 
The Last Load

By Bartholomew Thockmorton

Copyright 2011 Bartholomew Thockmorton

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment; it may not be re-sold or given away to friends, family or acquaintances. And especially not to those people standing on the side of the street, lane, roadway or thoroughfare, or sometimes in the highway's median, with those flimsy, greasy, poorly written cardboard signs saying "Will recite the Gettysburg Address for food...or money...or companionship." If you want to give them money (or food) please feel free to do so...I wouldn't recommend the companionship part, as there is no telling where they've been, or who they've been with. If you feel compelled, or in dire need thereof, to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each and every recipient. In fact, buy _ten_ copies for each of them...that way, if they lose one, they'll still have nine more as backup! You just can't be too careful! Just giving free advice, you see...not like I'm in this for the money or anything. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy...or twenty...whatever. Thank you for respecting the hard work of Bartholomew Thockmorton.

And rotate your tires, dad-nabbit!

This work is dedicated to my mama, who gave me my life-long love for comic books.

I miss you.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE: DOCTOR LOUISTON, I PRESUME

CHAPTER TWO: ESCAPE FROM NEW YAK

CHAPTER THREE: MCNALLY ALMOST HONKS IT

CHAPTER FOUR: MCNALLY EXPLAINS ALL AND GETS ARRESTED

CHAPTER FIVE: DOCTOR LOUISTON OPERATES

CHAPTER SIX: SECTOR PATROL HAS A BAD DAY

CHAPTER SEVEN: OLD MCNALLY'S FARM

CHAPTER EIGHT: BAGGING THE LEVIATHAN

CHAPTER NINE: TIDY ENDINGS

THOCKMORTON TERRITORY

CHAPTER ONE: DOCTOR LOUISTON, I PRESUME

McNally prepared for violence as he approached the four Cranston thugs surrounding Louiston's table. McNally hated to have witnesses—the bar was crowded—but he needed Louiston's assistance. Louiston had the stoic look of a man facing eminent danger. His eyes met McNally's, who nodded with a half-smile.

McNally silently named them Big Ugly, Fingers, Rover and Potato-nose. Big Ugly was both, Fingers wanted to draw the weapon that bulged beneath his left arm, Rover because of his jowls and Potato-Nose was obvious.

"Excuse me," he said stepping between Big Ugly and Fingers. "You're Louiston, right?" This was addressed to the seated man.

"Listen stupid, we're having a little talk with our friend—and you're not invited," said Big Ugly, by far the meanest looking of the four individuals.

"So _you're_ in charge here," said McNally, facing the large man. "Just wanted to know." Before he could reply, McNally struck a blow that sent him skidding across the bar's polished floor. When Big Ugly struggled to his knees and spit out three teeth, McNally smiled. He was in a foul mood and felt like inflicting some punishment.

Fingers had at last given in to his desire and begun to draw his blaster. Though the bar's entrance screened for weapons, McNally knew Cranston men had free access into any secure area. He moved in close and took our Fingers with a swift elbow to the temple. Rover went down after being kneed in the groin. McNally eliminated Potato-Nose with a finger thrust into an eye socket. Screaming, the man clutched at his blood splattered face and fell backwards over the table. Louiston stood, eager to avoid the flowing gore.

"Are you ready to leave?" asked McNally.

"Fine by me! Let's get the blazes out of here!" Louiston glanced at the other patrons, many heading for exits. McNally watched them go also, then turned to Louiston. "Stay close and keep your eyes open...we're going to have to move fast!"

Big Ugly had by now regained his feet and was violently shaking his head. McNally stepped toward him, leapt into the air and kicked with his booted foot. When Big Ugly hit the floor this time, he didn't move. McNally stepped to one side and stomped downward.

Rover, clutching his wounded groin, convulsed in renewed pain as the side of his face crushed inward. Looking right and left, McNally was satisfied the men in the Cranston uniforms no longer posed a threat.

Louiston stepped over the four that had been dispatched with such apparent ease, then hurried to catch McNally, who was halfway to the door.

He stopped in front of the bar and pinned the keep with a steely gaze. "If you sound an alarm, I'll come back and kick your carcass to Pluto. Got it?"

The man nodded slightly, then glanced towards the men on the floor. "Whatever you say mister."

In the corridor, McNally slowed and turned toward the man he had just rescued. "You _are_ Doctor Louiston, the M.D., right?"

"Yeah," the man answered. "What does a fast mover like you want with a rock-doctor like me? Who are you anyway?"

"You're evidence," said McNally, tapping Louiston on the chest with a stiff finger. "Right now you're the most important person in my universe, and the name is McNally, Randal McNally."

"You a cop?"

"I've worked with them. More important, I'm your meal ticket off this flyspeck of a trucker's asteroid and the guy who most probably just saved your grits from the fire!'

As McNally continued down the corridor, Louiston looked behind him. Already curious patrons had come outside wondering what all the trouble was about. Not wanting to answer the questions that security was sure to have, Louiston turned and sprinted after McNally.

For several minutes the two men ran through the metal passages of the asteroid's interior. By their turns and general direction, Louiston guessed they were headed towards the asteroid's loading docks.

At the intersection of the two corridors, McNally stopped. Moments later, Louiston joined him.

"From here on we'll encounter more pedestrians," said McNally. "You can stop the heavy breathing, we're walking from here. Just remember we're two guys heading for their rig."

"That sounds good," panted Louiston as he leaned against the metal bulkhead. "But they'll have sounded the alarm by now! Security is going to be hot for our heads!"

"Unlikely," replied McNally. "I've got this whole chunk of rock jammed against internal alarms. I just warned the barkeep hoping he would be that much slower sending for help. Here, you may need this." McNally reached inside his jacket and handed a pistol to Louiston.

Louiston examined the formidable TS-11 military-grade riot pistol. "Where in the blue-blazes did you get this thing?" cried Louiston. "The bar was screened...not to mention that military hardware is outlawed for civilian use in the Oort cloud...unless you happen to be in the Inner-system Navy."

"I'm not actually _in_ the Navy, and I didn't bring it into the bar. If you had been watching closely, you would have noticed me snatching that weapon from Fingers' jacket."

Louiston shoved the gun in his belt. "Fingers?"

"Never mind! We don't have that much time. We're got to get off this station, and it's important that you leave with me...in one piece!"

Suddenly a squad of security guards sprinted around the corner and all but collided with the two men. Louiston drew and fired several rounds in rapid succession. Three of the guards lurched backwards with gaping holes in their body armor.

" _Stop_!" screamed McNally. He dove into the remaining four. Louiston held his fire and tried to follow what happened next. McNally moved amongst the security team, raining blows. In moments, the men were down and unmoving.

McNally moved toward Louiston and leveled a finger at his face. "We have to come to an understanding right now! We don't kill women! We don't kill children! We don't kill innocents! Unless your target is a Cranston agent, or someone else I've specified, you _do not_ use that weapon! I don't mind blood, but it's got to be the right people or you're no better than the guy I'm after."

