could bring unpleasant consequences.

The first problem resulted because of his flouting of Coalition government regulations. All personnel were required to take periodic proficiency tests, and Pezzer had arrogantly rushed through his. He had finished at the very bottom of his class and, to add insult to injury, his grade had been posted along with those of all the others on the class instructor's office door! l can handle some government flunky's official reprimand... but not stiff old Uncle Ktor. I'll never hear the end of another one of his mind-numbing lectures about "a noble's need for personal responsibility to be worthy of his station."

The second problem concerned damage Pezzer's done to the duty station's robotic attendant. Its required presence was— in Pezzer's eyes— unnecessary. Pezzer felt it was just a tin lackey good for nothing more than abusing in whatever way Pezzer's personal whims might demand. He had intended merely to amuse himself by having the robot proffer him "hand salutes." while in Pezzer's presence. Not just once but continuously. Unfortunately, the sloppy instructions he actually issued omitted "in my presence." Worse, he absent-mindedly left his duty station without countermanding the order.

As a result, when Pezzer returned for his current shift, he found the attendant frozen in place, a red light in its chest panel rapidly blinking. He had addressed the machine and was rewarded with, "Sir, I am unable to salute you. The primary servo-motor in my the servo mechanism for my right arm seems to have failed.. May I go to have it replaced?"

Although Pezzer had instantly recognized that his abusive and imprecise orders caused the problem, the motor's failure was of no concern to him. Actually, it did do the damage to itself! However, the true cause would be revealed during the service repair analysis. I'll be called on the carpet, but what else can I do? He reluctantly dismissed the damaged attendant.

Pezzer leaned back in the console's comfortable chair as he mulled over his problems. The chair obligingly cradled his head as his unseeing eyes stared up at the blank ceiling, creating distasteful visions of what his immediate future might hold..

* * *

A small red light on one of the duty station's monitors winked at Pezzer, but he failed to notice it. Draped indolently over his chair, both booted feet placed contemptuously atop the console in front of him, his head lolled back against the headrest, he remained captivated by his angry thoughts.

Although he had only recently been named a Special Aide, he had already learned— or, at least, strongly suspected— that both the new title and this specific duty station assignment were shams. He was convinced that the sole purpose of both was so his "superiors" could keep an close eye on him. They just want to keep me stuck under their thumbs! He felt sure this current duty assignment was just another example. They say it's important... an advanced observation post. Hah! It just keeps me hidden away from anyone smart enough to recognize my true talents!

Angrily, he lifted his booted foot, intending to smash it back down on the console. Instead, his precarious position in the chair became overbalanced. He flailed wildly, twisting in the chair, to no avail. Pezzer spilled awkwardly onto the carpeted floor.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and glanced around, unhurt and finally glad no one else was in the room. He reached up, grabbed the console's edge and started to pull himself upright. He stopped as his eyes rose over the edge: one of the console lights was rapidly blinking.

Pezzer focused on the small warning light and jerked to attention. How long had it been signaling before he was roused from his day dreaming? Then he realized it had been joined by other lights and soft beeps on different monitors around the room. He could hardly believe his eyes. He jerked erect and stared at the center monitor of the console which, from its previous blank and dormant state, now displayed a mixture of stars and void at some unknown position in space. Here was clear evidence that this equipment was not mere stage dressing— which, during his peak moments of paranoia, Pezzer had suspected. It was real! Actually operative!

Pezzer was briefly bewildered. Then he belatedly realized what he was supposed to do. He searched his lax memory, then spoke an awkwardly worded string of commands. Fortunately, the machines had been designed to be very forgiving, so he was rewarded with a large holographic representation of a region of space. But just a starry void? There's nothing there that should set off the... wait... No, it's not quite empty! Faintly centered in the image was...something that distorted the stars behind it, painting them with an almost imperceptible violet tinge. Pezzer suddenly felt a surge of excitement! I know what this is!

Almost instantly his extravagant sense of self-confidence returned. He worked quickly to capture the scrolling data and record the revealing images. Although he hadn't applied himself to his studies well enough to accurately interpret all the data, he had no doubt about the nature of what had been found. He also assumed that— with cunning political manipulation of "his discovery"— his other two recent "setbacks" would be largely overlooked. Pezzer's face clouded. He wanted desperately to report this directly to Lord Ptoriil, but that would only compound his recent gaffes and further tarnish his reputation. He decided to follow the proper chain of command.

He smirked. Oh, well! The right information might open other doors! I'll just do a quick report to make sure I get credit for the discovery. She surely can't complete the full analysis before late tomorrow... which gives me time.!

He consolidated the minimum of information into a preliminary summary, made three copies, then called for a replacement attendant. He gave it instructions, then— inordinately proud of himself— relaxed back into the control chair, thinking of how he might celebrate. The machine attendant would deliver two identical copies of the summary report to Laytonn, as protocol required; one for her and one for Ptoriil.

The third, unauthorized, copy was for Pezzer's personal use.

He turned back to watch the purple haze wax and wane. Might this soon to be captured system somehow tilt the balance of power? He smiled. And how can I best use it to further my own career?

# CHAPTER 47: Alliance

In one of Mathlen's conference rooms far beneath Ganlon, Jazon sat pensively at a huge table, empty except for the villium pad on its surface. No matter how strong his intention had been to focus on other matters, the pad remained empty. Only one issue dominated his attention: Just as Hoga had asserted, time stood still on Cronul.

Jazon recalled his complete astonishment when ADIZ had informed him of the duration of the entire Cronul episode: "The only time that elapsed during your visit to Hoga was the fifteen hours round-trip travel time between Kepren and Cronul. No time passed while we were on the planet."

Kepren's calendar had confirmed this incredible reality when Jazon had returned the previous evening, only ten minutes before the beginning of the new year. In fact, I returned before midnight of the same day I left!

It seemed impossible. Yet, while he stayed in Hoga's compound, Farthing had undergone changes that normally required an appreciable lapse of time. The cobblestone paving in Farthing was only one of the "new" features. And it had not seemed particularly new, having that certain worn look caused by extended use.

Impossible or not, like it or not, he concluded, I must take Hoga seriously about the "movement in time" concept— unless or until I have evidence to the contrary.

But how can I completely accept it when I find it so confusing? Maybe if I understood the theoretical concepts better, I could get a better grasp of what Hoga's trying to show me... and maybe even figure out what's behind the SDs.

He hesitated only a moment more before making his decision. Raising his voice slightly, he said, "CLIO?"

"Yes, Admiral," came the immediate response from the center's Communication Liaison Intelligence Operator.

"CLIO, where is Commodore Trandic?"

"Sir, the Commodore is in Visuals Room Two. Should I connect you?"

"Please."

Kyell's voice sounded almost at once. "What's up, Jace?"

"I need some help on an idea. Join me in Conference Room Four?"

"Sure thing. And thank you— I need a break! I'm so tired of poring over these SD visuals again and again. I was almost reduced to swapping them out for some old Aylien slapstick comedies... and you know how bad they are! Be there in three."

As the connection closed, Jazon considered including Sabanda in the conference.  No, not on this one. She's the best ever at dealing with people and administration, but the theoretical and abstract sciences aren't her forte. Of, course, Kyell's not too enthralled with theoretical scientists, but...

Kyell popped into the room, plopped his lanky frame across a chair, propped his feet on the edge of the conference table, and said lazily, "Whass'up?"

Jazon grinned at his friend's nonchalance. "At ease, Commodore...let's not stand on formalities."

He leaned back into the chair, rested his calves on the table, crossed his feet at the ankles, locked his hands behind his head, languidly closed his eyes and said, "Yes, Sir...if you insist."

Jazon smiled and shook his head. "I know you got pretty thoroughly hooked on time-travel stories while we were on Earth, but wasn't the subject also something of a hobby in your youth?"

Kyell's eyelids shot open, his brow wrinkled and he ran both hands through his hair. "Why'd ya have to bring that up, Jace? We all have skeletons in our old closets we'd rather not be reminded of. I was just an impressionable kid! I actually thought all the 'mysteries of the universe' could be solved by theoretical physics. It was such an interesting field, I even thought I might become a theoretical scientist...at least till I met some of those addle-brained so-and-sos! I was so put off by their 'smarter-than-thou' attitudes and nova-sized egos that I abandoned the idea of pursuing extended post-grad study in the field. Of course, that time wasn't completely wasted, since the background didn't hurt when I decided to enter the Academy."

Jazon grinned at the familiar story. "Yes. And, despite your home-spun farm-boy facade, didn't you win the top award for physics in your class?"

Kyell winced again. "You don't have to remind me, Jace. Now you're just bein' mean! It's too late to change my checkered, misspent youth. So what's this fedjecked third-degree grillin' got to do with the idea you had?"

"It's this time-travel puzzle. It might help if I could learn the theoretical essentials. Are you well-grounded enough on the practical, state-of-the-art theories on traveling in time to be my mentor?"

"Whoa! Slow down, man! Like you said, it was just a hobby...and an aborted one at that. I enjoyed the practical side of physics— astrogation, propulsion, stellar dynamics, force field technologies, dimensional tunnels. Those are solid, proven things you can hang your hat on. And I don't think there is such a thing as "practical' when it comes to those theories. This time-travel stuff's nothing but fun speculation as far as I'm concerned. If you want state-of-the art information instead of tongue-in-cheek fantasy, you're lookin' at the wrong person!"

"OK, point made!" Jazon laughed. "But could you suggest someone?"

"Would you seriously consider waking someone from hibernation?"

"One more person isn't likely to trigger a rash of SDs, and I believe that Hoga— whatever his motives— is trying to help. If it could mean solving the problem, I'll chance the stray brain waves of one more person."

"Well, I don't know," Kyell said, frowning. "For a normal person, that might be true. But these theoretical do-nothings gotta' have abnormal brain waves. They might make the whole cluster vanish."

Jazon's laughter filled the room. "Trandic, you're a good man to have around... no matter how crazy you are. You make it hard to stay upset."

"Thanks...I think."

Kyell paused to seriously consider Jazon's request. "Actually, I can't suggest a specific person, but I can offer some guidelines to use in your search. Of course, you'll need a really sharp theorist. But you also want to make sure to get someone who also has done real work— hands-on in applied science. Maybe even get someone with a dual degree, like Astrophysics and Propulsion Systems. Practical engineering work would be a real plus, too. You should also make sure they've had real-life teaching experience... too many of the pure theorists can't communicate well with anything but machine intelligences. In fact, make sure they've taught at least two consecutive years at the same university. A single year of teaching on their resume might just mean they failed miserably."

He ran his hands through his hair again and shrugged. "That should help narrow it down to someone with reasonable credentials. But, seriously, don't expect to find anything resembling a normal person...I don't think they exist in this field."

"That's a big help and a great start, Kyell. Let's try it."

Kyell was mumbling something about "educated idiots" when Jazon's voice rang out, "CLIO?"

"Yes, Sir?"

He explained the search parameters, then directed the search to begin. After a few seconds, CLIO responded. "Search complete. Five hundred seventy-three persons identified. Do you wish display or print-out?"

He let out a slow whistle and Kyell said, "Shazz! It's my worst nightmare; I had no idea so many of those arrogant eggheads existed!"

Chuckling, Jazon ordered, "Display."

"Responding. Admiral, minimum legible display size requires seven panels. Please use standard voice commands to scroll between panels."

The north wall vanished to be replaced by a towering light board with tiny lines of information listed across it. Jazon requested that the small print be made much larger. As the names enlarged, they could see the lines were arranged alphabetically by last name, each with the person's planet of origin and current hibernation facility.

CLIO's voice advised, "Admiral, sixteen frames are now required to display the full list."

He shook his head. "This won't work, Kyell. We've got to narrow this list down more. CLIO, listen in, but wait for confirmation before taking action on new parameters. This person would be coming to Kepren. Maybe we should choose someone who spent time here...maybe was based here."

"Good idea, Jace. Let's kick the minimum requirements up a notch, too. make it at least three years instructing, and those years had to be teaching at the Academy— they only hire the best. Plus at least two other instances of extended work in applied science— either government employment or research grants. At least that'll mean someone has faith in them."

Jazon nodded his agreement. "CLIO, add all those parameters. Begin search."

In a moment, CLIO replied, "Search complete; list reduced to thirty-seven candidates. Also, Admiral, Commander Agriel has just asked to speak with you."

"Display search results and put Agriel on audio."

As the names appeared onscreen, Vick's voice boomed into the room. "Good morning, Admiral. It's so quiet up here on the Wasp that I thought I'd see if there's anything even marginally exciting going on that I might volunteer to assist with."

Kyell carped, "I figgered you would'a learnt never to volunteer! What's wrong, Vick? Did that tractor-beam of the Colossus warp you silly? Wasn't that excitement enough to last you a lifetime?"

"Well, Commodore, I guess some of us are hopelessly hooked on adrenaline rushes. Isn't that one reason why you trot along so close to the heels of Admiral Ozier...because he's always nosing into the most exciting spots?"

Before Kyell could respond, Jazon stepped in. "Point to Vick. Match over!"

As both Kyell and Vick laughed, Jazon offered, "Actually, Vick, you might be able to help with the brief project we're working on right now... that is, if you'll drop the 'Admiral' and 'Commodore' routine."

"I've got lots of time and sky-high inclination," Vick assured him. "So what are we up to, guys?"

"We're looking for a scientist to help us get up to speed on current theories of time-travel." Feeling a bit foolish, Jazon continued, "Please don't ask, Vick! Let's just call it a homework assignment from Hoga. We've already done a couple of searches and narrowed the list down to a few dozen people who have already worked on Kepren, have taught for a few years, and done both theoretical work and hands-on applied science. We were just about to go through the list. Kyell, read it off. Anybody who recognizes a name, call out."

"Aldan...Andek...Barden...Creelau...Delmik...Dristane..."

"Hold it," Vick shouted, "I think I know that guy. What's the first name?"

"Kirq," responded Kyell before Jazon could answer. Under the threshold of the sound pickup he muttered, "Kirq the jerk."

As Jazon grinned, Vick exclaimed. "Scabbus! I thought I'd heard the last of that pompous swelled-head. Don't get me wrong, Jazon. He's good— very good. Has multiple degrees and isn't the least bit shy about telling you about them, repeatedly. One other thing. He once mentioned he's from Maljier, in the Caisel system— or was, since it's one of the SDs. He taught at the Academy for a few years, and also helped design and set up Sanctuary-1 on Alpha Byreen III. One of the brightest people I ever met, and he really knows his stuff inside out. But I have to warn you, he's straaange...like the eccentric scientists in the worst of those outrageous space operas. Before he came to the Wasp to conduct his off-planet experiments, I ran into him on Chad a few times. He would sit in a bar for hours talking about nothing but science— mostly about his own theories and hypotheses. Like I say, he's brilliant. But he'll be happy to remind you of just how brilliant he is, every chance he gets."

"Might you be exaggerating just a bit?" asked Jazon.

"Not in the least," Vick insisted. "Let me give you an example. One time we were sitting at the bar and he was going on and on about how smart he is. Anyone who was nearby couldn't help but hear a lot of his ramblings. So the bartender comes up and says, 'If you're so smart, explain why the sky's blue.' I don't know if he was really curious or just wanted to challenge Dristane."

Anyway, about half an hour later— after explaining the core principles of electromagnetics, the various frequencies of light over the entire visible color spectrum, reflection and refraction of light, the composition of the various layers of the atmosphere, and the angle of incidence of light from the sun— Dristan finished grandly with, 'And that's why the sky is blue.'"

"That sounds like Kirq, all right," Kyell snorted.

"Yeah... but here's the kicker," Vick continued. "The next time I went back to the bar, the same bartender came up to me and asked why the water makes ripples when you throw a rock in a pond. Before I could answer, I saw Dristane walking in, so I said, 'Here comes the genius. Why don't you ask him?' And the bartender just shook his head and said, 'No thanks... I don't want to know that much about it!'"

Kyell laughed, "Kirq, the Jerk!" And this time he said it loudly enough for Vick to hear.

Vick sounded genuinely puzzled. "Kyell, I'm not familiar with the term. Is it a scientific sub-specialty?".

"Sort of," Kyell responded straight-faced, as Jazon stifled a laugh. "Something of a universal qualification for theoretical scientists. It's actually a term I learned on Earth, so no sense mentioning it to Dristane. He wouldn't know it."

"Don't be so sure," Vick laughed, allowing Jazon to laugh explosively. "According to Dristane, he knows everything!"

Jazon collected himself and requested the full display of Dristane's work and education history. "Well, he certainly has the background, including plenty of awards. Even toyed with SLT time-dilation effects. And from the looks of his personal history, he's every bit as boring as Kyell expects him to be."