Louiston returned the blaster to his belt. "Look McNally, you can't give me a weapon, then tell me not to use it! As far I'm concerned everyone on this rock is my enemy!"

McNally moved even closer to Louiston and glared. "You're wrong," said McNally. "From now on you don't draw unless I give you permission! Before I'm done, the body count in this sector of the cloud may skyrocket. But it's got to be done right! And it's got to be for the proper reasons. Take it or leave it!" McNally turned and walked away.

Louiston inhaled deeply. "Look I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," snapped McNally. "I know what you've been through and I know what your problems are! There's a lot of bad business going down in this sector. Whatever happens, we're not here to contribute to it. Now let's get down to the loading bays. We're running out of time!"

Shortly, they stood outside an interior airlock to one of the numerous loading bays. Louiston waited as McNally conferred with the duty attendant.

"You're going to be okay, George?"

"Ah, Randal...what can I tell you? I don't think anyone is wise to me...yet."

"Good, let's just try to keep it that way," said McNally looking around and smiling. "I'll see that an extra thousand credits are zipped to your account back on Titan. Will that do?"

George smiled and clasped McNally on the shoulder. "Randal my friend, when has The Company ever let me down?"

"I'll try to be as gentle as I can. But I've got to make it look convincing!" As the man turned, facing the other way, McNally struck him on the back of the neck with his rigid, open palm. George fell like a sack of grain, slamming heavily onto the deck.

McNally turned to Louiston. "We've got a lot to do."

Louiston followed McNally, stepping over the attendant lying on the floor at the entrance to the airlock.

CHAPTER TWO: ESCAPE FROM NEW YAK

Back in the bar, Security Chief Rogers watched as his team placed the bodies on stretchers. Two dead men—one with a crushed skull, the other from brain damage caused by something shoved through his eye socket. The others were alive, but out cold. Rogers looked at the floor and sighed; he'd question them in the infirmary when they regained consciousness. He motioned for the bartender to join him.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" asked Rogers.

"Not much to tell! Stranger came in and tore them apart like a professional."

"A professional, huh? Four men in Cranston uniforms and a trained killer...that's just great! Ever see him before?"

"Nope, he was a new one to me! Like I said, he was a stranger! Just walked in here, started the fight and left with that Louiston fellow."

" _Doctor_ Louiston?" asked Rogers in surprise. "What would a trained killer want with a space jockey like him?"

"Hey, Chief," called a member of the security team. "Report from corridor 17A...Squad Four reports seven of our men down—three dead."

Wonderful, thought Rogers. This was trouble...big trouble. Dead Cranston employees were bad enough. Dead security guards would have the Sector Police swarming all over the New Yak asteroid.

"All right men," shouted Rogers. "Let's initiate a full-scale station search. Close down all transports and no flights in until we find these guys...and launch a couple of security ships to scan topside!"

Rogers turned and headed for the doorway. He had better put in a call to the Cranston main offices over on the Madeira Colony. They would want to know that the Sector Police would undoubtedly be paying New Yak a visit. Rogers prayed that Louiston and the other man would be found before they got off the asteroid. If they did get away...Rogers was not in the mood to think about that complication.

***

Fully suited, McNally and Louiston exited the airlock and headed down the row of docked crafts. Louiston stopped in surprise as they approached a small two-man shuttle.

"This is your ship? Lord! I've seen closets bigger than this thing! No wonder we're wearing pressure suits!"

McNally opened a small panel and activated controls, sliding the canopy backwards. "It's a shuttle craft, dim wit," McNally replied sarcastically. "My ship's too big to fit in this little bay." He scrambled upwards and took the lead seat in the cockpit. "But if you're particular, you can arrange for other transport! Maybe you want to stay here and convince security the holes in those three corpses back in the corridor didn't come from the gun you've got inside that suit."

Louiston joined McNally in the cockpit. "Point well taken! I hope you will forgive me if I have insulted this fine specimen of transportation. Shall we leave?"

McNally was already running his hands over the control panel. The small craft's engines hummed into life as the canopy slid forward over their heads. "Say goodbye to Mr. Yak's asteroid, 'cause we're gone!"

The craft rose from the deck as McNally signaled the loading bay's shielded doors to open.

Nothing happened.

"Why am I not surprised," muttered McNally, turning switches that activated the shuttle's radio. "Let's see if the boys inside have anything to say to us..."

"— _ordered to abandon your craft and re-enter the station. Repeat, this is New Yak Security to unidentified craft! Shut down your engines! You are ord_ —" McNally switched off the radio.

"What do we do now McNally?"

"What we were going to do all along...we're going to leave these amateurs far behind."

Suddenly, a shimmering field of pulsating force formed about the shuttle. Louiston could still see the details of the loading dock beyond the craft, but it was evident from the flowing patterns of energy that the field was of phenomenal strength.

The drone of the conversion core climbed in pitch as McNally powered up the engines. A new and unmistakable whine joined the harmonics gently vibrating the craft. "Plasma generators?" Louiston's voice was almost lost amidst the power hum that surrounded them.

"You got it! You might want to hang on. When the fireworks start, I'm going to pull 15 gees. The inertials will only hold at 70 percent with this much power diverted to the shields, so it's going to be a bumpy ride!"

Before Louiston could protest, multiple blasts of searing plasma exploded outward from the shuttle's side-mounted weapons pods. Both men were shoved backwards as the small craft launched itself forward and beyond the confines of the asteroid. Louiston did not see the bay's doors vaporize.

In moments, the dwindling asteroid was far astern. McNally banked hard to starboard, placing their flight path almost ninety-degrees to their original course. The asteroid was still visible, surrounded by a sea of stars.

"Let's see if we have any company," commented McNally as he inspected the control panel's small radar screen.

"I thought the idea was to get out of here!"

"Patience Doctor! We don't want any unwelcome visitors following us home! I'm jamming their radar, but I'm sure station security would have no trouble following our radiation trail."

As if on cue, twin signals blipped into life on the radar screen.

McNally again banked starboard, heading back towards the asteroid. "Here they come! Now we just show them the error of their ways!"

The shuttle accelerated and the asteroid grew with alarming speed. They could now see the pursuing spacecrafts, each many times larger than McNally's small shuttle. The security crafts rode fiery trails generated by their fusion drives.

McNally adjusted course to intercept the craft on the left. Their ship shuddered slightly as several bolts of plasma fire grazed off the shuttle's shield. Louiston licked perspiration from his lips; he had never engaged in ship-to-ship combat. He silently prayed that McNally knew what he was doing.

For the second time, the ship's weapons generators screamed in fury as flashing patterns of destruction lashed outward. The vessel they had been closing on erupted with a blinding flash. The other ship veered hard to port. It would take them a few moments to come back around for an attack pattern.

"Great shooting, you got one!" shouted Louiston.

"Just their shields. With any luck, their main engines too."

There was evidence the ship was indeed in trouble. It turned slowly, seeking to avoid further combat. McNally adjusted course to pursue the damaged craft. As they drew near, McNally launched a small missile, which blazed towards the crippled ship. Seconds later a small explosion blossomed near the rear section of the retreating craft.

"That will teach them how the cow eats cabbage," chuckled McNally.

"What gives McNally? I thought you didn't want any unnecessary bloodshed!"

"That was a surgical strike! I just cut off their balls! They'll be okay...as long as they're wearing their radiation suits. But someone's definitely going to have to come out and get them!"

Unexpectedly, the shuttle shook violently and angled sideways as a tremendous explosion detonated on their starboard shield. The second security vessel had returned on its attack run. McNally swore, adjusting their flight while assessing for possible damage.

Louiston turned in his seat and looked at the attacking vessel.

"They're coming in," he said, anxiety tainting his voice.

"We've got a problem here," said McNally, as he slaved over the controls.

The ship lurched again as another barrage of destruction pounded their shields. Louiston all but screamed as the cockpit began to fill with smoke. "You had better do something fast!"

"I don't understand it," said McNally as he rapidly glanced out the window. "That first hit must have done something to our field generators! We seem to be losing power!"

"We seem to be about to die," shouted Louiston, as another series of blasts slammed into their craft. "If you know some tricks, now's the time to use them!"

Suddenly, the shuttle lurched forward with renewed speed as McNally feverishly wrestled with the controls. The ship banked sharply as he tried to align the attacking craft in his weapons' sights. But the maneuver was slow and the other craft followed them into the turn.

"Blast!" screamed McNally, "Something's jamming the controls! I'm going to have to try to outrun them!"

As Louiston watched the trailing vessel, their craft straightened out and again surged forward. The security craft fired an additional volley and missed. Louiston looked to McNally, expecting salvation from their predicament. "Well? What's the story? Tell me we're going to get away...tell me we'll be okay! You lunatic, tell me anything!"

"This doesn't look good," said McNally, glancing over his shoulder. "Our shields are down to forty-percent and I'm having trouble with the weapons!"

"Just what the heck does that mean?"

"We're going to have to jettison some excess weight! Standby! This is going to be rough!"

Abruptly the shuttle lurched as a small explosion came from the rear of the craft. McNally strained at the controls, swinging the ship to port. To their rear, the pursuing craft was closing fast. It suddenly banked momentarily before a titanic detonation surrounded the craft.

"Got 'em," sighed McNally.

"What do you mean, 'got 'em?'"

McNally did not answer. Their craft sped on as he adjusted their course into the blackness that stretched before them. Louiston gave one look back to see what lay behind. There was no further pursuit.

"I don't see them."

There was a long pause before McNally replied. "That's because they're gone."

"They're gone? Gone as in 'back to the asteroid'?"

"I mean gone as in forever and ever, amen..."

"I don't believe this," gasped Louiston. "You've been busting my buns this whole time about the importance of innocent lives...and now you tell me they're atomized?"

"I jettisoned the shuttle's auxiliary power-core in their path. With the damage to our ship, it was the only way to assure our escape."

"But..."

"But nothing! I said you were the most important person in my universe...and if you hadn't noticed, my universe was about to end!"

"Nice to see your priorities change when you own skin is on the line."

McNally remained silent as the shuttle continued into the darkness of deep space.

***

Nursing the damaged engines, they traveled in silence for more than two hours. Occasionally, McNally would run a check through the navigation system. In his headset, he could hear Louiston snoring softly behind him. Earlier, Louiston had tried to engage McNally in conversation several times, but when no reply came, he had eventually drifted into sleep.

Smiling, McNally adjusted the volume on the craft's interior radio. " _Louiston!_ "

The sleeping man jerked upright and looked about him. "Wha—what now?" he stammered.

Chuckling, McNally turned in his seat. "Wake up call! My ship's just ahead."

"Oh yeah? I hope it's in better condition than this shuttlecraft. Let's take a look at it."

McNally flicked several switches and the cockpit's windows brightened as they shifted to radar-receptive telescopic mode. Before them, Louiston now saw a large space-tractor. Even though it was still several thousand meters distant, Louiston guessed it was the largest rig he had ever seen. But it was dwarfed by the monstrous, irregularly shaped mountain of rock that lay behind it. The radar imagery did not show the tractor beam that connected the ship and load; for all Louiston could tell, the beam might not even be activated.

"Nice rig," commented Louiston. "Interstar dynamic-class, I'll bet."

"Close! D-class 1800-plus. She's one of a kind! I.S. 4200-series fusion engines with a dynamic-class inertial system, boosted with a secondary fusion converter. I could pull a small moon out of orbit with that sucker...and not even experience stage two secondary vibrations!"

Louiston whistled softly. "What are you hauling?"

"The load grosses a little over two-hundred billion tons. Lots of frozen hydrogen and nitrogen. But she's rich with a streak of gold and other heavier elements. My last load."

"So? You retiring?"

"Hardly! My contract was cancelled! That's my tenth load."

"Cranston open contract?"

"That's right...want to tell me about your last partner? Gibson wasn't it? Whatever happened to him?"

There was a long pause before Louiston replied. "Yeah, his name was Gibson. We were pulling in our tenth load when those Cranston blackhearts cancelled our contract!"

"And Gibson?"

"I guess he ran his mouth to the wrong people...about the wrong things. He disappeared two weeks ago. I've been running ever since!"

"Know of anyone else this has happened to?"

"I've heard rumors. This sector of the Oort is a big place...lots of haulers, lots of mining stations. I've been out here five years and rarely met the same hauler more than five or six times. But I've still heard stories."

McNally was now busy guiding the craft towards the rig's underbelly docking bay. He paused and turned once more to face Louiston. "According to records supplied to me by The Company and ISDOT, Cranston Incorporated has cancelled almost three hundred contracts in the past two years! Over ninety-percent of those haulers have disappeared. I think I got to you just in time to keep you from becoming one of those statistics! What do you think?"

"So that's it, you're an agent for the Interstellar Department of Transportation!"

"Not really...The Company is tired of hearing about disappearing men and rigs. They sent me out here to put an end to this nonsense...and to make sure that Edward Cranston and all the scum-eating vermin that work for him are put out of business!"

Louiston said nothing as he tried analyzing the events of the last few hours. Finally he had to ask. "So just where the blazes do I fit into this?"

McNally's reply was immediate: "Like I said...you're _evidence_!"

CHAPTER THREE: MCNALLY ALMOST HONKS IT

Edward Cranston slowly pushed his chair away from his desk, stood and walked over to the large window dominating an entire wall of this office. He took a deep breath and looked out at the rolling expanse covering the interior cylinder of the Madeira Colony. Looking upward, he shielded his eyes with one hand; the glare from the neon florescent lighting tubes could be fierce. Glancing around his hand, he saw the other side of the cylinder seven miles overhead. Looking to his left, he almost believed he could see the end wall of the colony some eleven miles distant. A light haze hung over the parks, gardens and buildings stretching out towards that end of the colony—a truly inspiring and beautiful view.