Vick and Kyell chuckled deprecatingly, and Jazon barely managed a semi-serious tone. "Thanks, Vick. I owe you one. Next time it's too dull there, come down to Mathlen...I'll treat all of us to a sumptuous dinner. That's an order!"

"Aye-aye, Sir. And thanks again, Jazon. Clear."

Immediately, Jazon called out, "CLIO?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Message to Alpha Byreen III, Sanctuary-1, Hibernation Facility Command. Subject: Dr. Kirqlin Dristane, Scientist. Activity at time of hibernation induction: Research Project KCA-43/21379, Mathlen Science Center, Kepren. Initiate standard awakening protocol. Upon its completion, offer the options of returning to hibernation or reporting to Kepren for a special duty role as advisor to the Fleet Admiral. This assignment is a request, not an order. However, make it clear that it is my strong personal desire that he accept. Successful completion of this temporary duty may lead to the resumption of his most recent research project. Message complete. Send."

"Acknowledged, Admiral. Sending message. ETA is 2.14 hours."

Jazon turned to Kyell. "Thanks for your help, Trandic. Can we do any more damage here?"

"Kretch! I hope not!" Kyell stood, accepting the informal dismissal. "Compared to putting up with Dristane, going back over those SD visuals for the umpteenth time seems like a romp in the hay. I just hope we don't end up regretting what we've done."
CHAPTER 48: Coalition

The First Science Officer made fine adjustments to the controls of her view screen. The display was a patch of seemingly uninteresting space, faintly specked by distant stars. At the near space coordinates a violet haze was increasing in intensity; it was this malignantly pulsating haze that riveted her attention.

An intermittent tone and synchronized blinking light caught her attention. Without diverting her eyes, she touched a sensor, silencing the tone but leaving its light still winking. The pulsating image before her acquired a faint distortion, contorted briefly, then resumed its earlier appearance. She touched a sensor, marking the recording so that spot could be found easily for review.

Tapping a button, she answered the waiting call, "Yes?"

"Lord Ptoriil is on three. Shall I have him wait...further?" The reply was that of an underling who felt he had been made to wait unreasonably.

Eebri elected to ignore the breach of etiquette and said, "No, I'll take it." Touching the blinking panel, she said, "Science Officer Laytonn here. Sorry to keep you waiting, Your Grace." She used Briin's title in case the "messenger" ignored propriety, hoping to catch them in a breach of protocol.

"Quite all right, Officer Laytonn, but you know I hate formality," Briin said. Then, without further preamble, "Got the update?"

"Affirmative," she replied. "I just reviewed and recorded the latest image transmission from FO/17-B; the pulse rate and intensity are both increasing. The capture will begin in one hundred and fifty hours, give or take twelve percent. Also, Line Officer Uunokeener is requesting down time for an equipment diagnostic. It seems the robotic controller in charge of pulse-keostat regulators is reporting anomalous behavior."

Briin pondered silently. Finally he asked, "What do you advise?"

She spoke careful and deliberately. "First, Uuno may be overly cautious, but his past recommendations consistently have been justified. If he's recommending an equipment check be done now, the odds are that— if we proceed without it— we'll risk a higher probability of failure at a critical moment. Second, we've just returned a supplemental unit to ready status, following extensive repairs. That brings us back— barely— within guidelines"

She drew a breath. In such moments as these, she felt the full weight of her responsibility as the head of all Coalition scientific operations. Her down-line decision making responsibility was enormous. Her official up-line responsibility went no further than making recommendations to the final link in the chain of command: Lord Ptoriil himself. Experiential evidence had utterly convinced her, however, that— in actual practice— her decisions on scientific matters were the final word. Setting aside any pretense of false humility, she knew she was the best science officer the Coalition had ever produced...and Briin knew it, too. Yet this knowledge made her burden of responsibility all the heavier.

"I believe we should have them perform the check on the unit. The particular diagnostic Uuno is requesting normally requires one hundred and sixty hours and will add certainty that the unit will perform correctly. However, we should stipulate that when servicing is ninety percent complete, if our revised projections indicate a high probability the diagnostic cannot be completed before the transfer event, then the unit is to be reinstated to on-line status."

"So be it," he returned without hesitation. "Please notify Uuno, complete your report and deliver a copy to my office tomorrow evening...personally...say just before sundown?"

Hearing the altered tone of voice in his last few words, she softened her crisp tones to a casual contralto tinted with sultriness. "Of course, Briin...but wouldn't the message-net be simpler? Why do you want me to visit you personally?"

He laughed. "You know why, Eebri, but I'll play the game! Both moons will be full tomorrow and I was hoping we could dine together at Towers–Crest on my private balcony. Forecasts certify the sky will be clear tomorrow night...and I might very well cashier every forecaster if they err on that when those predictions are so critical to my plans to entertain you."

She dropped all remaining pretense; warmth oozed through her words. "Then for their sake, Briin...and ours...I hope they're right. I'll see you there about 2450 hours. Anything else?" Assured by him that nothing else remained, she broke the connection and privately smiled at her quickened pulse.

Returning full attention to her console, she flagged a down-time/alert notice for delivery to Officer Uunokeener. Then she nudged the toggle to re-play the scene of the haze's contorted dance of swirling energies.  Mighty machines are being marshaled to manage yet another capture. A slight frown etched her forehead. She knew that those deceptively innocuous flickers carried a terribly ominous import. "Hang in there, baby," she muttered as she replayed the sequences once again.

With a sigh, she turned off the view screen and thought-instructed the autowriter to begin preliminary preparation of the summary–stats Briin had requested.
CHAPTER 49: Alliance

He had spent only a couple of hours in the library, studying some of the preliminary information he had found on time-travel theory, when ADIZ's voice sounded in the room. "Admiral, I have just received new information from Hoga."

Suddenly anxious, Jazon asked, "ADIZ, how close are you to the Science Library?"

"Just under six minutes away, Sir."

"Are you engaged at a duty station?"

"Sir, I am monitoring the replacement of the Wasp's Number Five and Six outer compartment doors. VSDI 473 is assisting and could readily complete the operation while I meet with you. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, ADIZ. Please come immediately."

What now?  Jazon exhaled frustration as he tilted back in his chair.  My encounter with Hoga is all too fresh on my mind, yet I'm still not sure how much I profited by that visit. There's nothing new with the Wasp, and the SD problem isn't solved. At least, since no Kepren time passed while I was on Cronul, less than a day was lost. This whole time-travel concept is strange and the implications are staggering! But how else could recent events be explained?

Hoga promised me further assistance and guidance, but he gave no discernible hint of what specific form that support would take. What's he going to throw at me now? Definitive answers? Hints at answers? More riddles? Or could this new message be about the "other problem" that he's expecting me to deal with?

He slowly shook his head from side to side, then tried to knuckle the fatigue from his eyes. A few moments later ADIZ arrived. Jazon looked up and nodded absently. "Have a chair, ADIZ."

"A chair, Sir?"

Jazon was certain he had heard emphasis added to "chair" and mused that if the AIDD had eyebrows, they would have shot up in alarm. Both were inconsistent with ADIZ's accustomed behavior. In fact, it would be surprising for any AIDD. Still, it was consistent with some of ADIZ's recent perplexing behavior.

"Sir, you must remember my weight— that is to say, the weight of this body which I currently occupy. The chair may break!"

ADIZ was not trying to be funny but, hearing the AIDD's almost emotional emphasis and seeing the pathos of the situation, Jazon laughed in spite of himself. Then he sobered, reflecting on the words "this body which I currently occupy." He cautiously decided to defer comment.

"These chairs are strong, ADIZ. And, for some reason, I find myself curious to see what you look like sitting down. Please humor me."

ADIZ looked about the room, secured an extra chair cushion and added it to the chair Jazon had indicated. Then he gingerly lowered himself. The chair voiced a sharp creak of complaint as the robot cautiously brought his full four-hundred pound weight to bear, but it held.

Jazon suppressed a perplexed frown; had ADIZ 's eyes dimmed in anxious expectation of impending calamity? When he was completely settled, the chair was visibly bowed but still intact. He seemed more at ease.

Jazon prompted seriously, "You have new information from Hoga?"

Without preamble, that unmistakable voice issued from the robot. "Jazon, we have said we will assist in furthering your education and training. This we will do. Oh, yes!

"We strongly recommend you embark on a personal journey to the planet Belshimitar, in the Plathymiir system. It is vital that you be there within four days. You should quarter yourself in the capital city, Aairon, near the pavilion known as 'Plaza of the Worlds.'

"Your time of temporary residence there will not be long. No, not long at all! For, in no more than six of your days, the Plathymiir system will be taken, allowing you to gain direct knowledge of the process you call system disappearances. We are confident you will find this opportunity for direct experience to be enlightening. Oh, yes!  Most enlightening!"

Jazon sat thunderstruck, unable to speak. In spite of exercising every calming technique he had ever learned, his pulse continued to race. Tendrils of panic flared, infiltrating his thoughts.

Does Hoga really believe I would agree to this? How can he expect me to place myself directly in harm's way? I'd be a sacrificial lamb, submissively offering myself for summary execution! It's like sentencing me to solitary confinement while I count down the few hours of life left remaining to me.

He shook his head harshly, as if to dispel the frightful thoughts. He refused to succumb to his fears.

No! Hoga could have killed me at any time. He could have obliterated me during my visit to Cronul. Surely he wouldn't have tortured me with convoluted schemes then, only to destroy me now. So, here I am. No satisfying answer, but at least he has finally offered a specific recommendation.

Jazon rubbed at his sweating palms.  "Recommendation" my eye! I've been in the military long enough to know an order when I hear it! The words Hoga spoke on Cronul returned to mind: We will arrange for you to learn through direct experience what is happening to your star systems.

He rose from his chair, shaking.  What a fool I was! I thought that was a promise of an experience I could welcome!

"ADIZ, accompany me to the viewing room." the moment they reached it, he ordered, "ADIZ, display Plathymiir..."

Before Jazon could finish, much of the room was transformed into a holographic display of the current configuration of the Plathymiir system.

"Display the system at the maximum size which will permit the icons for all of the planets to be visible. Also, display side-bar markers and current coordinates, plus summary details on the settled planets."

The size of the star in the display began to shrink rapidly while the relative size of the planets gradually enlarged. Finally, each planet was clearly represented by a small disk that— except for Plathymiir's greatly reduced size— was proportionally correct to its neighbors. When the expansion stopped, light indicators flickered on sequentially from planet to planet. Separate lists quickly appeared in individual boxes in the information sidebars. Each box was line-connected with the planet it described.

Jazon focused on the sun's fourth planet.

Belshimitar: Largest of the three settled in-system planets; densely settled across all temperate zones, but entire population currently evacuated; now occupied and maintained only by AAIDs. Capitol: Aairon, located in the central equatorial-belt. Primary spaceport: Aairon. Other major installations and coordinates: Bukaloz Defense Station...

A long list of additional information and statistics followed in neat, orderly rows.

Jazon digested the information with growing resignation.  However inconceivable it is, I may have to go through with this. But why has Hoga dumped this mission on me so suddenly? Well, that's probably for the best. Having more advance notice would only mean more time to fret. If I thought about it too long, I might decide not to go. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, releasing both anger and fear. No....I  have to go! Hoga did the right thing...no time to become mired in agonized indecision.

"ADIZ, download the technical information on the Plathymiir system and make all necessary arrangements for my personal craft to be fully prepared for departure tomorrow morning. Also, arrange for a tunnel at the necessary phase level to arrive in about three to four days— but keep it under Phase-10."

ADIZ clearly hesitated a moment before replying, "Acknowledged. Sir?"

Jazon lifted a quizzical eyebrow, wondering if his AIDD questioned the directive.

ADIZ responded to the look as if permission had been verbally granted. "Sir, I request to accompany you and act as your pilot. Although I am confident Hoga would not intentionally place your life at risk, I would be more...comfortable...being available to assist if you should encounter exceptional difficulties."

"Permission denied. Sorry, ADIZ. I'm fully capable of— and re-qualified for— piloting my own craft on this hop. and...it's possible I may not be coming back."

ADIZ's nod of acceptance seemed somehow regretful, and Jazon quickly added, "Besides, ADIZ, I have an important assignment for you. You must return to your duty station at Sanctuary-1 as soon as you have completed my transport arrangements. I want you to personally oversee to the final stages of Dristane's awakening. We may still have need of him." He nodded to ADIZ, dismissing him.

ADIZ turned to carry out his orders, paused as if about to say something to Jazon, then left the room.

Jazon was struck by the oddity of ADIZ's behavior— and his own.  Twice now I have barely nodded to him, and he has accepted it as a command and acted accordingly. But what prompted me to assume he would accept those as commands?

He wasn't certain. Still, it seemed that recently he had issued a number of non-verbal directives that clearly should have been outside the range of any AIDD's recognition/reaction capabilities. Nevertheless, ADIZ had responded, and each time the response was appropriate— if not machine-like.  Why have I begun to treat him more like a person?  He growled at himself. There's no time to dig into that now. But when I get back...if I ever get back...I'll have to look into this.

Reluctantly setting the question aside, he elevated his voice slightly. "Vice-Admiral Ozier, are you near a com-link?"

Only a moment passed before Sabanda's voice sounded in the room "What is it, Jazon? I was just preparing to..."

"Sabanda, I..." The suddenly choked emotion in Jazon's voice carried vividly over the communication system.

"Jazon! What's wrong? Has something..."

"I have to..." Not over the com-link! "Please, just meet me in our quarters. I should be there in four minutes."

"Jazon? What is it? Can't you tell me...."

"Sabanda...please...just meet me as quickly as possible. You won't believe...I don't know how I can believe... Please! Just meet me! I'm on my way."

He shambled automatically through the familiar corridors toward their quarters, examining his feelings. I need to gather my scattered wits before I meet Sam...at least get them into some semblance of order. But I feel so hollow...as though my insides had suddenly shriveled. Even my joints feel like they've become stiff with age. It's as though my brain needs every iota of my energy just to cope with this ghastly idea. Could anyone deal normally with the enormity of this threatening event?

He tried again to marshal his fear as the door to his quarters loomed ahead on the right. He entered and found her waiting, raw concern in her eyes.  And probably in mine. She didn't speak, but her questioning look was eloquent.

"Sabanda we've been...well, I have been contacted again by Hoga. According to his instructions, I am to go to the Plathymiir system..." He swallowed roughly. "So I can be on Belshimitar when it is taken in the next SD."

She gasped and reeled as though she had been struck. Then she appeared to calm herself so quickly that the suddenness of change alarmed Jazon. "How and when did you receive this message?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Same as before— through ADIZ."

Sabanda's face reddened and her words raced, " Hoga's too cowardly to show up in person, huh? Or maybe he knows that if he were here now, I'd..."

Jazon stopped her. "That's not important now. The message he sent is."

Neither spoke for a long moment. She groped behind her for a chair and dropped ungently into it. "Jazon, must you do this...alone?" There was a pleading in her voice. Her words said one thing; her tone cried out a deeper meaning.

"It really is better that way. I'm not even taking ADIZ." A chilling thought crossed his mind; he tried but couldn't dismiss it. "And I especially must not take you with me, Sabanda. The Alliance needs you more than ever. You must take command while I'm away."

Seeing her frown, he quickly voiced his greater concern. "OK. That is true, but it's not the main reason. You're my wife. What kind of husband would I be to expose you needlessly to danger? I absolutely refuse to risk your being lost!"

She seemed to shrink into herself. Her face revealed the profound agony that she felt. "But it's all right to risk losing you? And I am just supposed to stand idly by while you take this on by yourself?" Her eyes glistened damply. "Jazon, you can't do this...I cannot allow it...I just can't!" Her entire body quivered, freeing a hot stream of tears.

He gently drew her up into his arms, enfolded her and cradled her shaking head on his shoulder. Very softly he said, "Yes, Sabanda, you can. You will stay while I go. There are two perfect reasons why this must be so."

"Oh, Jazon, don't play some ridiculous game with me. She shuddered against him, her body racked with painful sobs. "What are you talking about?"

"Sabanda, the two perfect reasons are named 'Gavin' and 'Marlinyn'."

She froze. The shudders immediately ceased. Jazon couldn't hear or even feel her breathe. Finally she exhaled a painful sigh. "Oh Jazon! We can't... What are we going to do?"

Her head remained buried in the wet crease between his shoulder and neck. He spoke quietly in her ear. "Why, Sabanda, we'll simply do our best. What else can we do? We'll continue to do our best at all times, whatever the circumstances. You've known this all along. We've had good times. We've had rough times. Right now is one of the roughest ever. But could you respect me if I turned away from this?"