The area occupied by the colony and its seven hundred thousand inhabitants had been carved from an asteroid's interior a little more than a four-centuries before. The project had taken a dozen decades to complete and was hailed as one of mankind's greatest achievement. Back then gravity had been maintained by placing the asteroid in a slow spin. Now, artificially generated gravity fields did the same thing.

Cranston smiled. The project that most occupied his corporation had begun more than ten years past. Soon it would be time for scholars to update the list of the solar system's seven wonders.

The intercom on his desk chimed. "Mr. Burroughs is here sir," said his secretary. Cranston spent a moment more absorbing a partial view of the more than five hundred-fifty square miles making up the Madeira Colony, then returned to his desk.

"Send him in, Margaret," said Cranston, keying the intercom.

Almost immediately, the double doors to his office slid open and Burroughs, dressed immaculately as always, walked briskly into the room.

"Good day, Mr. Burroughs," said Cranston, as he sat behind his desk. "I trust your flight back was enjoyable."

"It was uneventful, as usual sir," the somber man replied.

Again the intercom chimed. "Mr. Johnson, sir."

"Send him in," said Cranston casting a dark glance at Burroughs.

The doors again slid open as Johnson entered. "Please, take a seat," said Cranston, gesturing towards the chair that was directly before his desk.

"Mr. Johnson, you were to secure one Samuel Louiston, commonly referred to as Doctor Louiston. Not only did Louiston elude your men, but now two of our most valuable employees lie cooling on a morgue slab on some distant outpost."

Cranston turned his chair to face Burroughs. "I am confident you have an explanation for this somewhat disastrous turn in events."

Johnson squirmed in his chair. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead and upper lip. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Cranston. But an unknown individual intervened—"

"Intervened and complicated my otherwise simple instructions?" Cranston swung his chair around to face Johnson. "Mr. Burroughs, you were to choose someone to supervise this mundane chore. It is apparent that your choice of Mr. Johnson was an error. You have failed! Please explain to me how you intend to rectify this blunder!"

For a moment Burroughs gazed intently at Cranston. Then with almost laconic slowness, he reached into his jacket, withdrew his pistol and fired at Johnson. The man lurched backwards in his chair as the soft-nosed titanium slug ripped through his skull. The body hit the floor and jerked once.

Cranston again stood and faced the window. "I don't need to tell you what's at risk here. I want to know what happened to Louiston and I want to know who this mystery man is! We may be a quarter of a light year from Earth, but sometimes even small indiscretions have a way of making themselves known to the home office and ISDOT. Now you find these men and eliminate them! No further instructions and no further questions! I want them dead, is that clear? And call cleanup on your way out and have this mess removed."

Burroughs nodded and left the office.

Cranston walked to the window and again surveyed the magnificence of Madeira Colony. It was _indeed_ a beautiful view.

***

"So what the heck do we do now?" asked Louiston as he walked into the main control room. "By the way, what's the name of this royal liner of a space-tractor?"

"I call her the Duster," said McNally, swinging his chair away from the control panel. "Stands for Starduster. I like to keep everything short and sweet. As to your question...we need to continue building evidence against Cranston and his organization. We know he's been suckering tractor teams with his open contracts. We know that a good percentage of those pilots have disappeared, and we can speculate that he must have help from the Sector authorities. We need to prove that help! Ever heard of Claire Cranston?"

Louiston paused in thought. "I know of a Thornby Cranston...mines the outer boundaries of this sector, but I don't know any Claire."

"You're not much help," sneered McNally, engaging the main engines. "Claire's been working for about four months at a club over on the Donadio asteroid, about twenty-seven hours from here. She's Cranston's stepdaughter."

"You don't say. What good is she going to be to your little plot that, if I may point out, seems to involve the investigation of someone who eats little people like us for breakfast?"

McNally continued working the controls as the ship crept into motion. "I'm going to ignore your obvious attempts to insult me. Ms. Cranston is the dispossessed heir to the fortune that big daddy has been using to eliminate haulers and generally rule the commerce in this portion of the cloud. Her testimony is part of the information I need to transmit back to The Company. With that done, I'll have a license to remove however many individuals I deem necessary to eradicate the cancer that has festered in this sector!"

"Well excuse me! I don't want to stand between you and your delusions of grandeur."

"Look Doc, I'm telling your straight...I came all the way out here to fix this mess. If you don't want to be in on the downfall of the Cranston Empire, just let me know! I can drop you off in space anywhere along the way, but our next stop is the Donadio outpost, and if you don't like it, say so now."

"Hey, Donadio sounds fine to me!"

***

Claire closed the door to her office, stepping outside and looking about the club. The crowd was still thin, but with the second shift ending soon, the lounge was sure to fill with the usual miners and technicians. Unfortunately, the evening crowd proved the most difficult to deal with. She was tired and hoped she would not have to tolerate the advances of more than a dozen or so customers. Claire always hated being mistaken for one of the club's working girls. As assistant manager, she liked to stay in the background and remain as low-key as possible. The last thing she wanted was to attract the wrong kind of attention—from the wrong kind of people.

The early regulars had already taken up their favorite tables and stools. One group of men she didn't recognize sat around a table to one side of the dark stage. She thought this unusual, as it was still at least an hour before the first dancers would make their appearance, and the first girls to go on were not their best draw. Those dancers would go on later, after the evening crowd had a few drinks and were more likely to tip better. Claire uneasily looked about for others she did not recognize—years of hiding from her stepfather had made her _very_ cautious.

That's when she spotted the two strangers coming through the entrance and making their way towards the bar. One moved...well... _different_ , his dark eyes swept the room obviously intent on a purpose other than a night of alcohol, relaxation and companionship. He was tall, muscular and gave the impression of someone used to moving fast. As he looked about, Claire was uncertain why, but he reminded her of nothing less than a deadly predator seeking his next kill.

The other man appeared no different than any other customer, just another hauler in search of drink and company between loads...or _was_ he? Studying him more closely, she noticed his gaze was accentuated with nervous glances about the room. Watching these two, Claire was getting nervous herself.

The taller man leaned across the bar and spoke to the keep in low tones, gesturing in her direction. When the bartender nodded and also looked her way, the dark eyed individual fixed her with his intense stare. Claire felt a chill climb her spine and she immediately grew alarmed. Had her stepfather finally found her?

The two left the bar and walked across the club. When they drew near, Claire stood straight, inhaled deeply and readied herself should events dictate a hurried exit.

McNally stopped close to what Louiston considered the most striking woman he had seen in a _very_ long time. Her dark, silken gown flowed almost to the floor, a provocative slit almost reaching her hip. The dress hugged her curves in all the best places. She stood confident and sure of herself, but Louiston thought he could see a touch of nervousness play about her eyes as she looked McNally over. He smiled despite his anxiety, he understood how she felt—McNally had that effect on people.

"Ms. Cranston," said McNally. "We are not your father's employees. I need your help, and if you could give us a few minutes, I promise you will find our conversation most interesting."

Claire's breath caught in her throat when the stranger mentioned her stepfather. She had used her real name for so long, she had forgotten just how much she hated her adopted one.

"Look mister, if half the people in this room knew my name was Cranston, they'd probably pay good money to tear my heart out." She looked about, trying to act casually. She noticed the men who had first caught her attention rise in unison from their table and start in her direction. "You just gave me the scare of my life."

"I bear you no ill will," continued McNally, "but it is _imperative_ we talk."

"Look fellah, I'm sure you have some interesting business to discuss. Don't turn around...but there are some _serious_ looking men heading this way! If nothing else, around here you become a good judge of looks...and these guys look like _really_ bad news for _someone_!"

Louiston glanced rapidly over his shoulder. "Blast it," McNally! If those aren't Cranston's men, I'll kiss your butt! They must have figured out we'd come here looking for his daughter! Let's get out of here!"

McNally turned slightly and fixed Louiston with a relaxed, but cold smile. "You have my permission to use your weapon...when the action starts, take out as many as you can. Try not to hit any of the other people unless they make a move towards us! If my guess is correct, they'll be more than just these five that are heading this way!"

Claire looked surprised. "You didn't even _look_. How did you know?"

One of the men in the gang mumbled something to the others as he reached inside his jacket. The men suddenly surged forward as a group, spreading outward to surround Claire and the two strangers. Louiston whirled and dodged to one side, crouching as he fluidly drew the cumbersome TS-11, firing several rounds at the nearest men.

As the deafening reports rang out, the club exploded into motion. The working girls screamed while moving away from the trouble as men around the room jumped up in confusion. McNally grabbed Claire, lunging smoothly to one side as several attackers crashed past them, tripping over McNally's outstretched foot, clumsily knocking chairs and tables about in their haste. Claire tried to say something as McNally shoved her out of harm's way and jerked back to elbow a huge brute across the throat.

McNally spared a moment to look about as the man hit the floor. He ducked low and charged. Louiston fired again and scored—that was two down. McNally extended his arms, catching two men across their midsection, his legs pumping powerfully as momentum carried them towards the bar, crashing against its unyielding surface. The men fell stunned and McNally finished the job with two well-aimed kicks.

The fifth man paused in confusion, looking for some place to run as McNally turned towards him. Louiston used that moment to his advantage and disabled the man with a roundhouse swing of the TS-11 to his temple.

Two others sitting near the bar jumped up, reaching for their weapons. Bellowing, McNally dove, knocking them across the floor, where they briefly struggle furiously. Seconds later, he stood and shouted to Louiston. "Grab the girl! Head for the loading bays! Let's move!"

Louiston ran to Claire as McNally sprinted for the entrance. "Come on Miss," said Louiston. "If you stick around here I'm sure you'll be _very_ sorry!" He grabbed her arm, pulling her along, following after McNally. For an uncertain moment, Claire resisted, then ran with Louiston after the initial shock wore off. These two men knew who she was and were apparently trying to help her...that's all that mattered for the moment.

At the doorway, Louiston and Claire caught up with McNally. Already, klaxons hammered the air with their relentless sounding.

"We've walked into a trap," cried McNally. "Ms. Cranston, I'm sorry about all of this, but you are in grave danger! Those most certainly were your father's men. I can't be sure, but right now he may want you as dead as he does Doctor Louiston and me."

Louiston smiled and quickly half bowed at the somewhat hurried introduction. "His name is McNally and he knows what he's talking about, believe me! It really would be better if you came with us!"

Suddenly, McNally shielded them as the corridor exploded with flames from the plasma weapons of fully armored security guards that appeared from around a corner. In a seemingly insane maneuver, McNally fearlessly stepped forward, extending his left arm towards the soldiers. To the surprise of Louiston and Claire, the shots detonated in mid-air—impossibly stopped by some unseen wall of resistance. McNally advanced, showing not the least concern about the men blocking their way. "Come on," he yelled. After a moment of uncertainty, Louiston and Claire followed.

The security team continued firing and filled the air with the sizzling energies of their weapons. Claire watched in bewilderment as the metal slugs and plasma bursts stopped short of McNally's outstretched arm. She was even further amazed when McNally extended his other hand, casting crackling currents of electrical energy outward from his fingertips.

The attacking group scattered as explosions of force ripped through their ranks. As quickly as they had appeared, the stunned men were left lying about in smoldering heaps.

McNally turned and grabbed Louiston by the arm. "Plan B, my friend! Don't worry about me!" He shoved Louiston and Claire in the opposite direction.

Louiston started to protest, then guided Claire in the direction McNally had indicated. Doorways opened as the curious looked out into the hall, wondering as to the meaning of the security klaxons and commotion. Louiston sent them retreating for cover with several shots fired over their heads.

"You must be insane," Claire screamed, trying to be heard above the uproar. "You're going to get us killed!"

Louiston did not reply. They shortly came to a loading bay and ducked rapidly inside. Stopping at a large, sleek vessel, Louiston pointed her towards the entry hatch.

"You'll like this ship," panted Louiston. "The last time we did this, McNally was flying a little piece of junk! I convinced him to do it right this time!"

Louiston climbed into the ship, slid into the pilot's seat and started the engines. They immediately hummed powerfully into life. He initiated artificial gravity at the same time he keyed the command to open the hangar doors. Outside the ship, the bay's monitors sounded an alarm as the personnel hatch to the loading bay slammed shut. Louiston knew the outpost's systems would not allow the entry of vacuum into the asteroid's interior and hoped the automatic functions would take care of the details. When the doors before him had opened wide enough, he punched the throttle, launching the sleek craft into space.

"What about your friend?" asked Claire.

"Beats the stuffings out of me! His Plan B was for you and me to get out of here without him...no questions! Believe me, you don't argue with McNally. He's got something planned—I just don't know what it is. Now sit down and strap in! This may get bumpy!"

Claire chuckled nervously. "I just admit, this is a strange way to show a girl a good time."

Louiston made the adjustments that would launch their craft forward at a quarter the speed-of-light.

***

McNally jumped backward as the bulkheads erupted from the destructive blasts of high caliber weapons. He had expected to meet some resistance, but the displayed firepower told him Cranston's thugs had been quick to diagnose the seriousness of McNally's plans. Ducking into a side corridor, he ran towards the asteroid's Agra-plant. Along the way, he dropped several slow burning force flares. It would take a good twenty minutes for the pyrotechnics to burn out. By then he hoped to be long gone.

He entered the lush growth of the vast agricultural compartment and spotted his contact. "All right, where is it?" he screamed as he ran up to the Agra-tech.

"It's right over here! For crying out loud McNally, the whole station is on alert! Can't you do anything without starting a minor war?"

"Cranston second guessed me on this one. But Louiston and the girl escaped! At least my implants registered the departure of the ship we came in! Quick, turn around...I'll hide you in one of the storage lockers when I'm done."