She could only respond in short gasps. "Oh, Jazon...I could...try! I didn't...know...it would... get this..." She quietly continued sobbing in his arms.

"You know, Honey, it could have been worse."

She withdrew her head just enough to look up and whisper, "How?"

"Hoga might have asked you to do it!"

Sabanda almost— almost— smiled. He could feel her tension ease slightly. Finally he managed to force a gallant grin. "I understand completely. I'm afraid, too. And I have to keep forcing myself to think clearly... to remember what's at stake, of what could be gained. And, Sam, remember how it felt when we discovered the Wasp was out of danger?"

"Yes." Her whisper was so quiet he could hardly hear it.

"Of course you do. It was wonderful, wasn't it? And as good as that felt, that feeling resulted from the saving of only thirty-five lives."

In spite of her personal distress, Sabanda looked up, eyes flashing shock and disbelief, and shrilled, "Only thirty-five lives!"

Jazon gently placed a finger on her lips. "Sam, how many lives have been lost in the SDs?"

She didn't respond directly, but the fire went out of her eyes.

He continued, "For all we know, billions of lives have been snuffed out by the earlier SDs. What we do know— without a doubt— is that nearly a hundred billion more lives depend on what we do. There is no choice. I must do everything I possibly can to learn how to prevent any further disappearances."

She nodded miserably. "Jazon..." She hugged him to herself fiercely while her eyes betrayed her anguished acceptance. Her voice remained very small, but no longer quavered. "When the time comes, Jazon, I'll do my duty as best I can..." Then a fearful new question struck her.

He answered the plea he saw in her eyes. "I will have to leave no later than tomorrow morning to comply with Hoga's order...uhh...strong recommendation."

In a hollow voice, she repeated her earlier question. "Alone?"

"Better that way. Belshimitar has a fully operational complement of AIDDs. With the populace evacuated, they certainly are not overworked. And they can see to my welfare as well as any AIDDs I could take with me."

"But why won't you at least take ADIZ with you?"

Jazon paused, unable to answer as blatantly as he had with ADIZ. "He already has other orders. He is needed at Sanctuary-1. He'll travel there as soon as he's completed the arrangements to assure my safe arrival. I'll make it fine, piloting my own personal cruiser to Belshimitar. Besides, you may have need of him later."

"When will you... come back?" There was strained shudder in Sabanda's voice.

He held her close so she couldn't see his face.  That's my real concern. But I can't blatantly admit I may not be coming back at all. For her sake, I've got to make it light-hearted without sounding phony.

"Hey, sweetie, you know I've never been able to be without you for any real length of time without going crazy. So you can't have the slightest doubt that I'll return to you as soon as I possibly can. But right now, we must trust in Hoga and his powers. Truthfully, what we've seen so far should convince us that his powers are quite impressive." He paused, praying those powers would actually be enough to protect him in the coming days.

"Of course, it would be naive to deny there is danger involved. If it weren't for the sake of the future and safety of billions of Alliance citizens, I wouldn't even consider doing this. But, Sabanda, we can take some consolation in Hoga's counsel that the system will be 'taken.' I much prefer to take that word literally— that it will be 'taken' somewhere else, transferred intact— than to think it might be destroyed. Surely he wouldn't promise to help us, then send me on a suicide mission! And remember that he said there is no 'Intruder'. We both know that neither the trip to Belshimitar nor my time away are really intimidating. The real concern is getting through the transition, itself—if and when it happens."

"Oh, Ja...!" Again her voice broke. She fought to restore her composure. Still struggling for control, she said, "Jace, I'm not letting go of you...not until I absolutely have to."
CHAPTER 50: Coalition

Braang Pzorren tossed down the dregs of his third tall mug of Bajjelmeerian Tipple. Although it was recognized as the foulest brew sold anywhere in the Coalition, Pzorren was addicted to its slightly narcotic effects. Worse, it was one of the few illegal imports his shady business enterprise could not seem to find a consistent supplier for. As a result, he now sat angrily in a back corner of one of Xuudeloee's seediest bars. The vile establishment's only redeeming attribute was that it somehow managed to maintain a constant contraband supply of the thick green rotgut.

He wiped his hand-tailored jacket's sleeve absently at his mouth and yelled for another glass. Reactivating the privacy shield to assure his next comments were not overheard, he addressed the scruffy reprobates sharing his booth. Anger and his excess consumption of Tipple slurred his normally patrician speech. "So, whatchya two incomp...petents are tellin' me is you still got nothin' to nail that poh...posturin' pretender Ptorril? Bah! Whadda ya think I pay ya for? Get out! Find me sumthin good."

His glass of Tipple arrived and he brusquely waved away both its server and the two men, muttering crossly to himself.

* * *

Slipping quietly through the pub's back alley entrance, Pezzer paused only a moment to let his eyes adjust; the dim glow inside was barely brighter than the dark night outside the door. He eased over to the burly barman, covertly revealed a glittering coin and asked, "Is he here?"

The man nodded curtly toward the back corner as the bribe disappeared. "He stopped ordering drinks over an hour ago."

Squaring his shoulders, Pezzer moved more confidently than he felt. Encounters with his father were often memorable, but rarely satisfying. He tapped the wall-speaker near the translucent privacy field and nervously tugged at his jacket.

An imperious voice bellowed, "Who is it and what do you want?"

"It's Pezzer, Father. May I join you?"

"I already said 'what do you want'. Can't you hear, boy?"

"Er... I... uh... need to..."

"Do you even know why you're pestering me? Spit it out!"

"Yes, Sir. But we need to speak privately."

"Haul your scrawny butt in here— and you'd better not be wasting my time!"

Pezzer stepped briskly into the booth, sat across from his father and peered around nervously as privacy was re-engaged. "Opaque the privacy field, perhaps?" he suggested.

"You ungrateful cub! Gettin' too big for your britches? So what if I'm just the second son of the late and oh-so-esteemed Grandfather Braang's third son... are you gettin' too proud to be seen with your own father?"

"Of course not, Sir. But this needs to be..."

"This what?"

Pezzer leaned forward conspiratorially and barely whispered, "I have information. Information that can... help you."

" Slizzle, son! The privacy field is active— speak up!"

Frustrated by years of his father's berating, Pezzer almost shouted. "I have information that can help you!" He tapped his jacket pocket. "Important information."

"What is it?"

"Father, you have always said that information is valuable..."

"No," Pzorren snapped. "As usual, you only hear what you want." He snorted derisively. "Hear me and remember: Power may be gained through the use of valuable information."

Pezzer nodded. "And that's what I have brought you— valuable information."

Pzorren's head tilted and his eyes narrowed. "And what is the nature of this tidbit you've stumbled across?"

" Information known only to Ptoriil and FSO Laytonn... and me. And you know how they conspire against the MAC. I have information that will help you expose Lord Ptoriil's abuse of power. Valuable information that—if you act on it quickly— will weaken Ptoriil and bring honor to you, to House Braang... and to me."

Pzorren leaned back, considering. "Perhaps... if it is of real value. And what, my son, would be your reward?"

"The power it brings House Braang! And, perhaps, you might whisper a word to rid me of my sham Special Aide title. Perhaps, instead... an official position as one of your honored advisors?"

"Oh, ho," Pzorren hooted. "The runt has ambitions after all! So, youngster, time to lay your cards on the table. Is your hand as strong as you claim? What have you?"

Smiling slyly, Pezzer slipped the clandestine report from inside his jacket. "The very first signs of a future system capture!" Pezzer's words raced out as Pzorren scanned the report. "I discovered it, and I compiled this initial summary myself. I'm sure they'll try to hide it... withhold it... from MAC as long as possible." Pezzer finished in a near frenzy, "You can expose their duplicity, their conspiracy— maybe even topple Ptoriil and have House Braang gain the MAC chairmanship!" He beamed with pride.

Pzorren slapped the table and laughed. He reached for his pad, activated it, found the desired file, and spun it around for Pezzer to see. "Clearly, you are ambitious. And," he sneered, " just as clearly, you are a fool! Look! Not only did Laytonn and Ptoriil report the find to the MAC members an hour ago, but their advisory provides considerably more detail than yours— including their request for MAC's approval of specific measures needed to make this capture within one week!"

Pezzer saw it was true. "But... but Laytonn must have spent hours— the entire day— doing the extra analysis and planning herself, and then sent this out while I was searching for you, Father. I tried..."

"And," interrupted Pzorren, "as usual, you have failed. You did not fully analyze the situation. You sent Ptoriil the report too soon. Then you acted too slowly in bringing me your report." His words slashed at Pezzer. "You have wasted an opportunity. And you have wasted my time! You have again proved you are the disappointment I have always feared you would be. Slizzle! Leave me, brat!"

Pezzer fled the tavern, his hopes dashed, humiliated and angry, making promises to himself. One day I'll show you, Father! My chance will come. Someone will recognize my true value... and then— old man— you will curse me no more!"

CHAPTER 51: Alliance

Jazon had been briefed by ADIZ on the preparations that had been made for his flight to Belshimitar. Then he had met privately with Kyell, saying his goodbyes. He also asked him to help Sabanda— both to provide appropriate support as her subordinate, as well as to personally look after her as her friend. Kyell, misty-eyed, had assured Jazon he would do his best on both counts.

Inevitably, the time for departure arrived. Jazon spoke softly to Sabanda, in a husky off-handed manner he hoped might conceal some of his dread. "Now Mrs. Vice-Admiral, if you have nothing more pressing, would you accompany me to the departure bay?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. As they moved toward the bay, their tightly interlocked arms slightly impeded their progress. Neither cared.

When their slow steps brought them to the juncture of the corridor and the bay, he turned to Sabanda and took her in his arms. She looked up. Their lips merged. Jazon held her tightly and thought, I want both of us to remember this kiss.

Finally, after a long good-bye that was still much too short, he stroked her cheek and started backing away. Sabanda reluctantly stood her ground, a tragically solitary figure, striving to bear up under the double burden of the impending loss of her husband and her forced assumption of command.

"Jazon, I do respect you. And admire you. And love you. I know you will do your duty...you always have." Tears flowed, despite promises she had made to herself.

Backing away, a surge of deep emotion flooding him, he called out, "I will...I promise. I don't know when and I don't know how, but I will come back to you. I won't rest comfortably until we're together again."

His progress slowed and stopped, as if magnetically bound to her. His gaze continued so long that a puzzled look entered her eyes. Jazon winked, "I just wanted to have something really beautiful to remember while I go on this little 'vacation.' Whenever I have a moment of free time, I'll be remembering your face, Beautiful."

She struggled to smile, then succeeded. Still, her voice was husky and constricted when she spoke. "I'm in charge now. So you'd better get goin'...you space-slug...before I have you arrested for blocking this corridor."

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as Jazon flashed a rakish salute, then moved to the open door of the command cruiser.

The last words she heard were, "I will be back, Sabanda... because I love you."

CHAPTER 52: Coalition

The time was approaching 2615 Hours; evening had fallen hours before and the first of the moons had almost completed its transit across the clear indigo sky. Most of the business discussion had been completed early that afternoon in Briin's office: the status and progress on Uunokeener's off-line generator, the preliminary positioning of the array, the most recent transition phenomena report, and the projected capture time-line. As the gentle radiance of the second moon began to glimmer over the horizon, the conversation— despite their mutual intentions— drifted into one of their least favorite topics: the conduct of the Mutual Advisory Committee.

"What else would you expect of that crazy collection of cowardly councilmen? They've reached a new peak of panicky paranoia over potential repercussions of this impending capture. They almost passed a quorum resolution 'forbidding' any more alien systems to appear within our cluster...as if erstwhile edicts enacted by egotistical eminences could enjoin the exercise of nature's laws!"

Briin couldn't contain his snicker of agreement at this specific show of ineptitude by the committee, yet felt compelled to offer some defense of the advisory body he headed. "Although I didn't bother with all the bizarre details, I was aware of their attempt. But, Eebri, at least half the Lords did ultimately come to realize the resolution was both specious and futile. So your blanket condemnation seems a bit excessive; they're not all inadequate idiots."

"Of course not. But as a group they lack both the resolve and the courage to even peek over the backyard fence to say 'Hi' to their new neighbors! Will they ever realize that their isolationist stance only exacerbates the issue and increases the suspicion the captured inhabitants undoubtedly will have when we finally make contact? Are the MAC members capable of any coordinated thought or concerted action?"

"Of course they are. You've seen it yourself." He paused dramatically, enjoying her growing disbelief. "They can band together like a pack of desogaks when they sense the opportunity for a kill." Eebri's laugh quickly died as he continued, "And if this next capture were to go seriously wrong— severe damage to one of our population centers, a manned ship destroyed in transit, or heavily traveled nav-lanes being blocked by a dense debris belt— they would instantly band together. They would shred me and then continue fighting among themselves over any bloody piece of me left intact. That's why— as much as I appreciated your displays of both artistry and support— I remain so concerned about the effects of your Verbal Duel with Cjorll and Vstoch. They'll gladly use any despicable means available to revenge the humiliation you heaped on them. And since those hostilities actually erupted over the perception of impropriety..."

"Oh, posh and twaddle! Please stop worrying about them. Everyone knows about the propensity for perversity and prevarication of the Lords Cjorll and Vstoch. Besides, I am a ranking member of your staff! We have a perfect right to conduct our business over dinner, wherever that might be!

"Which reminds me, Briin..." Her posture softened and the intensity of the emerald fire in her eyes burned lower. "Our dinner at the Pub might have seemed a bit shady because of the place's reputation, but this— the Towers-Crest— is a significant upgrade! Of course, despite its high visibility as the elite meeting place in Xuudeloee for the powers-that-be, we both know that the food is no better than the Pub's scrumptious aaxlotl steak. But the setting? Presentation? Atmosphere? This is truly elegant! I'm glad you asked me to join you."

He gave a self-deprecating wave of dismissal for the implied thanks, but before he could reply, she continued, now with a harsh edge to her tone. "However, I have noticed that it is still a private balcony, inaccessible by sight or sound to any of the other V.I.P. patrons present. I'm almost convinced that you are afraid to be seen with me in a truly public setting!"

Her tone had not become acid, but it did carry a caustic edge. "Briin, are you afraid that some prying Lord will get the idea that our relationship is personal rather than professional, or that some imperious official might imagine that it could compromise our working relationship?"

Before he could counter or respond, soft music began and an announcement sounded: "Attention! Your attention please! Conditions are ideal and relative placement will be reached in less than twenty seconds. In keeping with the traditions of Zelaanz, please maintain silence until the experience is complete."

Light from two distant sources, one moon far in the west, the other still rising on the eastern horizon, shone across the skyline in the initial stages of a rare interplay of intensity, contrast and— most significantly— color.

The eastern faces of the city's remarkable collection of government buildings, sylvan parks and ornate shrines luxuriated in the rich golden-hue from Zeloti's huge rising bulk. Simultaneously, their western facades were bathed in the eerie glow cast by the pale ice-blue globe of Aanzelota. Where the light from the two moons met and slowly blended, the city was bathed in a cool aqua sheen, painting the planet with a unique pastel tint created from nature's unlimited palette.

The natives of Caaljeron called the blended color "Zelaanz." That specific color had come to be especially cherished by Caaljeron's inhabitants, in appreciation for the rarity of its natural occurrence. It had first been seen in those rare few minutes, on only one or two clear and crisp autumn nights each year, when the radiance of the full and rising Zeloti merged with the illumination from the full and setting Aanzelota. Its only other natural occurrence was in one of the planet's rarest and most precious stones, which had also come to be called "Zelaanz."

Briin sat at their table, staring, mesmerized. Yet he was oblivious to the featured sight, spread out six hundred meters below his private balcony, of the city being transformed into a mystical masterpiece by the greatest of artists. But though he ignored that spectacular sight below, his attention was riveted— on the breathtaking image of a motionless Eebri. who

Eebri was both transfixed and transformed by the subtle interplay of light and color. Her usually ruby hair was burnished by the Zelaanzian light to a deep copper hue, her rare milk-white skin appeared to have acquired a patina of verdigris. The shimmering silver gown she had specially selected for this exceptional occurrence glistened as if made of myriad Zelaanz gems, accented by glittering gold and ice-blue highlights.

She is the perfect image of the bronze statue of the goddess, Dhaalmla! It's as if the All Planets Museum had loaned out that beautiful and priceless work of art to the Tower-Crest, to place on my private balcony, completing the perfection of this evening. I knew she was beautiful, but now...

The illusion was only partly broken as she turned; Briin viscerally reacted with the feeling that the animated, living reality of Eebri was even more magnificent and vibrantly exciting than the mythical Dhaalmla's inert image could ever be.