"Oh no you don't," the man replied, backing towards a nearby airlock. "George may have to retire with twenty-percent disability...you ain't whacking _me_ on the back of the head, you sadistic bastard! Now get the blazes out of here you crazy space bum! Give Cranston a kick in the ass for me!" The man disappeared as the hatch closed behind him.

McNally smiled, running over to a large growth of potato vines. He ripped the vegetation away to expose what lay hidden beneath. It stood like something out of a nightmare. What looked like a gutted mechanical human shell stood secured to a half-again as tall cylindrical object pointed on the upper end.

McNally turned, raised his arms in imitation of the grotesque apparatus, and backed into its grasp. Immediately, the mechanical shell closed about his body and outstretched arms. Sealed inside his artificial environment, McNally reached down to his chest plate and keyed the controls activating the propulsion engine connected to his back. The unit roared into life and shot upwards, the ceiling exploding outward as the one-man spacecraft punched through and streaked above the surface of the asteroid. McNally activated the controls that would home in on the Starduster's beacon. He hoped Louiston had managed to get Claire safely off the Donadio station without too much difficulty.

As the asteroid receded behind him, McNally cursed how easily his plans had been anticipated. Cranston and his men were good. If he wasn't careful, they might learn The Company's true intentions, and two years of planning would be all but undone. That would be hard enough explaining to his superiors, much less the Inter-system Navy. From here on he would have to anticipate his target's every move.

McNally looked into the abyss of space and activated the propulsion system's distortion field, preparing to warp through the void.

CHAPTER FOUR: MCNALLY EXPLAINS ALL AND GETS ARRESTED

Louiston watched the controls as the craft shot through space. He was accustomed to the sluggish maneuvers of a space-tractor pulling a load of Oort rock, not the response speed of what had to be the fastest ship he ever piloted.

"You're worried about McNally aren't you?" asked Claire, sliding into the copilots chair. "Do you suppose he's okay?"

"He knows what he's doing," replied Louiston, checking the computer for their ETA. "We teamed up only two days ago. He's quite an interesting fellow once you get used to him. He briefed me before we reached the Donadio station. I'm not sure what he had in mind, but he plans to meet us."

"Well, can you at least let me in on what's going on here—"

"Maybe later," interrupted Louiston. "We're coming up on the mother-ship. At seventy-four-thousand kilometers-per-second, I don't want to overshoot...I'm not quite sure how to work this thing in reverse!"

Claire started to laugh, but when she glanced at the complex controls and Louiston's sweat-glistened face, she thought better of it. He obviously lacked cybernetic implants with which to link directly to the controls and was straining to read everything at once, so she left the copilot's station and sat in one of the passenger chairs to avoid distracting him.

An audible signal sounded as an entirely new section of the control board's circuitry activated. "Here it comes," whispered Louiston. When the signal shifted in tone, he quickly disengaged the drive and cut-in the inertial brakes. The Starduster and its load shot toward them with breath-taking speed...and suddenly stopped.

"God, I'll never get used to that," sighed Louiston, glancing between the view screen and the controls. "Talk about precision! We just powered down from max drive and we're only two hundred meters from McNally's ship! I've never done anything like that before in my life!" He turned to grin back at Claire.

Claire smiled in return. She liked Louiston's calm, polite manner; he just did not fit the type of personality that would associate with the rough-and-tumble characters usually found hauling Oort balls. He lacked the brash, insulting mannerisms found in some of the other haulers she had met through the years. And although they met only two hours before, Claire suddenly realized she enjoyed his company.

"Better strap in," Louiston advised as he turned his attention to the craft before them. "We'll be boarding in less than a minute!"

***

Mr. Burroughs straightened his tie, and moved his chair closer to the desk as he completed the call to Cranston's office on the Madeira Colony. The connection was made almost instantaneously. Although the colony was four light-hours distant, the subspace-gravitrino communication circuits cut the delay time to less than a millisecond. The monitor lit to reveal Cranston's back, he faced away from Burroughs, looking out the large window showing a sweeping, panoramic vista of the colony beyond. Nearly a minute passed before Cranston turned to face the screen; he did not look pleased.

"You lost him!"

"No sir," Burroughs corrected. "We successfully anticipated his next move and tried to intercept him. However, his plans evidently took into account the possibility of opposition during his mission. We do know who he is—Randal McNally, a long-time trouble-shooting agent for The Company. Evidently your interference with normal commerce in this sector has not gone unnoticed."

Cranston slammed his fist down upon the desk and leaned towards the screen. " _My interference_?!! Must I remind _you_ that _my_ well being directly translates to the entire corporation and its employees? Which includes _you_ , Mr. Burroughs! I don't suppose you've succeeded in reading his mind and know what further steps he's planning?"

"Yes...and no, sir. Although we cannot read his mind, the fact that he has secured your stepdaughter leads us to believe that her involvement is somehow necessary in his plans. This could only mean McNally is attempting to somehow terminate your... _our_ covert operations in this sector."

Cranston leaned back in his chair contemplating Burroughs information. "All right. So what's your next move?"

"I have contacted our men in the Sector Patrol. They have assured me they will intercept McNally and promise he will cause no further difficulties. I trust you wish Louiston and the girl to share the same fate as McNally?"

Cranston half stood and leaned toward the screen until only his face was visible. "Now you listen to me! I want them _alive_ —don't screw _that_ up! I need to find out exactly how much he knows! But destroy his ship! I want this done before he can initiate further operations for whoever is calling his shots! If this goes any further, I promise, you will not be in a position to care about the outcome of this matter!"

"Understood, sir," Burroughs terminated the com-link before Cranston could reply.

***

Claire exited the craft and looked about the spacious docking hanger while Louiston checked the bay's controls, insuring all systems were normal and the shuttle was properly secured. He did not want to leave anything for McNally to complain about.

"Hello there, what took you so long?"

Louiston whirled around, the TS-11 appearing in his hand almost magically. " _You!_ "

McNally stood in shadow, leaning against the bulkhead. He unfolded his arms and walked toward Claire. "I apologize for your abrupt departure from the Donadio station, Ms. Cranston. Doctor Louiston and I are in a position where seemingly drastic measures are in order!"

Claire accepted McNally's outstretched hand. "My name is Claire Murphy. My _stepfather's_ name is Cranston...I would rather not be reminded of that."

McNally smiled broadly and turned to the amazed Louiston. "Well? You seem somewhat surprised! You really didn't think you'd arrive before me, did you?"

Louiston looked about as it trying to discover something that was hidden only from him. "Is there another shuttle in some other bay? How in the blazes did you beat us back here? We are thrusting at a quarter light-speed!"

"The fastest speed known to our limited technology, eh?" asked McNally, taking hold of Louiston by the arm. "My dear Doctor, 'there are more things between Heaven and Earth than dreamt of in your philosophy.' Shakespeare...albeit quoted poorly! The propulsion unit I used to make my escape is capable of speeds far greater than those known to the general public...in order words, it's a military secret!"

"But..."

"But dinner is getting cold! Come on up to the mess deck. I fear we are being bad hosts to the lady!"