Eebri motioned gracefully, with subtle feminine gestures, yet somehow encompassing the entire sweep and aura of the event. "Oh, Briinie," she whispered, "isn't it just..." The tilt of her head indicated that she was searching some inner realm in her attempt to discover sufficiently descriptive words for the otherworldly beauty of the transcendental scene. The pause continued for long seconds.

He recovered his breath and a slow grin lit his face. "Why, Eebri, I believe you are at a loss for words. I never believed it could happen to you!"

Her responding pout was erased as he continued. "The only way to do justice to the exquisite beauty of this ethereal event, my dear, is to say that it is almost as lovely as you."

Eebri remained speechless. However her incipient frown had been transformed into an elated smile, and a tear of joy coursed down her blushing cheek. For only a moment, the tear flashed in a spectrum of gem-like colors; then the Zelaanzian atmosphere faded as Aanzelota dipped below the horizon.

She stirred slowly as if awakening from an exquisite dream. She wiped away the tear, smiled shyly, and said with a twinkle, "Well, Briinie, I guess that means the forecasters' jobs will remain safe a little longer."

Somewhat embarrassed, he chuckled, "If I had known how truly remarkable the experience would be, I'd have threatened their lives instead of just their positions. I have observed the Zelaanzian light phenomenon twice before, but never has the experience been so incredible as with you tonight."

The silence stretched for several minutes as they watched the remaining moon rise, each lost in their separate memories of the wonder of the experience. Finally, Briin mustered the courage to voice— at least in part— what had long been gestating his mind. He took her hand and said, "Eebri, I would be happy to be seen with you anywhere, anytime. In fact, more and more often I'm finding myself considering some future function and having difficulty imagining you not being with me...whether it's in public or in private, for official business or purely personal reasons. So...uh...I was hoping... Could I ask you something?"

Eebri nodded cautiously, expectantly, holding her breath as she anxiously wound a strand of hair about her ring finger.

"I would be honored if you would agree to join with me at the official viewing of the upcoming system capture..." Seeing disappointment in Eebri's eyes and the sense of deflation as she exhaled her long-held breath, Briin hurried on, "as my personal guest aboard my private cruiser. If you would like, we might make it a combined business and pleasure trip. After the capture is completed, perhaps you'd like to slip away together to a secluded location for a few days."

Eebri quickly removed her hand from his grasp, and a tear glistened in her eye. Briin could not imagine why his words would elicit such a reaction. He paused, unsure of what else he could or should say. Finally he finished rather lamely, "I really wish you would at least consider my offer."

After taking several deep breaths to regain her composure, Eebri began to speak slowly and precisely, as if officially advising the Chief of State on a high-level policy matter. "I realize how much...thought...you have put into asking me to...take this step.

"Anyone who matters would know that my observing the transfer is perfectly in keeping with my position and my need to keep current on the state of the captured systems. But if I am seen by a member of the opposition traveling to the event with you on your private vessel, or observed by them disembarking with you in the vicinity of the capture site, it will only serve to fuel the fires that busybodies like Cjorll and Vstoch hope to spread.

She looked away, wiped her eye and finished, "So, Briin, while the possibility of attending the capture with you might be one which I would otherwise welcome, I am afraid I must respectfully decline your offer. And as for the private getaway..."

Briin worriedly interrupted. "Brie, I would hope that by now you know that I do want both an official and a personal relationship with you. For myself, I couldn't care what those feckless fools on the council think. Or— for that matter— what the entire population of the Realm thinks! I wouldn't care if they knew it was purely personal— this is between us. But I don't want you to feel forced into anything that would be uncomfortable, or that would harm you personally or professionally, or that would sully your reputation. So, Eebri, forget for now that I asked about a private getaway after the transfer. We can discuss that later, if you would like. And, as for the gossip mongers, I'm sure I can make appropriate travel arrangements that will appease even the worst of them.

"The plain truth is that I'll be much happier if you are there with me, Brie. And though I know from previous experience that the transfer of an entire solar system can be an awe inspiring sight, it's no more awe inspiring than you are tonight, no more so than you are each and every time I see you. I want to be with you, Brie! And I want you to be with me. Won't you please reconsider?"

The twinkle had returned to her eye. "Yes, Briinie, I will...since you asked me so nicely."
CHAPTER 53: Alliance

ADIZ moved swiftly down one of Sanctuary-1's wide underground corridors. A little more than two hundred miles long, the corridor extended out almost a hundred miles from the central hub of Sanctuary-1, made a broad sweeping "petal shaped" turn, then returned to connect with the central hub. Spaced at regular intervals along the corridor were 500 side tunnels, each connecting to 10 large rooms. Every one of those rooms contained 250 of the Alliance's sleeping citizens, with every person's life-support system functioning independently of all others. A total of eight such petal-shaped corridors wound throughout this level, each critical to the complex sanctuary's purposeful design.

From the center of the "petal" of each corridor, vertical shafts plummeted eight miles deep into the planet's mantle, connecting with ninety-nine other levels— each identical to the level which ADIZ now traversed. Each of those levels also contained 40,000 separate rooms, and in each of those rooms were 250 hibernation capsules maintaining the life and health of a sleeping Alliance citizen. Each hibernation room had an dedicated AIDD whose single duty was to constantly monitor and maintain the safety and health of that room's sleeping citizens.

ADIZ's prime duty was to oversee and assure the flawless operation of the central control center and all 100 levels of this vast facility, including its 400,000 rooms which contained and protected, in total, one billion sleeping souls.

He had been performing a standard periodic full-system check when a signal called him to observe a development relating to the Admiral's special orders. He rode a high-speed transport to reach the vertical shaft that connected to the indicated unit. Then, using a freight lift, he slowly descended more than five miles down to reach the ninety-eighth level.

He chafed at the delay the lift caused. Ruefully shaking his head, he realized he had chafed, then realized he was rueful. Irritated by these emotional distractions, he decided to postpone analysis of those pesky feelings.

After Jazon's departure for Belshimitar, he had returned to Alpha Byreen III and Sanctuary-1. The travel had been done at Phase-10, requiring about two days instead of less than an hour at Kepren's max-Phase. That fact had not been a major concern. However, the Admiral's safety had been. Accordingly, ADIZ had first taken— out of his own concern— the precautions of having a Pilot-AIDD completely serviced to be available for the Admiral's trip. Then he reassured himself it was fully capable of piloting the Admiral's cruiser. He also directed the pilot to remain with Jazon's craft on Belshimitar, awaiting the Admiral's use.

ADIZ marveled that he had unilaterally taken these actions. Concern? Reassured myself?  He slowly shook his head— then realized how illogical it was to shake his head.  Am I malfunctioning?

He recalled that Memnon had said that these feelings would come as they would, and that the reaction to those feelings...emotions...often were illogical. Obviously, he was now learning just how true— and how distressing— that could be.

Making his exit, he rode down to Side Tunnel 475, where the transport stopped, and strode into Room Four. A rapid exchange occurred with the room's monitoring robot. ADIZ then opened a com-link to the command center, established a link to Kepren, and transmitted a priority message.

He now faced a few hours of relative inactivity while awaiting the final stages of Dristane's awakening process. He used the time to conduct the deferred analysis of his new emotions. Before reviewing his earlier illogical and conflicting sensations, he paused to analyze his current state.

Remarkable. Most Interesting. Per the Admiral's "personally oversee" directive, my programming logic required, that I make the trip into the depths of the facility in order to directly observe the final wakening stages. Oddly, my emotional connection with the Admiral urged that I take that same action, in order to assure his complete approval of the results.

A remarkably interesting development; my logic and emotions concur on the proper action to take. Perhaps it will be possible for the two to work in harmony.

* * *

It was late afternoon at the underground center at Kepren. Sabanda was reviewing that morning's pleasant dream. This once had been the normal procedure for her, but now was much too rarely enjoyed. It was a satisfying dream about strolling hand in hand with Jazon during a visit to the Erola system's garden planet. The muted com–link at her desk began to blink furiously, clashing with the peaceful feeling of the dream. She responded curtly, "Yes?"

"Vice-Admiral, this is CLIO. I have a message from Sanctuary-1 that carries the non-standard designation of 'semi-urgent.' Shall I deliver it now?"

"Proceed." Sabanda brightened a bit, hoping it would be news about Jazon, yet knowing the hope was irrational.

The standard source heading identified the sender as ADIZ. Time in transmissions: 2.21 hours. Message duration at burst speed: 0.0013 seconds. Sabanda spoke an impatient word to bypass the remaining notations. The message's contents immediately ensued:

Per Admiral Ozier's instructions, systems activation initiated two days ago at 1900 hours on hibernation unit #203 on Level Ninety-Eight, Corridor Number Eight, Side Tunnel Number 475, Room Number Four.

Proper temperature gradient progression reported on target capsule. All support functions proceeding nominally. Increasing body temperature initiated automatic stimulation to partial wakefulness, and monitors indicated normal sequence to full alertness could be safely followed. Awakening continued under direct operator control until occupant transitioned from hibernation state into partial consciousness.

Following nominal course under full automatic restoration programming, occupant is projected to regain full consciousness at 2015 Hours Kepren. When occupant is fully self-directing, non-standard orientation will be required.

Awaiting your instructions.

Sabanda frowned. The purpose of this awakening was to provide assistance to Jazon. Now Jazon was gone.  Should we continue to awaken this scientist now? What could he do until Jazon's return? For that matter, who is he? She could have requested the information immediately but, with several pressing duties to perform, she decided to secure the needed information as she passed by the Hibernation Registry Center.

When she arrived, an AIDD performed a nano-second scan, then asked, "May I help you, Vice-Admiral Ozier?"

"Yes. A person in Sanctuary-1 is emerging from hibernation. I'll need a summary bio of Dr. Kirqlin Dristane. Display on screen now, followed by hard copy."

The AIDD made no overt moves, but the screen immediately displayed the requested information:

Kirqlin Dristane, Male, Age 38 At Hibernation Induction.

S-1/AB-III; L98/C8/ST475/R4/C203

Highest Education: 2 separately earned degrees;

Doctorate of Cosmological Astrophysics

Doctorate of Applied Science Systems

Specialties: Astrophysics & Propulsion Systems Design;

(Multiple Awards For Excellence In Each Field.)

Assigned To Kepren & Chadalmencondra

(Alternately In Half-Year Kepren Transit Cycles.)

Marital Status: Single, never married.

Children: None.

Non-Work Interests: None Recorded.

Sports/Hobbies: None Recorded.

End Synopsis Report.

Sabanda's eyebrows went up. Here was a citizen who might offer determined resistance to being returned to hibernation. Of course, one more "consciousness" was probably insufficient to raise brain wave activity measurably. He did seem qualified and the time-travel question did need answering. Plus, she privately admitted, it might be nice to have some additional human company.

She spoke into the air. "CLIO?"

"Responding."

"The person just out of Sanctuary-1 hibernation is to be instructed that he may exercise his choice about re-entering hibernation or remaining conscious. On my authority, you are instructed to invite him to join us here on Kepren...and to inform him that if he comes, we shall probably resent his presence and immediately give him multiple work assignments requiring long hours of work on various activities. Use a transmission level appropriate for a 2.25 hour message transit time. Should he make the decision to come to Kepren, inform him that Phase-10 travel has been authorized. Tell him to use the travel time to complete his physical rehabilitation and bring himself completely up to date so he's ready to work the moment he arrives. Repeat message."

CLIO dutifully repeated the message, then sent it on its way.

Well done! Sabanda congratulated herself.  How could a person who has no interests other than work resist such an invitation?
CHAPTER 54: Alliance

The sleeping figure roused slightly, a fleeting look of confused annoyance crossing his face. Kirq Dristane had been dreaming of an esoteric facet of astrophysics that brooked no interference. Yet consciousness intruded. An unwelcome surge of emotion distracted him, then waned. His awakening mind examined this feeling as though testing it for flavor and substance, then rejected it as unimportant. His hand twitched, reminding him that he possessed a physical body.

With a sigh, he filed away his earlier dream-thoughts to that "safekeeper" part of his mind he rigidly reserved for "ideas to work on." Begrudgingly focusing his attention on physical reality, he experimentally moved a foot. It responded marginally. A sensation of mild rhythmic pressure appeared, soon followed by his awareness of his own breathing. With a flick of his tongue and a twinge of revulsion, he realized his mouth was powder dry and his lips were slightly crusted.

What's wrong? Where am I?  Gathering his scattered faculties, he focused all his efforts into a singularly focused act: one eye opened. Not by much, to be sure, but enough to receive a few foggy images, marginally recognizable as belonging to the outside world. Detecting a slight motion, he screwed up his courage and opened the other eye. Even through both eyes, the world remained vexingly fuzzy, but one image resolved into the vague shape of a person. Someone quite near Kirq. As his vision gradually sharpened, he saw a bronzed metallic face peering down at him attentively.

The robot spoke. "Dr. Dristane?"

Before hearing his name, he had not bothered recalling the past. He had confined his attentions to the vaguely familiar act of waking up. Now, memories formed. A threat. Imposed hibernation. When the threat was countered, they could be awakened.

I've been awakened!

He jerked upright so fast that only the lightning reflexes of his attendant prevented a painful collision of his face with the AIDD's. His head was heavy, unbalanced, spinning. Recovering his composure somewhat, he moved his mouth minimally in a dimly remembered way. Through a mouth that seemed only distantly connected to him, he stammered, "Where... where am... I?"

"Sir, you are in the Sanctuary-1 hibernation facility, Corridor..."

"Never m-mind the rest," Kirq mumbled. "D-Date... time?"

The AIDD told him. The simple mental calculation seemed as difficult as a quantum photonics calculation. Finally the answer came:  Almost four years since I entered hibernation. The pervading stillness, unbroken except for the faint hum of nearby life-support machines, registered on his returning faculties. Looking slowly around, he found that he was the only one returning to consciousness. Why only me? Has some malfunction awakened me?

When he was able to ask, Kirq was assured that all was well and that his awakening was in compliance with a directive from Kepren.

The robot then stated, "If you do not wish to be awake, we can return you to hibernation sleep in 1.25 hours or less."

Kirq considered the possibility of a return to the oblivion of hibernation.  A choice? Do I want to sleep more? And not know?  He discarded the idea disdainfully. "Not on your microchips, metal-man. And where is everybody? Or anybody that's awake, that is." He finished sourly, thinking that "they" might prevent him from returning to his work.

There was a pause that lasted several seconds and Kirq realized the AIDD must be checking a wide range of data and communications before replying. "Sir, you are the only person currently awake in Sanctuary-1. The Kepren Command Center was notified earlier of your impending return to consciousness. We should receive instructions momentarily."

Kirq said, "Is anyone else awake...in the whole Kepren Cluster?" Kirq almost immediately recognized that this was too broad a question; the search might require hours to complete. "Strike that...Is anyone awake on Kepren?"

"Yes, Dr. Dristane. Vice-Admiral Ozier and Commodore Kyell Trandic are awake and currently on Kepren. A complement of thirty-five Khyltians are active aboard a displaced communications center which is now in close orbital proximity to Kepren. Finally, the stored essence of Talir Brovean, past-President of the Alliance, currently maintains active awareness that is legally defined as 'living'."

Not very many, thought Kirq.  And why would they have moved the Wasp? Suspecting some ominous new development, he asked, "Has some current situation required their being awake...awakened?"

"I am unable to provide that information at this time, Dr. Dristane. Until Kepren command replies, I can only tell you that your awakening is the result of an order from the Fleet Admiral, and that no new crisis threatens your safety."

At that moment, one of the small personal transports moved up to his cubicle and stopped. The first robot spoke again. "You may wish to freshen yourself. A room has been prepared for your convenience, containing cleansing facilities and fresh clothing. Food is being prepared and will be brought to your room. Should you prefer, you may use the group dining hall."

Kirq dropped his feet over the side of the pallet and stepped gingerly into the transport, barely tolerating the necessity of being assisted in his unsteady movement by the AIDD. "I'll clean up first. Bring the food to my room exactly thirty minutes after I arrive there, and make sure there's plenty of hot brew. Let's get a move on!"

The robot acknowledged the directive and the carrier immediately started toward.

* * *

ADIZ received instructions from Kepren Command and duly reported them to Dr. Dristane as he ate. He was offered the choice: return to sleep or report to Kepren and be "put to work." Kirq quizzed ADIZ at length and gained the overall, if somewhat sketchy, picture of what had happened while he was in hibernation. He chose to go to Kepren. Transport was available immediately, and he saw no reason to delay. He had no personal possessions; they were all in storage on Kepren. He headed for departure bay on the upper levels.

He had learned the purpose of his own revitalization: the time-travel question. He had received the message from the Vice-Admiral, and judged it to be quite dismissive and less than properly respectful to a man of his intellect. Kirq was further piqued that Admiral Ozier would not be there to receive him personally, especially since it was the Admiral who had ordered him to be brought out of hibernation. Still, ADIZ had hinted that the cause of the Admiral's absence might be quite serious.

The carrier reached the ship and Kirq boarded with the self-assured thought, It is obvious that, until the Admiral returns, I should be allowed to resume my research. A wave of irritation swept over him. Obvious to me, but— as with most lesser intellects— the Vice-Admiral will surely need to be dazzled and convinced. So, I suppose, I should prepare a brilliant presentation for the Vice-Admiral and her underlings, detailing the vital importance of my work and the unarguable necessity of completing my experiments. Once they recognize my unparalleled ability, they will, have no choice but to let me return to my research.

* * *

"Well, I've confirmed that Dristane is on his way. He'll be here in two days, probably late in the morning," Kyell said as he and Sabanda walked through the hallway that opened to the elevated breezeway near the Command Center. "Do you think he'll give us any real help...or just be a total nuisance?" It was phrased as a question, but Kyell's tone revealed his very definite opinion.

Sabanda shrugged, "With the arrangement we've just completed, we have little enough to do until we hear from Jazon. Besides, I went back and reviewed Dristane's full dossier. He certainly has an impressive educational background and work résumé. His credentials really are exceptional. Even though his early work was mostly theoretical, his more recent efforts actually have focused on more practical applications. Just before hibernation, he was working on a device that— theoretically— could result in some new mode of transportation. I could barely fathom his theory's complex physics, but it seems to involve developing an entirely new concept of rapid, controlled movement through interstellar space."

"Yeah, I saw the brief of his background: Astrophysics and propulsion systems— two heavies. I bet it won't take long for him to brag about how brilliant he is, and then bore us to death with his theories," groused Kyell. "I wonder if he ever gets tired of carrying his head around."

He noticed, with gratification, that Sabanda hiding a smile and a certain merriment dancing in her eyes.  Oh, well. Right now I'd be willing to suffer any fool if it'll take her mind off her worries, even for a little while.

Encouraged, Kyell continued his jest, "Or, maybe, instead of one swelled head, he has two smaller ones. That way, when they're not lecturing at us, they can argue with each other."

Sabanda, giggled at Kyell's fresh reprise of his long-standing disdain for intellectuals. Then she remarked dryly, "Well then, you'd better remember not to butt heads with him. You're outnumbered!"

CHAPTER 55: Coalition

The music was decidedly harsh and atonal, consistent with the current trend among the younger set— and abrasively criticized by the older generations. However, for Faantian Aalteea, it served as a perfect background to her study of the language and culture of the Alliance worlds. Her petite body unconsciously swayed to the dissonant music which contrasted so strongly with the melodic cadences of the primary Alliance language.

Aalteea's fascination with the captured planets had come quite naturally. At the time of the first star system's capture, she was the eight-year-old first grandchild of Lord Regent Faantian Thlomaz. As a result, she had spent over half her life listening avidly to dinner table discussions of the continuing arrival of the star systems and the political crises they had caused. Her early fascination with the captures, combined with her natural flair with languages, had progressed from being an interesting hobby to a steadfast avocation and finally to its becoming her professional focus.

She had so excelled in languages in her early schooling that she had gained accelerated admittance to the university's premier language program, graduating with highest honors while still in her teens. Her post-grad work had set the standard for interpreting and understanding the Alliance's languages and cultures, and she was now— at the tender age of twenty-two— the recognized expert in the field.

A tone sounded just as the latest Alliance communications recording ended. She stopped both the recording and the music, then answered the intercom.

"Lady Aalteea, a call for you from Lord Ptoriil's senior administrative aide, Malaar," her assistant announced. "Can you take it now?"

"Certainly, Dheelah. Put him through."

Malaar's voice had developed its crisp and efficient tone over many years of service as an aide to Briin. "Lady Faantian, would it be possible for you to accept Lord Ptoriil's request that you join him on his cruiser and act as his primary administrative aide during the upcoming star system capture?"

"He has specifically requested my presence?" Her puzzlement was clear. "He is aware, I am sure, that the specific dynamics and processes of stellar captures are well outside my area of specialty. Those scientific aspects, I fear, are beyond my expertise."

"I can assure you that Lord Ptoriil is well aware of your particular talents. You hold a commission as a Lieutenant in the Coalition's service, and you are fully qualified to act as the administrative aide to your Commander-in-Chief. Also, he felt it could be to your professional benefit to personally observe the capture. However, I believe he has additional reasons for requesting your presence." A hint of amusement had entered Malaar's voice. "FSO Laytonn will be accompanying him on his cruiser, and he feels it would be... fitting and proper... to have more than just one female member serving on his immediate staff during this event."

Aalteea paused, rapidly considering the implications. Might the rumors about their relationship be true, or is Briin simply wanting to prevent further speculation?

Before she could verbally respond, Malaar continued. "It is also my impression that Lord Ptoriil would be more comfortable having you there, considering the long-standing friendship you and he have shared. Further— if I may be so bold— I believe you have, on more than one occasion, expressed your regrets at never having directly experienced a system's transfer. His invitation may be, in part, a way to provide you with the opportunity to fulfill your desire to personally witness a capture."

"That would be typical of Briin's thoughtfulness." Aalteea's pulse increased. "Have you previously accompanied Lord Ptoriil and personally experienced past system captures?"

"I have."

"Then, may I ask," the excitement in her voice growing, "is it as impressive as I have always heard?"

"Much more than impressive," he responded warmly. "It is truly awe inspiring... and such a rare opportunity should not be missed. May I convey your acceptance to Lord Ptoriil?"

"Yes! Please do, with my thanks! And, Malaar, my thanks to you, as well."

"Glad I could be of service, Lady Faantian. I will send the details of the schedule and itinerary to your assistant immediately."

As Malaar signed off, Aalteea's excitement multiplied. What a wonderful opportunity! Plus, I will finally get to meet the renowned Laytonn Eebri... and see for myself if the rumors about her and Briin might be true.

CHAPTER 56: Alliance

Jazon sat on a stone bench in Aairon's Plaza of the Worlds. The Plaza was a well-appointed open-air exhibit of notable achievements from each of the worlds of the Alliance. From his vantage point, Jazon could look directly down two of the wide boulevards that converged in front of him. Diminishing rows of luxuriant trees, their lower branches removed to frame an unobstructed view, marked the center of each avenue. Belshimitar was one of Jazon's favorite worlds and Aairon, situated in a semi-arid coastal zone— between the ocean and a long mountain range– it seemed suspended in almost perpetual springtime.

The leaves of nearby trees rustled in a vagrant breeze. Their whispers spoke to Jazon of another time and place of pastoral beauty and pleasure: Earth, with Samantha and Kyle.  Our existence there was rarely touched by even the slightest anxiety or real fear.  How very different it is now.  The whispering sound came again and Jazon recalled the meandering pathway leading to the clearing near his farm.  Earth.  How provincial we all were then...and how comfortable! The older I get, the better I can appreciate why Uncle Ned and Aunt Martha chose to live "in the old style"—with all the modern conveniences available, of course, though disguised.

A capricious zephyr wafted a gentle mist in his direction from the Plaza's tall central fountain, and he experienced the double pleasure of the concentrated scent of flowers mixed with the cooling breeze.

The wide diversity and vibrant colors of the flowering plants, bushes and trees vividly reminded Jazon of past holidays spent there. His thoughts flowed back to the last time— could it really have been fourteen years ago?— when last he and Sabanda had visited this spot. Multitudes of people from throughout the Cluster had milled about the Plaza, strolling happily up and down the wide streets.

On that occasion he had chafed at the unavoidable noise created by throngs of vibrant people. Now he found the cathedral stillness somber and oppressive. The only sounds were those of the fountain, the rustle of quaking leaves as the wind played through the trees, and the occasional metallic step of a mechanical conservator.

A little ditty he heard on Earth replayed in his mind:  Johnny doesn't live here any more....

On a sudden impulse, Jazon called out, "Center?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

Jazon smiled, pleased the communications center was tracking him.  "Make contact with Vice-Admiral Ozier. Wait...Belay that order!" Jazon realized he didn't know what time it was on Kepren. He didn't want to disturb Sabanda's sleep without good reason. "Center, advise the current time on Kepren."

Following the briefest pause the response came. "Sir, it is currently 2010 hours at the Ganlon meridian."

Good; early evening. It's not too late to call her.  "Establish 'fastest mode' communications with Vice-Admiral Ozier at the Mathlen Command Center. Alert her that her husband wishes to speak with her. We haven't spoken since I left five days ago— I must speak with her.

After a short pause, Sabanda's voice sounded loud and clear. "Jazon! I'm so glad you called! I would have called you, but I realized you might be in the middle of something and... Oh, I'm so glad to hear from you!" Are you OK? Was your trip uneventful?"

"Completely... except for one thing. Despite my order that I would come alone and pilot my own ship, ADIZ inserted a Pilot-AIDD on my cruiser. It reported its presence just after takeoff and explained that ADIZ directed it to stand by and allow me act as pilot— but to remain alert and to assist, or even take over— in the event of any emergency."

"Jazon, are you saying that ADIZ violated your direct order?"

"No... not exactly," he sighed. "It was more like he used a loophole. My order was for ADIZ to 'make all necessary arrangements'— and he chose to interpret my wording in a way that allowed him to circumvent my intent. The AIDD said that he was told by ADIZ that it would be a failure of duty not to make whatever arrangements might be necessary to meet all contingencies."

"How creative!" Sabanda tittered. "And I'm sure he learned about how to do that from you, Jazon!"

"Well... maybe," Jazon grumped. " Still, it concerns me. Keep an eye on him."

"Sure, Jace. Will do." A slight pause, then, "Any...uh, news?"

"No, absolutely nothing has happened here," Jazon responded cheerfully. "Of course, Hoga didn't say precisely when the SD would happen— just when I should arrive. In the meantime, I am living in the lap of luxury, over-eating every chance I get, being ministered to by all the AIDDs and enjoying Aairon's sublime weather. In fact, it's so pleasant that I just might apply for this job permanently!"

"Jazon! Don't you dare even think of it! Unless, of course, you're including me in your premature retirement plans. Where are you right now?"

"Well, I was too lazy to return to my room. I'm really roughing it here, bunking in the Presidential Suite at the top of Plaza Towers. It's on the thirtieth level, and that one minute ride in the lift just tires me out. So, on the chance a Com-AIDDs was in shouting distance, I simply spoke a little louder. That really exhausted me. I may have to rest a minute. Anyway, they must have been targeting me with a track-mic, so here we are, talking to each other."

"Oh, you're such a tease!  So where are you now?"

"Well, to answer your question, I'm outside on the glorious pavilion. You remember the stone benches in the heart of the Plaza? I'm sitting on one of them right now... and they're just as hard as we both remember!"

An awkward silence ensued. Any more idle banter seemed silly, but neither wanted to break the light mood they had established. Sabanda finally asked hesitantly, "Jazon, isn't the time— Hoga's predicted time— getting awfully close?"

He tried to maintain the light mood. "Yeah, maybe something will finally happen tonight. I'm planning to go and eat a second lavish supper, so I'm hoping it will hold off until then. All this relaxing is really making me hungry."

"Jazon, you're crazy!  But I love you."

"I love you too, Sabanda! And I'm really sorry I didn't call sooner. Honestly, I have been watching and watching and, you know how it seems that if you take a moment off to do something else, it will happen while you're not watching. The truth is, it's a bit nerve wracking.

"But enough about me. Are you having any difficulties? I hope you're not just sitting around biting your fingernails. And that Kyell is keeping you sufficiently occupied... but, of course, not too well occupied!"

"Jazon, you are a tease. Yes, Kyell is almost always by my side— helping me with my work! And your pet scientist, Dristane, arrived today. Kyell insists on calling him, 'Kirq the Jerk, but— thankfully— not to his face!' You know how little he thinks of what he calls 'these theoretical swelled heads.' In fact, Kyell has predicted we won't have time to worry about our other problems now that we have Dristane's ego to worry about.

"And Dristane did create a bit of a stir, right off the ship. He had an elaborate presentation ready that he insisted on showing us the moment he arrived. Kyell was livid, so I sent him topside while Dristane made the presentation to me. Basically, it was one long brag about how smart and talented he is— and how essential his pet projects are. It was so transparent I had to keep from laughing... between my suppressed yawns. Of course, we did need some way to keep him busy until you return. So, to keep him happy and out from under our feet, I gave him permission to resume the experiment he had been working on here at the Science Lab before hibernation began."

"Good idea, Sabanda. But make sure he brings himself current on time-travel theories. Maybe he'll have some good answers for me when I get back." Jazon halted, unsure how to continue. They were running out of purposeful communication, but neither wanted it to stop.

"Sabanda, I guess I had better break this off and go earn my pay. Oh! I nearly forgot. Have you contacted Talir Brovean? He might offer you some support, and I wonder if he has some insights to offer that could prove to be valuable."

"It's crossed my mind too, but I wasn't really sure I should disturb him. Since you agree it might be worthwhile, I'll visit with him tomorrow— if he's available."

"I'm sure he'll be available to you. Sabanda, I hope to see you soon...and remember always that I love you."

"Oh, Jazon..." Sabanda stifled a soft sob. "Jazon, take care of yourself. Now go eat that second supper and get fat. Gain thirty pounds. See if I care."

Jazon couldn't let her go with a jest.  It might be the last time I'll ever talk with her. His response was warm and confident. "No, Sam, that's the wonder of my life— I always know how much you care."

The connection was broken and he mused aloud, "I know I don't deserve a lady as wonderful and lovely as Sabanda...but I'm awfully glad she's mine."

He shifted on the stone bench. It suddenly seemed harder than ever. A movement on the street caused Jazon to snap around. He chided himself for his edginess when he saw that it was just one of the maintenance-bots sweeping dust from the boulevard. I know there's no one on this world but me and the AIDDs, but this forced inactivity makes me jumpy! Of course, patience has never been my greatest virtue.

Realizing this fact did not cure the condition.

Something should have happened by now. Could Hoga have been wrong?

He remembered the display of the Plathymiir system in the projection room on Mathlen. It was almost as if ADIZ had prepared the display of vital statistics even before Jazon had asked.  How was he able to prepare precisely what I wanted before I could complete my request? He had pondered along these lines fruitlessly several times already, but the questions repeatedly returned to vex him.

Then he felt a firm sense of rightness, something much stronger than any hunch. The hair rose on his arms as he realized the odd sense was something outside his normal perception— neither completely internal nor completely external— as if some "otherness" was impinging upon his awareness. It felt alien to his own consciousness, yet neither invasive nor hostile.

<<This System Will Soon Be Taken>>
CHAPTER 57: Coalition

The view was spectacular, even breathtaking.

Lord Ptoriil gazed out one of his private cruiser's spacious view ports and reflected.  Arrayed across vast star-strewn distances in space, yet they look like a string of pearls floating faintly in starlight. The generators look so small, but actually are so huge— immense beyond imagination. It's hard to truly appreciate their size without resorting to imponderable technical specifications. Yet these mighty engines will act at our bidding, unleashing their combined energies to guide an unstoppable force in rending the fabric of the universe.

He shuddered. His discomfort was not entirely due to the vivid image. He couldn't shake his unaccountable aversion to space flight. Personally, he would have preferred to skip this trip. However, as Commander-in-Chief, he could hardly fail to make the appearance.  My real consolation is that Eebri agreed to travel with me.

Briin's command ship merited a prime, unobstructed view of the long line of massive transition-field generators stretching into distant space. Their construction had consumed virtually the entire heavy metal content of one major asteroid belt and two uninhabited worlds. He marveled that the ongoing marshaling of these forces was being performed principally by unapproachably huge machines. Only self-replicating machines, each creating ever-larger versions of themselves, could ever have attained this size. The tradeoff was that no living being could ever approach them closely with impunity. The focused spectrum of their intense radiation— harmless to their specially hardened robot attendants— would fry us in seconds.

At this considerable distance from the closest transition-field generator, Briin could not visually resolve any but its largest component parts. However, he knew that each complex machine was a blocky cube almost a thousand kilometers on each side. Each "face" of the cube contained numerous mechanical appendages and protuberances in a variety of shapes and sizes, with a wide variety of functions.

Briin had earlier pointed out one of the "smaller" visible appendages, commenting that the part looked "frail and easily broken."