McNally took Claire's hand and led her and the befuddled Louiston towards the elevator. "My most honored guests, I promise to explain all. But we must hurry if we are to have a bite to eat before the Sector Patrol arrives!"

***

McNally wiped his mouth, pushed himself away from the table and watched as the other two finished their meal. "What do you think? Can I cook fried chicken or what?"

"This is the best synthetic food I've ever eaten," said Claire, reaching for another drumstick. "My compliments to the robo-chef!"

"No really...I cooked it myself! I simply placed it in culinary stasis until we got here." He walked to a nearby wall console. "And that's not synthetic. A short time ago, those chickens were feasting on bugs crawling around on good old Martian soil! New Georgia, to be precise!" As his hands flicked over the panel, the wall behind him lit to show a diagram of the solar system.

"Entertainment?" asked Louiston, pouring thick gravy over a fresh portion of mashed potatoes.

"Our home," replied McNally. "The Sol system—eight plants, hundreds of moons and billions of smaller bodies—most out here in the Oort, of course! The domain of over nine hundred billion human beings. It's all we have, discounting the dozen or so pathetically small colonies we've established within ten light years...and not an Earth-normal planet in sight! Old Earth won't be habitable again for hundreds, if not _thousands_ , of years!"

McNally turned and walked towards Claire. She stopped eating as she met his gaze. "Miss Murphy, can you tell me what happens when mankind, like a horde of rodents, multiplies and occupies every inhabitable portion of its environment?" He continued without waiting for a reply. "They eat everything—all the plants, all the animals and soon, they'll start on the very ground beneath their feet. Given enough time, they'll eat each other! This is why we're out here...in the Oort cloud. We're the farmers, the suppliers of our race's raw materials! From the resources here, the conversion plants manufacture food, building materials, medical supplies and everything else that is in such short supply back in the inner-system. We're mankind's lifeline to the future. If anything happens to us, our species will die!"

"Thanks for the history lesson," said Claire. "What's for dessert?"

"Not that we don't appreciate the somewhat dramatic explanation of basic supply and demand," added Louiston. "But what does this have to do with us and our little problem with Cranston Incorporated?"

"Everything! This area of the cloud is but one of more than ten thousand similar operations beyond the inner planets. Cranston is not the only low-life in space, but if every petty tyrant is left unchecked, the inner-system will eventually feel the effects! Which translates to suffering and lives lost."

The picture on the wall changed as McNally again tapped the controls. The solar system was replaced by a series of graphs and charts, showing imports, exports, and the general economy of what Louiston assumed was the local region of the cloud.

"To make a long story short," said McNally, returning to his seat. "Cranston's been skimming raw materials from his company's shipments for a _very_ long time. A few years ago, that not so minor skimming turned into a major operation— _hundreds_ of haulers and their ships have vanished! And his shipments back to the inner-system are down by seventy percent! That's why The Company sent over one hundred agents and _me_ out here! His time is up—I'm here to punch his clock!"

***

Commander Stevens stood at his COM-station, facing the main view-screen. At a tenth of the speed-of-light, the stars were vague and elongated by the Doppler effect. The engines of the Sector Patrol ship Valiant thrummed powerfully as the battle cruiser followed the unmistakable energy stream.

"This McNally cannot possibly be as clever as we have been led to believe," said Stevens to no one in particular. "I'm sure it was only his luck at the Yak asteroid that prevented the security craft from following his ion trail."

Stevens turned and addressed one of the other four men on the bridge. "Well, Lieutenant Hinderken, where is he?"

"Long range scanners indicate a large vessel three light-minutes distant. My best guess is that it's the Starduster. I think we've got him, sir!"

"Excellent," replied Stevens. "Power down to cruising speed. Let's sneak up on him. We don't want him to know we're coming before we get a chance to lock him in!" Stevens again turned to face the view screen as the stars shrank to their normal appearance. "Mr. Cranston would be unhappy if our quarry got away this time!"

***

McNally and Louiston sat in the control room discussing final details.

'"Now make sure you understand this," cautioned McNally as he leaned forward, locking eyes with Louiston. "I know you're not familiar with a lot of this stuff, but it's really very simple. Any mistakes and I'll have to work that much harder before we can transmit!"

"I think I have it," replied Louiston, touching several controls on the panel before him. "You're sure this is going to work?"

"Trust me. The electronics on this craft far surpass anything these yokels have _ever_ imagined! Just follow my instructions and be at the rendezvous point in forty hours. I'll worry about myself! Don't make me worry about you and Claire!"

Louiston was about to reply when a circuit on the panel began flashing as audible alarms sounded within the control room.

"They're here," said McNally, silencing the alarm. "Get to your station. Make sure Claire has her belt-module activated! Yours too! And be where you're supposed to be when I get there!" McNally smiled and grasped Louiston's shoulder. "Don't make me come looking for you. Remember—forty hours!"

Louiston fumbled at the small module attached to his waist, then looked back to McNally. For a moment, he hesitated, then nodded and hastily departed the control room.

McNally sat back and inhaled deeply, reaching to activate a hailing frequency. "Unidentified approaching craft, please state your purpose."

Momentarily, a speaker crackled the reply. "Space-tractor Starduster, this is the Sector Patrol craft Valiant, Commander Stevens speaking! Lay-to and prepare for boarding! Do not attempt to flee!"

Synchronous to the transmission, a plasma blast from the Valiant shot across the bow of the Starduster. McNally chuckled, turning away from the view screen. "Valiant, please come along side. My engines are shut down and will remain so!"

***

As the Valiant closed on the Starduster, a tractor beam shot from the Patrol ship, locking the larger craft in an unbreakable grip. Then the cruiser drew closer, seeking the forward docking hatch.

On the command deck, Stevens paced nervously as the final adjustments for docking were made. When the Valiant extended its flexible boot, locking around the captured craft's forward hatch, the senior officer turned to Lieutenant Hinderken. "Get the boarding party in motion mister," he snapped. "Round-up everyone aboard and secure that ship! I want no mistakes! If you encounter resistance, don't kill anyone! _Especially_ McNally—Cranston wants him alive! Are we clear on this, mister?"

"Yes sir," replied Hinderken, saluting smartly and leaving the control room double-time. Running towards the boarding hatch, his hand drifted to his sidearm, releasing the weapon's safety. The stakes were high on this one. He was only too painfully aware that his career depended upon the successful completion of his mission.

***

The personnel access-hatch hissed open. McNally swiveled in his chair to face the men rushing inward, dispersing in classic military formation. The leading four soldiers fanned-out and dropped to crouching positions, their rifles leveled in preparation to answer any fire that might greet them. From behind, a dozen more men rushed into the compartment, taking up strategic defensive positions. Only then did their squad leader pass through the hatch.

McNally rose while clapping his hands briskly. All weapons in the compartment turned in his direction.

"Excellent! I am truly impressed," said McNally, walking towards Hinderken. "If I had a crew of armed cut-throat mercenaries, I'm sure a magnificent battle would now be raging! As it is...I am alone, and offer no obstruction to your well trained boarding party!"