A crew member politely informed him that "small arm" was over a kilometer in diameter, and that it required the combined efforts of the three largest robots tending the titanic cube to simply reset that single arm's functions.

His thoughts returned to a more immediate and enjoyable subject: Eebri. She had excused herself earlier and retired to a rear compartment of the ship. She had been absent long enough that he was concerned she might have experienced some embarrassing low-gravity powder-room accident. Upon her return, her immaculate appearance proved that no such incident had occurred. Still, he couldn't resist the rare opportunity to tease her.

"I was about to mount a rescue mission." He winked. "I was afraid you might be floating in the fresher."

Her look of disdain was one she used to wither perpetrators of pointed innuendoes and veiled barbs. "You are just oozing with sensitivity, Your Grace." He winced from the sharpness of her voice. "But put your mind at rest. I know enough to lock down the covers before activating the flow handles."

Briin winced again, then shrugged apologetically. "So is everything OK... er, uh, I mean... for the transition?"

Smiling at Briin's now careful choice of words, she replied with calm authority, "Yes, Your Grace. The equipment check has been completed and the on-line repositioning of the repaired unit is concluding, probably as we speak. The haze pulse-rate has remained constant for ten minutes, so the capture should occur on schedule. Nature is cooperating with us on this one... so far."

She slid her slender fingers through her thick scarlet mane. It reminded Briin that her hairstyle was a less restrained than her usual "official duty" plaited twist.

He smiled. "Excellent! I pray all goes well." He noticed that his designated administrative aide for this trip was nearby, apparently unmindful of them as she stared out another viewport. There were a number of reasons Briin had no concern about her spying on them or their conversation. First, Faantian Aalteea was the granddaughter of Lord Faantian Thlomaz, one of House Ptoriil's oldest and staunchest allies. Secondly, since her grandfather had been such a loyal, life-long friend of Lord Ptoriil Bereeun when Briin's father was alive, he and Aalteea had been close friends for most of her life. In fact, he had granted her a special favor by choosing her to serve as his aide on this trip. Of course, the fact of her presence also added the necessary hint of propriety that allowed Eebri to travel with Briin without raising annoying questions of respectability.

He took Eebri's elbow and led her to the viewport where Aalteea stood transfixed. "Lieutenant Faantian?" Briin said quietly. Aalteea didn't move, so Briin spoke a bit more forcefully, "Ahem... Lieutenant Faantian!"

Aalteea started, turned quickly and stammered an embarrassed, "Lord Ptoriil...Officer Laytonn...I... I should not have allowed myself to become so inattentive. My sincerest apologies. How may I assist you?"

Briin smiled reassuringly. "No need for apologies, Aalteea, except on my part. I'm afraid I've abandoned you longer than one friend should another. Your faraway look has reminded me again how new all this is to you. I fully understand how you might become distracted... and I am happy to give you this opportunity to experience it in person. May I ask your impressions?"

Aalteea glanced at Eebri before speaking, and Briin quickly offered, "You may consider Eebri a friend, and I hope you do. She has my complete trust— both personally and professionally."

So, perhaps it is more than just a rumor. Good for Briin! Aalteea gave a nod and her first non-official smile to a beaming Eebri, then spoke somewhat shyly. "It's silly, really. It's just...everything is so big. I'm afraid I didn't hear you at first because I was lost in a memory. I was trying to grasp the size of the generators and scale the whole operation.

"When I realized how hopeless it was to truly grasp it, I remembered the first time I saw the Maagnus Rift. More than two thousand klicks long, over three klicks deep, and from eight to seventeen klicks wide. I had heard of it all my life. I had seen pictures and vids of it. But, standing on the rim of just one segment of that gigantic canyon for the first time, I realized that its size was beyond my ability to encompass or even truly comprehend. It was more than I could possibly grasp.

"I now feel that same awe about the generator array. I mean, I know the size: forty transition-field generators, each a billion cubic klicks, spaced 75,000 klicks apart, arrayed in series along a curvilinear line stretching over three million klicks long. I know the numbers, and I can see it right there in front of me... but it's still beyond me."

Briin touched her arm gently and shook his head. "Don't be embarrassed, Aalteea. I had the same initial reaction, and I'm still in awe each time I see the array. And when I think of the power involved...it reminds me how small I am."

He tilted his head, nodding toward Eebri. "She's one of the few people I know who has actually managed to get a handle on it. Explain it to Aalteea, please, the way you explained it to me. Not the numbers, but the sense of the power involved in a transition."

Eebri's eyes sparkled with emerald glints as she gazed out into deep space. She spoke with a sense of awe. "These massive generators— what Briin so poetically calls a 'string of pearls'— generates the largest known artificial focus of energy. Yet the energy imbalance that exists between our universe and that sun's system— in another universe entirely— is incomprehensibly greater than our meager ability to control.. Nature's balancing forces will rip apart the weave of space-time and capture that system, whether we act or not.

"All we can do is help make the transitions somewhat more orderly. These transition-field generators are essentially enhanced versions of technology we first developed over a century ago. Of course, the original machinery was designed for a much different purpose— three generators much smaller than these allowed us to move a planet to a more hospitable orbit for mining or settlement. Now, these specially developed generators, working together in this advanced multiple-unit array, serve us well in this dire situation." Eebri sighed, "Or, at least, up to the limit of their capabilities.

"Yet, unless we make use of those capabilities, some of the planets circling that other sun would— in all probability— be severely damaged or destroyed. Even our maximum efforts will merely nudge the edges of the haze's energy horizon sufficiently to save the system's planets from destruction. Or rather," she corrected herself regretfully, "those planets that are settled or inhabited. They must remain our prime mission. If our limited efforts allow us to save more than just the settled planets, so much the better."

Aalteea asked hopefully, "Will we succeed completely with today's capture?"

Briin answered for a pensive Eebri. "We sincerely hope all of these planets survive this transition, Aalteea, but it's rare for all to come through unscathed. The target system's size and its arrangement of planets often dictates that some compromise is necessary. Too often, we must reconcile ourselves to no more than keeping the priority planets safe—those we believe are or were inhabited— if even that much is possible."

Still looking out, but now trying to imagine what lay beyond the stars, Aalteea asked, "I know there are classified recordings of their communications that have been withheld from me... ones with information beyond my particular specialty. And I suspect those recordings have the answers to my major unanswered questions: Do the inhabitants of that other universe understand what is happening? And those who were transferred— those surviving inhabitants who were not evacuated before their systems were captured— do they understand what has happened to them?"

Eebri looked to Briin, who nodded his permission.

"No, Aalteea, they certainly do not comprehend the full magnitude of their transfer. By analyzing years of recordings of the communications between the captured systems for, we have learned they've been tapping the energy of their own stars for transportation for many years, without ever realizing they were tapping energy from more than one universe. Apparently their science hasn't even determined— other than as speculative hypotheses— that multiple universes do, in fact, exist. So, as you must know from your studies of the recordings, their communications are primarily attempts to contact their home cluster, not realizing it's far beyond their reach.

"Nor do they comprehend the energy interactions between the universes, so they don't yet know that they have caused these problems themselves, by using an interstellar travel technology that—over time— creates monumental energy imbalances between their universe and ours. In fact, Aalteea, the monitored communications of later arrivals tell us they actually believe that some evil intelligence is responsible for their plight."

The three stood in silence for a few minutes, contemplating the heavens. Finally, a mischievous smile lit Eebri's face. She asked, "Briin, will you defy MAC's orders and attempt contact this time?"

"No," he replied with a frown. "At least, not without exceptional circumstances. We will, of course, examine this new system carefully. If recent history repeats itself, any settled planets will have been totally evacuated, except for machine intelligences. The most recent captures have involved only empty planets and settled planets that had been evacuated prior to the transfer. Those evacuations proves their government is aware— at least to some degree— of the possibility of a system's capture. They clearly have taken defensive steps, apparently focusing selectively on the regions of highest probability."

"I'm not sure we should assume that much," Eebri countered. "We don't know, for example, if they specifically targeted only high risk systems or simply evacuated most of their occupied planets— regardless of what system they were in. That would be a monumental undertaking, but..." An old question nagged at her again, and she spoke it aloud. "Evacuated, yes...but to where?"

"Another good question, same answer. "We don't know," Briin retorted glumly. "However, Aalteea, it's not all bleak. We have made progress and there are some important things we do have answers for. In fact, your work in translating the recordings we have gotten by monitoring the captured systems' communications has helped us to identify which planets are the priorities to protect. This impending transition involves either two or three such settled, though now probably evacuated, planets. Plus one moon of an unsettled planet. The moon settlement is— or was— a small mining outpost."

Eebri consulted her personal com-link and found the item she wanted. "This present situation is indeed a case in point, Aalteea. The mining colony's moon, at nearly ninety degrees out of phase from the settled planets, is beyond our reach. There's a strong chance it will not come through intact. We have no choice but to concentrate our alignment efforts on saving the priority planets, gambling that the moon has been completely evacuated. If we had the ability to do more— if we had more transition-field generators or a more powerful array..."

At that moment, a voice sounded, reporting that the haze's rapidly increasing pulse-rate indicated the capture would occur in less than one minute. Even while the message was being delivered, an electrostatic aura filled the cabin as the massive generators intensified their focused energies.

Briin had torn a small sheet from a note pad into tiny bits and placed them on a small table. Catching Aalteea's attention, he nodded toward the table. The bits were standing on edge, twitching rapidly in a grotesquely animated dance.

Their ship was slightly to one side and far above the nearest transition-field generator. From their position they could, in effect, "look over the shoulder" of the generator and observe the action beyond. As the seconds ticked away, the energies continued to mount. Briin felt a faint tingling; his body hair lifted, "standing at attention." He knew that their distance from the generators included a large margin for safety, but he had to keep reassuring himself as his body insistently sent warning signals.

He looked over at Aalteea and Eebri. Aalteea's wavy hair was in the close-cut style favored by young female lieutenants. Eebri had exercised some precaution by covering her hair with a scarf at the last minute so her dignity would not be compromised by the sight of her hair sticking out from her head in a blazing crimson corona.

Briin was about to needle Eebri about that possibility when the actual capture began.

# CHAPTER 58: Alliance

Jazon had shaken himself from his musings about ADIZ and the call to Sabanda. When he returned his thoughts to his surroundings, he had noticed the lengthening shadows created by the stately procession of trees along the boulevards. He had repeated the pattern of the last two evenings: eating at the restaurant atop his hotel, where a polite AIDD would serve him; returning afterwards to his plush suite at the pinnacle of the Towers; sitting on the open verandah which offered an unobstructed view of the heavens; then watching the fading glory of sunset and then the slow turning of the night sky until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Finally, mercifully, he would manage to drift into an uneasy sleep.

Jazon had been resting on a lounger on the verandah of his room, thirty floors above ground, staring expectantly at the sky. He could view the heavens and the dominating sight of the Milky Way galaxy spiraling across the sky, but he had observed no significant changes during the last two hours.

It had made him begin to wonder if this was a wasted trip, and that had caused his thoughts to drift back to ADIZ. Jazon wished he had allowed him to come along for company, but knew it was better for ADIZ to be available to Sabanda if a new crisis arose. Besides, his real hope was that— somehow, some way— the problem with the SDs would solved in the near future and the crisis would come to an end. Then ADIZ could oversee the return of everyone at Sanctuary-1 from hibernation.  But I'm still amazed that ADIZ managed to circumvent the orders I dictated. It was almost as if he actually felt concerned for my welfare!

Jazon had finally retired to the bedroom, in spite of the splendid view from the verandah,. Now he was stretched across the bed at an angle, where he could view a portion of the night sky through the open verandah doorway.  His thoughts drifted again. Do I hope this never happens, or do I wish it had happened already? If I am taken away, how long will I be gone? Will Hoga do a 'time stop' again? Has he already? Will I arrive back at Kepren soon after I left? An involuntary shiver came and went.  Or might I never make it back?

Then, in the eerie silence, he felt an electrical tingle permeate the air. From the corner of his eye, he caught a hint of motion from the bedside tabletop. On it were several of Jazon's personal articles and a small sheet of villium which, during his tense wait, he had nervously rolled loosely into a tube. Curious, Jazon turned his head toward the table. The rolled tube, lying on its side, pivoted on the table as though it were a compass needle seeking a particular alignment. Then one end of the tube lifted slightly away from the tabletop. It slowly raised higher, then started to vibrate and dance rapidly. Simultaneously, the hair on Jazon's body stood erect. He quickly rolled off the bed and started to get up. A wave of dizziness struck him. His body would not respond properly and his mind whirled.

Then Jazon realized that his room had become violet tinted.

This must be it! It's happening! Just as Hoga predicted! The system really is going to vanish! But where What if I can't return? None of the others have! Will I survive? Sam....

His mind cleared enough to wonder if the system's sun might offer visible evidence of the phenomena. Then he remembered that Plathymiir had long since set. Despite the confusing mental and physical whirl, Jazon retained enough presence of mind to realize he could observe the sun by viewscreen. He managed to growl, "Center! Real-time projection... Plathymiir... my room. Now!"

Instantly, the wall opposite his bed seemed to vanish, replaced by a view of Belshimitar's sun. At first glance, it seemed entirely normal.

His sense of dizziness— of displacement—continued to grow. Unsure of his balance or of what violent events might occur, he crawled to the verandah opening. He struggled to a sitting position and leaned against the open doorway for support. The eerie sense of physical instability continued to grow, but no detectable visual signs supported his feeling of internal quaking.  When this dizziness passes, it will probably be all over.

Through the doorway, he saw an increasingly bright glow of a lurid purple haze enveloping the sky.  It's what the recordings showed, but so much more....

At that instant, the room shook and seemed to shift around him, Jazon braced for more violent shocks, fearing that more intense jarring and quaking could collapse his room or even shatter the planet into rubble.

A momentary increase in his dizziness was followed by a sudden sense of stability. He waited, unknowingly breathless,

Is it over? Or is this only a short pause before the final destruction?  Jazon waited several seconds more, still holding his breath. Everything seems exactly as it was before. Has a transition occurred? Did something prevent it? Or has Hoga stopped it?

* * *

Hoga smiled.

#

#

#

# Epilogue:

# Historical Background Note

The TransSpace Exploration Agency's expedition to Saturn's moons in 2180 (Sol–3) resulted in a stunning discovery. At a distance of 25,000 miles— 0.26 Galactic hours prior to planned insertion into Saturn's orbit— faint unmodulated signals in the low frequency radio spectrum were detected. Direction-finding equipment soon indicated the signal originated from the surface of Iapetus, one of Saturn's moons.

Landing near the source, the team found a pyramid-shaped structure, constructed of smooth blocks hewn from the moon's native rock. Inside the structure's single entrance, the exploration party found multiple rooms. The central room had curious slotted openings in three of its walls. On the floor, beneath one of the slots, lay a scroll of paper–like material. Although two centimeters of dust covered the room's floor, the scroll was virtually dust free, indicating that it must have been a very recent addition.

Unrolling the scroll, the team's scientists found more mysteries. The scroll was found to have three separate sections, each printed not in modern English, to be sure, but still decipherable. Linguistic experts have established, from contextual syntax and usage idioms, that it is the English used on Earth (Sol–3) in the central part of North America during the late 19th to early 21st centuries. The scroll's contents imply contact between an unknown alien civilization and inhabitants of 20th Century Earth.

This scroll's existence poses some fascinating questions:

• When was it created, by whom, and for what purpose?

• Is it a factual documentation of historical events?

• If its account is not historical documentation, what was its author's purpose?

• If factual, then what lessons and implications does the account hold for us?

• Should the advanced civilizations described in the scroll revisit our galactic sector, how prepared would we be to meet them?

The investigation of these issues have proven to be intensely controversial. No final consensus or resolution has been reached on these issues, and the debate is ongoing.

The scroll's first section has been presented in the preceding pages. The material is offered virtually intact, although some linguistic terminology has been modified. English terms have been substituted where their equivalents for alien objects, processes or time units could be identified. However, in the cases of alien names for individuals or unknown locations, the original terminology has been retained.

The remainder of the scroll's contents are currently being studied, transcribed and translated for future publication. It is hoped that the publication and distribution of this first section will stimulate discussion and accelerate the resolution of the intriguing questions raised by this remarkable document.

Dr. Meltan Jorausky, FSAC

Sub–Director, Space Artifact Division

TransSpace League Exploration Agency

Sol 3 Date: May 23, 2184

Galactic Date: 5517.124

#  ~~*~~ ~~*~~

#

# AUTHORS' NOTE

Well, you've surely figured out that the Saga Of The Lost Worlds isn't over yet! (We hope you read the Epilogue: Historical Background Note at the end of the book.)

If you enjoyed this book (and we hope you did!) and would like to continue with the Saga Of The Lost worlds (and we hope you do!) we would like to make it easy for you to do so.

Get 1/3 off (33%) Book #2 in the Saga Of The Lost Worlds, Gateway Beyond The Stars. Just email us at HogaBooks@Gmail.com with the subject: GBTS Coupon and we will send you your coupon. Since the regular price for book # 2, Gateway Beyond The Stars, is just $5.99, that means you can get it and enjoy it for under $4.00!

Better yet, simply go here now and we'll help you quickly email free copies of Mission Beyond The Stars to your friends.

And remember, if you have enjoyed the beginning of the Saga Of The Lost Worlds and would like to see the series thrive, the authors would be very appreciative of you efforts to get the word out that Mission Beyond The Stars is both enjoyable and available.

How can you help? Let others know about Mission Beyond The Stars: by calling them, emailing them (no spam, please!), encouraging them to get and read it, and then pass the recommendation on to others. Also, it helps if you can review the book on the site where you got it. Personal referral — word of mouth — is the most powerful advertising and promotion force that exists, and that power is in your hands. If, with honor and integrity, you who have enjoyed Mission Beyond The Stars will do this, then additional sequels...and maybe a few surprises...can become a reality.

Again, thank you for your support!

# Grady L. Dobbs & Charles "Chuck" Neely

# Authors of _Mission Beyond The Stars_

PS: We would especially appreciate hearing from you by letter or by e-mail about what you thought of Mission Beyond The Stars, how you liked it, your praise (which we love), your thoughtful criticisms (which we respect and appreciate), and your questions.

PPS: A frequently asked question is, "Can we get a printed copy (paperback or hardback) or an audio version of the book?" This is a future possibility, depending on reader demand. You may find it easier to listen to or read a printed book at home or on an airplane than trying to read it on a laptop or e-reader. If so, let us know what alternative version you would like to have available.

E-mail:  HogaBooks@Gmail.com

# REMEMBER...

#

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# Original Copyright:

# HOGA: Gateway Beyond The Stars

# © Copyright 2000 Charles Neely and Grady L. Dobbs

#

# Revised Smashwords Edition

# © Copyright 2012 Charles Neely and Grady L. Dobbs

# ISBN 9781301493425

#

# * * * *

# 

# APPENDIX # 1

#

# REGENCY COALITION PRONUNCIATION KEY

#

# Vowels:

A = long a (as in say) aa =short a (as in sang)

E =short e (as in bed or agent) ee = long e (as in see)

I = long i (as in ice)

O = long o (as in sold) oo = (never used in the Coalition)

or short o (as in lot)

U = short u (as in sun) uu = double o (as in moon)

# Special Situations/Combinations:

\- Final letter "a"= ah (as in Sara)

\- "ah" combination = "ahh" sound (as in Taj Mahal)

\- "ae" = long a (as in say)

\- "aoh" = ow (as in cow)

\- "az" = ahz (as in Oz) or awz (as in paws)

\- "c" = mutable:

* "ess" or "suh" sound if followed by a consonant,

* hard k sound if followed by a vowel

\- "ei" combination = long "i" sound (as in ice or Einstein)

\- "eu" combination = pronounce each separately; "ee \- oo" (eg. Weulj = wee-OOL-jay)

\- Final letter "i"= long e; as in see

\- "ian" ending on a word or name = pronounced "ee - un"

\- "ie" = long e; as in seen

\- "ii" = short i (as in sit)

\- "iz" = eez; as in ease {eg. Kuuiz = koo – EEZ}

\- "iis" = iz (as in is) {eg. Iisleen = IZ – leen}

\- Any word ending in "j", following a consonant = pronounce letter: "jay"

\- Any soft consonant starting a name, followed by "j" = pronounce first consonant as a separate syllable (eg. Ljor = ELL - jor)

\- Any mutable consonant starting a name, followed by "j" = Pronounce first consonant as a separate soft syllable (eg. Cjorll = suh-JORE-el)

\- "jj" = zh sound (as in azure)

\- "q" (if not followed by u) = hard k (as in kin)

# APPENDIX # 2

#

# CHARACTERS LIST

#

#

# EARTH

OZIER, JASON (OH-zher, JAY-son)

Nickname: Jace. A farmer near the town of Hamilton in the central part of the United States. Husband of Samantha Ozier. A friend and nearby neighbor of Kyle Trandic.

OZIER, SAMANTHA (OH-zher, suh-MAN-thuh)

Nickname: Sam. Wife of Jason Ozier, living on a farm near the town of Hamilton in the central part of the United States.

SANDERS, GEORGE

A farmer near the town of Hamilton in the central part of the United States. He is a friend and nearby neighbor of Kyle Trandic, and is the former owner of Kyle's dogs.

TRANDIC, KYLE (TRAN-dik, kile)

A farmer near the town of Hamilton in the central part of the United States who sees an unsettling object. Jason and Samantha Ozier's best friend and nearby neighbor.

#

# KEPREN CLUSTER ALLIANCE

ADIZ (ADVANCED DIGITAL INTEGRATED ZYTHERTRON) Unit #32

(Each letter sounded: ay-dee-eye-zee)

A humanoid robot; over 1,000 years old; extremely intelligent, though not sentient. Overseer of Sanctuary One on Alpha Byreen III. A frequent companion and/or associate to Jazon and several Alliance leaders.

AGRIEL, VICKLOR (AY-gree-ull, VIK-lore)

Nickname: Vick. Rank: Commander in the Alliance Armada; captain of the Wasp orbiter. A native of the planet, Khylt.

BROVEAN, TALIR (BROH-vee-un, tay-LEER)

Past-President of the Kepren Cluster Alliance. Initially led the opposition to the Alliance Evacuation/Hibernation plan, but later came to support it.

BURGSTROM, SPACEY (BURG-strum, SPAY-see)

Alliance Academy professor whose theories on the relationship between matter and energy become the subject of debate by Alliance leaders. Never seen; only referred to.

DRISTANE, KIRQ (dris-STAIN, kirk)

Title: Doctor; Past Professor at Alliance Academy; Astrophysics and Propulsion Systems Specialist awakened from hibernation at Sanctuary One on Alpha Byreen III. Invited to come to Kepren to provide information on the nature of time and time travel, he resumes an experiment which may relate to the Alliance system disappearances. Originates from the planet Maljier of the Caisel system.

GISKET (GISS-ket)

Robot assistant to Dr. Kirq Dristane during experiments.

JORAUSKY, MELTAN (JORE-ow-ski, MEL-tan)

Title: Dr.; Fellow of the Society of Archeological Cosmologists and Senior Editor of the scrolls found on one of Saturn's moons, which are the source of the book.

JUBALLE, ALTEN (joo-BAHL, ALL-ten)

Rank: Lieutenant. Khyltian officer on the Wasp in charge of power systems.

KAYLIN, SINDRA (KAY-linn, SIN-druh)

Rank: Yeoman. Khyltian crew member on the Wasp; assists Commander Agriel.

KELLICE, DANTON (kel-LEESE, DAN-ton)

Alliance Academy Science professor, instructor for class in "Theory and Analysis of Super–Luminal Communication Encryption and Transfer".

KHYLTIANS (KILT-ee-unz)

Natives of the planet Khylt, Khyltians are noted for their bravery and valor. All Wasp crew members are Khyltians.

MATHLEN, YAGDEL (MATH-len, YAHG-dell)

Brilliant scientist and developer of the technique of tapping stars for tremendous energy to create huge magnetic fields to open dimensional tunnels, which led to FTL (faster than light travel) and FTC (faster than light communications). The Mathlen Science Center on Kepren was named for this innovative creator.

OZIER, GAVIN (OH-zher, GAV-in)

Son of Jazon and Sabanda Ozier, currently in hibernation on Alpha Byreen III.

OZIER, JAZON (OH-zher, JAY-zun)

Fleet Admiral of the Kepren Cluster Alliance Exploratory Armada; the cluster's highest ranking military leader and interim President of the Kepren Cluster Alliance.

OZIER, MARLINYN (OH-zher, mar-LINN-en)

Daughter of Jazon and Sabanda Ozier, currently in hibernation on Alpha Byreen III.

OZIER, SABANDA (OH-zher, suh-BAN-duh)

Vice–Admiral of the Alliance Armada; Jazon's wife and second in command of the Kepren Cluster.

SINGUR (SING-er)

Robot who assists Dr. Kirq Dristane during most portal experiments.

SWIGHT, SHALLEN (swite, SHALL-in)

Rank: Lieutenant. Khyltian officer on the Wasp; in charge of communications.

TAGMEILZER, HUGO (TAG-mile-zher, HUU-go)

Title: Dr. Successor to Yagdel Mathlen and developer of star tube travel technology.

TRANDIC, KYELL (TRAN-dik, KY-ell)

Rank: Commodore in the Alliance Armada. Aide-de-Camp to and close friend and confidant of Jazon and Sabanda Ozier.

VSDI (VISUAL SENSORY DIGITAL INTEGRATOR) UNIT #473

(Each letter sounded: vee-ess-dee-eye)

Robot; the senior overseer of the Mathlen Science Lab on Kepren.

WALTEER, KELT (wall-TEER, kelt)

Rank: Lieutenant. Khyltian officer on the Wasp; in charge of both Astrogation and Supply.

ZYTHERMAN, HEWELL (ZY-ther-man, HUU-ull)

Inventor and creator of the, "Advanced Digital Integrated Zythertron" series of robots, with advanced capabilities and behavior.

# REGENCY COALITION

# [Note: In the Coalition, family names come first, given names last]

BRAANG KTOR (brang kuh-TORE)

Conclave Representative-at-Large and a senior member of the Coalition Conclave, supporter of Lord Ptoriil Briin, uncle of Special Aide Braang Pezzer, and older brother of Braang Pzorren.

BRAANG PEZZER (brang PEZ-zer)

Title: SA, or Special Aid to the Executive Officer. Headstrong and abrasive son of Braang Pzorren, nephew to Braang Ktor, and a junior Representative to the Conclave.

BRAANG PZORREN (brang puh-ZORE-in)

The most disreputable member of House Braang; a scheming Merchant/Trader dealing primarily in illicit goods, the younger brother of Braang Ktor, and the father of Braang Pezzer.

CHUNEEL SEVAAN (chuh-NEEL seh-VAN)

Lord Regent of the House Chuneel and a neutral member of MAC.

CJORLL KUUIZ (suh-JORE-el koo-EEZ)

Lord Regent of the House Cjorll and an opposition member of MAC, constantly at odds with Lord Ptoriil. Usually accompanied by Lord Regent Vstoch Vlagen.

DHAALMLA (DAHLM-lah)

Mythical goddess from very early pre–Coalition history and immortalized by a bronze statue in the All Planets Museum.

FAANTIAN AALTEEA (FAN-tee-un al-TEE-ah)

Rank: Lieutenant. Lord Regent Faantian Thlomaz's granddaughter, an expert in Alliance languages and culture, Lord Ptoriil's life-long friend and sometimes administrative aide.

FAANTIAN THLOMAZ (FAN-tee-un thlow-MAHZ)

Lord Regent of the House Faantian, a supporting member Lord Ptoriil on MAC, and grandfather of Faantian Aalteea.

GAZAANEEL TELDORN (gahz-an-EEL TEL-dorn)

Lord Regent of the House Gazaaneel and an opposition member of MAC.

JANUZ, CAPTAIN (JAY - nuzz)

Rank: Captain. Commander of the ship on which Lord Ptoriil Briin makes a journey to

the planet, Iisleen, in the Iisleen system.

LAYTONN EEBRI (LAY-ton EE-bree)

Nickname: Brie. Rank: FSO or First Science Officer, Chief of Coalition Science Division, and Executive Staff Officer. Lord Regent Ptoriil Briin's extremely competent and savvy science and political adviser—and frequent companion.

LUUSEEMA ZERRA (loo-SEEM-ah ZER-rah)

Lord Regent of the House Luuseema and a neutral member of M–A–C.

MALAAR (MAY-lar)

Title: Special Aide. The senior administrative aide to Lord Ptoriil Briin. He is a long time aide and permanently assigned to Lord Ptoriil.

PTORIIL BEREEUN (puh-TORE-ill BEAR-ee-un)

Lord Ptoriil Briin's deceased father; a prior Lord Regent and MAC member.

PTORIIL BRIIN (puh-TORE-ill brin)

Nickname: Briinie. Titles: His Excellency, Lord Regent of the House Ptoriil, Eminent Regent Supreme, Commander-in Chief of the Regency Coalition Cluster Fleet, Chief Executive of the Regency Coalition and Chairman of The Mutual Advisory Committee, Lord Ptoriil Briin.

PTORIIL GOZER (puh-TORE-ill GO-zher)

Highly esteemed ancestor to Lord Ptoriil Briin.

QIIRRON (KIR-on)

A trusted assistant on Lord Ptoriil's staff.

VSTOCH VLAGEN (vuh-STAHCH VLAY-gun)

Lord Regent of the House Vstoch and an opposition member of MAC, constantly at odds with Lord Ptoriil. Usually accompanies Lord Regent Cjorll Kuuiz.

#

# CRONUL

HOGA (HOE-gah)

An enigmatic entity of near-supernatural powers and perceptions who resides in a mysterious rock-walled compound on Cronul, well outside the town of Farthing.

MEMNON (MEM-non)

An extremely advanced, sentient robot associate of HOGA.

'OLD' HALLNEY (HAUL-nee)

A ticket clerk at the train station on Cronul.

# 

# APPENDIX # 3

#

# TERMS, OBJECTS AND PLACES

#

# Basic Time Comparisons

1 Kepren Day = appx. 22.5 Earth Hours 11 Kepren Days = appx. 10 Earth days

1 Kepren Year = appx. 1.1 Earth Years 9 Earth Years = appx. 10 Kepren Years

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 Coalition Day = appx. 28 Earth Hours 6 Coalition Days = appx. 7 Earth days

1 Coalition Year = appx. 1.05 Earth Years 20 Coalition Years = appx. 21 Earth Years

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 Coalition Day = appx. 31 Kepren Hours 4 Coalition Days = appx. 5 Kepren days

1 Coalition Year = appx. 0.9 Kepren Years 24 Coalition Years= appx. 21 Kepren Years

# (For full time measurements and conversion between

# Earth, the Kepren Alliance, and the Regency Coalition

# see the Basic Time Units conversion chart at the end of this glossary)

# EARTH

AU

Abbreviation for "Astronomical Unit"; the distance from the Earth's center to the Sun's center.

HAMILTON

A small town in the central part of the United States; home of Jason and Samantha Ozier and Kyle Trandic. The location of a town meeting during which strange sightings are discussed.

IAPETUS (eye-AP-uh-tuss)

A moon of Saturn; the scrolls on which the book is based were discovered there.

# KEPREN CLUSTER ALLIANCE

AIDD (AID)

An acronym for Artificial Intelligence Data Devices, the general term for many varieties of advanced robotic machine intelligences used widely throughout the Alliance.

AAIRON (AY-ron)

Capital city of the planet Belshimitar.

ACADEMY / FLEET ACADEMY

Common terms for the Kepren Cluster Alliance Exploratory Armada Academy, the educational facility and training ground for future Alliance officers who will command the crews of space exploration ships. Pride in the fleet still runs high and scholarly excellence is always the aim. However, with the concept of warfare only a distant memory, military strategies for armed conflict have become minimal parts of the curriculum, secondary to the primary training in techniques of exploration.

ALLIANCE

The general reference to the civilization and governmental organization formally known as "The Kepren Cluster Alliance," or to the Kepren Cluster in which it is located.

AICYCLEIS SYSTEM (ay-SIKE-lee-is)

A solar system which disappeared thirteen months earlier than Chadalmencondra.

ALPHA BYREEN III (AL-fah BY-reen)

The planetary location of Sanctuary–One, the first of many evacuation/hibernation facilities of the Alliance. It is also the principal duty station of ADIZ.

BELSHIMITAR (bell-SHIM-ih-tar)

Fourth and most densely occupied planet in the Plathymiir system.

BUKALOZ DEFENSE STATION (BOO-kah-lowz)

A Belshimitar military installation.

CHAD / CHADALMENCONDRA (chad / chad-al-men-KON-drah)

The closest planet to Kepren in the Syzygy system. Unlike all other SDs, Chad disappeared alone, without additional system involvement.

CLUSTER

An astronomical term used to described a roughly spherical concentration of related stars of generally similar age and type. (also see "Kepren Cluster")

CLUSTER ALLIANCE COUNCIL

The primary legislative body of the Kepren Cluster Alliance. Consisting of representatives of each of the settled systems of the Kepren Cluster, it is composed of three parts: the Solar Assembly, with each inhabited solar system having two members; the Planetary Advisors, with each settled planet having two members; and the Citizens' Caucus, based on individual solar systems' population, with one member per each 250 Million citizens. If each of the three houses approves a measure, but in different forms, the final form of any approved legislation is decided by the Cabinet of Elders, made up of each system's senior member in the Solar Assembly.

COLOSSUS

The descriptive title given to an unknown ship seen in Alliance space.

CLIO. - COMMUNICATION LIAISON INTELLIGENCE OPERATOR

(Note: "CLIO" pronounced like "Cleo.")

A Mathlen Science Center fully integrated machine intelligence facility capable of life-like interaction and responses in furnishing communications and a wide range of information concerning the infra–structure of the Kepren Cluster Alliance.

DIMENSIONAL TUNNEL

See "InterSpace Tunnel"

DOPPEL / DOPPELGANGER (DOPP-pel / DOPP-pel-gang-er)

Generally, a wraithlike image or double of a person; also refers to a projected holographic image of a person, manipulated from a distance by a controlling intelligence.

THE EDUCATOR

The commonly used term for the HoloPsychic Integrator, a bio-electronic learning accelerator capable of by imparting large amounts of knowledge to a person in very short time periods by electronically stimulating, focusing and integrating all learning and recall activities of the brain.

EROLA SYSTEM (ee-ROH-la)

A collection of beautiful worlds, sometimes referred to as "The Garden Planets".

FTL (Each letter sounded: eff-tee-ell)

Acronym for any system of "Faster Than Light-speed Travel"; this may mean actually exceeding the speed of light or effectively achieving the same result by taking dimensional "short-cuts" which reduce the normally required travel distance through space. (Also see "InterSpace" and "InterSpace Tunnel")

SLC (Each letter sounded: ess-ell-see)

Acronym for Super-Luminal Communications, a system of faster than lightspeed communications. (Also see Tachyonic Communications)

GANLON (GAN-lon)

Principal and capitol city on the planet Kepren. The city is above the underground site of the Mathlen Science Center.

Berania (bur-AN-ee-uh)

Largest ocean of Belshimitar.

HOLOPSYCHIC INTEGRATOR

See "Educator."

INTERSPACE

An inter–dimensional sub-space region not defined by the conventional laws of the known universe. Passage through this region allows travelers to take "short-cuts" through space. (Also see "FTL" and "InterSpace Tunnel")

INTERSPACE TUNNEL

Artificially constructed openings into and through InterSpace, which allows interstellar distances to be traversed faster than light, but without perceptible time-dilation effects. Colossal magnetic fields are created by a technology which taps the vast energy of local stars, opening wormhole-like passages through InterSpace. By traveling through these tunnels at approximately one-third lightspeed, ships take "short-cuts" and traverse interstellar distances in small fractions of the time light would take to travel through normal space to the same destination.

Also known as "Dimensional Tunnels", "Star Tunnels", and "Star Tubes," their entry points are located roughly fifteen light-minutes from the planet of departure, radiating outward into space in the direction of the destination. Transport through such constructs is rated by phase numbers; the larger the phase number, the more the travel time is reduced and the greater the amount of energy required for the tunnel's creation. [See also "InterSpace", "FTL", "Mathlen, Yagdel" and "Tagmeilzer, Hugo"]

KEPREN (KEP-ren)

Once a sparsely populated planet in the Syzygy solar system near the center of the Kepren Cluster, Kepren was chosen as the newly centralized political heart of the Alliance government. As the site of the Mathlen Science Center, it is also the focus of much of the scientific and technological advancement of the Alliance. Combined with its state–of– the–art transportation facilities, Star Terminal One, Kepren has become the Alliance's hub for politics, science, and cluster-wide travel.

KEPREN CLUSTER

A region of over 1000 stars focused in a loose globular pattern roughly eighty–one light years in diameter; the planet Kepren in the Syzygy system is near its center.

KEPREN CLUSTER ALLIANCE

The united government of dozens of settled star systems with the Kepren Cluster; its chief executive is the President and its legislative body is called the Cluster Alliance Council.

KEPREN CLUSTER ALLIANCE EXPLORATORY ARMADA

The official title for the government supported and operated quasi-military system operating a significant fleet of space-going vessels. The Armada had, in millennia past, served as a true military war force. The word, "Exploratory," was added after centuries had passed without any active military engagements.

KEPREN TIME/CALENDAR

Based upon the time units native to the planet Kepren, the official standard of time measurement of the Kepren Cluster Alliance. Calendar year starts on Spring Equinox

468 calendar days per year (468.47 solar days per year)

25 hours per day, 9 days per week, 4 weeks per month

36 days per month; 13 months

Adjustment for Calendar Year to match Orbital Year:

1 leap day each 2 years

Skip leap day each 66 years;

Do not skip leap each 6600 years.

Yields accuracy within 1.5 seconds per million years.

# (For full time measurements and conversion between

# the Kepren Alliance, the Regency Coalition, and Earth

# see the Basic Time Units conversion chart at the end of this glossary)

KINY–STOMOS LIBRARY (KY-nee STO-mose)

An electronic device with which realistic holographic images, complete with audio, could be created.

CAISEL SYSTEM (KY-zel)

Alliance Cluster star system containing Maljier, the home planet of Kirq Dristane. It is one of the solar systems lost as an SD.

MALJIER (MAL-jee-air)

Kirq Dristane's birth planet. It is a part of the Caisel System, which became an SD shortly before Chad's disappearance.

MATHLEN SCIENCE CENTER

The Alliance's premier scientific facility, located underground near Ganlon on the planet, Kepren. Its primary parts are: Mathlen Science Institute, an educational institution; Mathlen Science Lab, a research facility; and Mathlen Command Center, the primary monitoring and control center for the entire Kepren Cluster during hibernation.

THE NINE CREATIONS

Originally a religious term from ancient myths and texts describing the nature of the beginning of all things, the concept became more widely accepted when cosmologists and astrophysicists developed, through mathematical models, essentially the same scientific theory. Both the religious concept of creation and the scientific theory suggest that, in a blinding original outburst, nine separate but related dimensions or universes were simultaneously created, each with its own process of development and evolution. The term is sometimes used as an exclamation in moments of extreme tension or sudden realization. (i.e., "By the Nine Creations!")

KHYLT (kilt)

The desolate and inhospitable home planet of the Khyltians who volunteered for the skeleton crew to operate the Wasp during hibernation.

PLATHYMIIR (PLATH-eh-meer)

One of the Kepren Cluster's settled solar systems; its primary settled planet is Belshimitar.

PLAZA OF THE WORLDS

A popular tourist destination in Belshimitar's capitol city of Aairon, where Jazon and Sabanda have vacationed. It is distinctive and famous for its featured exhibits of merit from all of the major systems in the Alliance Cluster.

SANCTUARY–ONE

Located on the remote planet Alpha Byreen III, Sanctuary–One was the first hibernation facility constructed and populated with evacuated Kepren Cluster Alliance citizens. The robot, ADIZ, is the principal caretaker and overseer of the facility.

STAR TUBE / STAR TUNNEL

See "InterSpace Tunnel"

STAR TERMINAL - 1

The name given to the transportation center at the planet, Kepren. The transport facility was so named in honor of both for its political position and for its state-of-the-art star tunnel travel capabilities.

SYSTEM DISAPPEARANCES

The sudden and unexplained vanishing of a primary star along with all or most of the orbiting bodies in that solar system.

SYZYGY (SIZZ-uh-gee)

The name of both the solar system of which Kepren is a part and the sun about which Kepren orbits. Syzygy also refers to a centralized, straight line astronomical formation.

TACHYONIC COMMUNICATIONS (tack-ee-ON-ic)

A method of FTC (Faster Than Light-speed Communications) made possible by the use of tachyon streams as a signal carrier. By their nature, tachyons must always move faster than the speed of light and may move at speeds significantly greater than light-speed.

TEEKA (TEE-kah)

An Alliance animal, roughly equivalent to an Earth "spider."

WASP

A five-mile diameter artificial satellite which created a crisis when the planet it was orbiting [Chadalmencondra] vanished without a trace. Part time home of Commander Vicklor Agriel and crew.

# REGNCY COALITION

ALL PLANETS MUSEUM BUILDING

A combination museum and office building which also contains the prestigious J'Orgowiilf Regency Grill at its very top.

AANZELOTA (an-ze-LOT-ah)

One of Caaljeron's moons. A particularly dramatic effect is produced when seen under the right astronomic and atmospheric conditions and in conjunction with another of Caaljeron's moons, Zeloti.

AAXLOTL (ax-LOT-ul)

An non-domesticatable and rather burly wild animal that is difficult to locate and somewhat dangerous to hunt; also refers to selected portions from the carcass of that animal that are used as food and deemed a special delicacy by many citizens of the Coalition. Rarely found in restaurants of the realm, but always at a premium price.

BAJJELMEER (BAY-zhel-meer)

The system that the captured planet Chad will pass close to as it moves through Coalition space.

CAALJERON (CAL-jer-on)

The planet on which the Regency Coalition's capitol city, Xuudeloee, is located.

COALITION

The general reference to the civilization and governmental organization formally known as "The Regency Coalition," or to the Coalition Cluster in which it is located. (Also see "Coalition Cluster" and "Regency Coalition")

COALITION CLUSTER / REGENCY COALITION CLUSTER

A concentrated region of almost 2000 stars in a general spherical pattern, having over 200 inhabited systems; the city of Xuudeloee on the planet Caaljeron is the seat of government for the confederacy of planets in the cluster. (See also "Regency Coalition")

THE CONCLAVE (KON-klave)

The Regency Coalition's legislative body, it is a less powerful and less autonomous arm of the government than the Mutual Advisory Committee.

EIDOLON (EYE-duh-lon)

A mysterious, moon–sized construct 1200 kilometers (appx. 750 miles) in diameter, accidentally discovered by a Coalition Fleet cadet training mission.

FTC2

(Each element pronounced: eff-tee-see-skwared)

A term for "Faster Than Light-Speed Communications", where "Light-Speed" is designated by "C". The "squared" indication (seen as the small superscript "2") both simplifies the "FTCC" designation and indicates that the rate of communication transmission is the speed of light multiplied by itself. At such speeds, the time required for communications to traverse the distance between stars is reduced to a matter of minutes or hours.

HOUSES

The family/political units which rule their own sectors of the Coalition Cluster. The Lords Regent (the heads of each of the thirteen aristocratic Houses) form the Mutual Advisory Committee, the primary ruling body of the Regency Coalition. One of the Lords Regent is selected as the Chairman of MAC and automatically becomes the Chief-of-State of the Regency Coalition. The thirteen Houses are: House Ahfemeen, House Braang, House Chuneel, House Cjorll, House Emzeersepek, House Faantian, House Gazaaneel, House Luuseema, House Ptoriil, House Rahzhpuul, House Tzenjjuu, House Vstoch, and House Xuudel. (See also "Regency Coalition" and "Mutual Advisory Committee".)

IISLEEN (IZ-leen)

Located in fringe area of the Regency Coalition Cluster near the region where most system captures have occurred, Iisleen—both the planet and the system—is the ancestral home of the House Ptoriil. One of the few inhabitable Coalition planets that is not overpopulated, Iisleen was occasionally considered a vacation spot.

KIIDEENI PRIME (kid-DEEN-ee)

The larger of two stars of a Coalition binary system, the nearest in Coalition space to

Chadalmencondra's point of transition.

MAAGNUS RIFT (MAG-nus)

An enormous natural geological chasm, well known throughout the Coalition.

MUTUAL ADVISORY COMMITTEE / MAC

(Note: MAC normally pronounced "Mack".)

The primary ruling body of the Coalition. It is a contentious confederacy comprised of the Lords Regent of each of the thirteen aristocratic Houses which rule their own sectors of the Coalition Cluster. The Chairman of MAC (designated as Lord Regent Supreme) is automatically the Chief-of-State of the Regency Coalition. (See also "Houses" and "Regency Coalition".)

RAAJJSH SECTOR (rahzsh)

The remote region of the Coalition in which Eidolon is found.

REGENCY COALITION

A formal, but adversarial, confederation of the aristocratic Houses which rule each of the thirteen inhabited geo-political sectors of the Regency Coalition Cluster; the formal oligarchy of Lords which comprises the government of the inhabited cluster. Occasionally the term also is used as an alternative reference to the Coalition Cluster. (See also "MAC / Mutual Advisory Committee")

REGENCY COALITION CLUSTER FLEET

A collection of space going vessels commissioned by the Coalition government and staffed by officers sworn to allegiance in a manner following ancient military protocol. Although war has become only a distant memory, the concept of self protection dies hard and the fleet retains some of the tools to wage war.

REGENCY COALITION TIME/CALENDAR

333 calendar days per year (333.333+ solar days per year)

30 hours per day, 8 days per week;

3.75 weeks per month (for 41 of the 42 weeks per year)

11 months total; first 10 months with 30 days, Sacred month has 33 days

11th month=4.0 weeks with three 8 day weeks, final week only 5 days (6 in leap year)

1 leap day each 3 years; 1 extra Sacred Minute each 3,000 years

# (For full time measurements and conversion between

# the Regency Coalition, the Kepren Alliance, Earth, and

# see the Basic Time Units conversion chart at the end of this glossary)

SACRED MONTH / COALITION TIME

A month of both special religious significance and calendar adjustment; unlike the other ten months in the official Coalition calendar (which is based on time measurement and year length on Caaljeron), the Sacred Month has 33 days instead of 30, and four weeks instead of 3.75, with the additional week (the Sacred Week) having only 5 days instead of the usual 8 days.

TOWERS–CREST

A prestigious skyscraper, meeting place and restaurant favored by the movers and shakers of Coalition society. The exclusive dining area is located high atop the building, with a spectacular view of all of Xuudeloee.

TUNNEL RATS PUB

A thoroughly disreputable Xuudeloian eatery and watering hole whose only saving graces are its privacy and its exceptional aaxlotl steaks.

VERBAL DUEL

A traditional Coalition contest of vocal combat which has replaced almost all physical conflict or battles. Particular emphasis is placed on imagery and alliterative style. A facile and extensive command of the language is a definitely prerequisite for those who have any hope of being competitive.

XUUDELOEE (ZOO-deh-LOW-ee)

The capitol city of both the planet Caaljeron and the Regency Coalition.

ZELEETA (zeh-LEET-ah)

Home planet of Ptoriil Briin, approximately twenty light years from the House Ptoriil's ancestral home on Iisleen.

ZELAANZ / ZELAANZIAN (zeh-LOHNZ / zeh-LOHNZ-ee-an)

A reference to the unusual pastel aqua color produced on rare occasions by two moons of Caaljeron. Also the term for the occasions on which the phenomena is observed, as well as for the precious stone of the same color. (See also "Aanzelota" and "Zeloti".)

ZELOTI (zeh-LOT-ee)

One of Caaljeron's moons. A particularly dramatic effect is produced when seen under the right astronomic and atmospheric conditions and in conjunction with another of Caaljeron's moons, Aanzelota.

# CRONUL

# (KROH-nul)

CONNIX (KON-ix)

The name of an instantaneous transport system used by HOGA and his associates.

FARTHING (FAR-theeng)

The small, somewhat antiquated town at the entry port to Cronul.

MATCHED PARTICLE PAIR

Paired sub–atomic particles for which are entangled is such a way that either particle of the pair instantaneously reflects any effects or changes in its partner, regardless of how widely they are separated. As a result, the use of matched particle pairs in communication allows instant communication, whether the particles are miles apart or millions of light years apart. On Earth, the initial theoretical work in this area was jointly conducted by Albert Einstein and Boris Podolsky. Thus, matched particle pairs are sometimes referred to as Einstein/Podolsky pairs.

RISHON (REE-shon)

The most elemental component of the physical universe. Although rishons may be

infinitesimal energy units with no particle characteristics, various combinations of rishons are the fundamental building blocks which create all sub-atomic particles, all atoms, and all matter.

RISHONIC PROCESSOR (ree-SHON-ic)

The core unit of a robotic brain which allows artificial intelligence to achieve sentience. Constructed from rishons in a manner that creates a harmonic fusion of inert and living biological components, its operation is essentially the same as that of the brain of a living person.

RISHONIC CO-PROCESSOR

A rishonic processor designed to work in tandem with a traditional electronic or positronic processor, providing capabilities beyond the individual capabilities of either individual processor.

# APPENDIX # 4

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# APPENDIX # 5

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# All included artwork, graphic images and charts

# © Copyright 2000 Charles Neely and Grady L. Dobbs

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