The Lieutenant, hand on weapon, advanced to face the solitary figure. "I presume you are Randal McNally? By the authority of the Sector Patrol, you are hereby instructed to surrender your craft and all those aboard! Your cooperation is welcome, but not necessary! Any resistance will be met with whatever force is necessary to secure this craft!"

"I am indeed Randal McNally! However, I have no resistance to offer. My craft is available to whatever inspection you wish to conduct. But there are no 'others' onboard!"

"Where are Doctor Samuel Louiston and Miss Cranston?" demanded Hinderken, looking around the compartment as if the two named might be hiding in a corner.

"Who? As I said, there is no one else aboard!"

Hinderken motioned to four men holding portable scanners. They activated the instruments and left to search the ship.

"They'll find nothing," said McNally. "Now what have I done to warrant the attention of the Sector Patrol?"

"Murder, insurrection, piracy, destruction of private property...need I go on? Edward Cranston himself has offered quite a reward for your capture; you're a _very_ valuable person, Mister McNally!" Hinderken chuckled and grinned broadly.

"Too bad Sector policy prohibits their officers from accepting gratuities from private sources," taunted McNally. "At least their _junior_ officers, anyway!"

The younger man's smile vanished as his face hardened into what McNally thought was a good impression of a scowl. The Lieutenant turned, and in hushed tones, spoke to several soldiers. McNally quietly exhaled, forcing himself to relax. It probably wasn't a good time to agitate these men too much. There was plenty of time for that—later.

Less than fifteen minutes passed before the scanning team returned. In puzzled explanations, they informed Lieutenant Hinderken the search had discovered no other life forms on the ship. It was evident the Lieutenant found these results as confusing as they were unsatisfactory. He eyed McNally apprehensively and spoke into his communicator. "Bring it over!"

In moments, two men entered walking on either side of an AG-sled, holding an ominous array of cylinders and wires.

McNally moved forward until stopped by raised weapons. "A thermal bomb? Do you intend to destroy my ship?"

"Not if you cooperate," said Hinderken, extending his hand towards McNally. "your personal shield generator...if you please!"

Without hesitation, McNally unfastened his belt and handed it to the Lieutenant.

"Now your weapons! Although I can't imagine where you hide them!"

McNally unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them to expose mechanisms attached above his wrists. These too he passed to the officer.

"Miniature plasma guns? Amazing! How do you keep from burning your hands off? The technicians will have fun with these! Who knows, they may become standard issue for the Patrol—or Cranston security!" Hinderken turned, motioning to the men with the sled. "Set up the bomb!"

In that instant, McNally dove towards the control panel.

The officer had been waiting for just such a move. Before McNally could get within arms reach of the controls, the lieutenant's weapon discharged. The energy beam caught McNally full in the back, blasting a ragged hole through his shirt and tossing him against, and over, a chair. When McNally hit the floor, he remained motionless, acrid smoke rising from his charred back.

The nearest soldier bent over the man and checked for signs of life. "He's alive, sir! His pulse is strong!"

The Lieutenant chuckled and shook his head. "The fool! Take him to the Valiant! Come on, let's get the thermal charge armed so we can get out of here!"

***

When the Valiant was slightly more than one thousand kilometers distant, a panel in the Starduster's control room flashed into activity. It covertly scanned the receding ship, monitoring for unexpected maneuvers. At ten thousand kilometers, the instruments judged the Patrol ship no longer a threat and transmitted a short-range, low frequency internal ship signal.

In a dimly lit corridor outside the engineering spaces, hydraulics hissed as a section of wall paneling slid to one side, revealing a hidden compartment. Louiston cautiously emerged, weapon in hand. When sure no one was waiting, he motioned for Claire to join him.

"Do you think they're gone?" she asked.

"God, I hope so! Let's get to the con. If Randal's right, we've got a _lot_ of work to do!"

CHAPTER FIVE: DOCTOR LOUISTON OPERATES

Claire quietly watched Louiston examining the thermal-device. On hands and knees, he carefully crawled around the bomb several times, inspecting every connection. Occasionally he would stop and mutter to himself as his eyes flashed over the entire unit.

"I'm beginning to worry," Claire said, nervously shifting her weight between her small feet. "Can you disarm it. . .or should I head for an escape pod?"

"Wouldn't do any good...they're still in sensor range—the pod would be detected. We're not supposed to be here, remember? Besides, they're expecting an explosion and we have to give them one...but not here!" Louiston reached forward and carefully disconnected one wire. "There, that takes care of the timer!"

"I don't get it! Why didn't they just detonate the bomb when they left? Seems like they're going through a lot of trouble...not that I mind!"

Louiston stood and went to one of the control room's storage lockers. Opening the door, he reached inside. "Even though that's just a thermal-plasma bomb, the blast would take out the containment field on the ship's main fusion reactor, not to mention the secondary! Now we're talking _thermo-nuclear_! Lots of nasty atomic particles and ionizing energy that would saturate any nearby electronic circuits. They knew what they were doing!"

From the closet, Louiston removed a pressure suit and helmet. These he offered to Claire. "Here, you know how to put these on, don't you?"

***

Edward Cranston leaned back in his chair and smiled. He liked to smile—his employees knew this and always tried their hardest to make Mister Cranston happy. "Commander Stevens, you have just made my day," said Cranston, nodding to the image on the com-screen. "Did he give you much trouble?"

"No sir! He was wounded during the boarding, but he should recover...with a few scars."

"I don't think I'll let him live...just long enough to tell me how much The Company knows of my operation. Then McNally will disappear! What about Louiston and the girl? They're unharmed as well?"

"There were no others...we scanned the entire several ship times and found nothing! Just as McNally said."

Cranston stopped smiling. The frown that replaced it made Stevens glance away uneasily. "Well now...it doesn't make sense for McNally to leave them aboard knowing the ship would be destroyed. If they're somewhere else, we'll find them!"

"Rendezvous with the transfer ship will be in seven hours. You'll have McNally shortly thereafter. Anything further, sir?"

Cranston folded his hands and gazed at the ceiling. "Yes! Check with your navigation boys and find out if there are any stations between McNally's ship and the Donadio asteroid. I don't want those two causing any more problems than they already have!"

After the transmission terminated, Cranston sat motionless for several minutes while analyzing this new information. Where could Louiston and the girl have gone? If they were on some other outpost it was unlikely they could cause much mischief. But they still needed to be taken care of. Loose ends had a nasty way of coming back to haunt the careless.

***

"Watch what you're doing—Ow!" Claire began cursing with such passion that Louiston considered turning off his suit's radio. She shook the fingers of her left hand as she glared at him. He knew she was glaring because he could see her face plainly through the lighted view-plate of her helmet. Claire stopped cursing abruptly, suddenly realizing what she was doing. Moments before, the hand she was shaking had been grasping the safety rail that ran along the exterior hull of the Starduster. Now she floated free—scarcely more than a meter from the ship, but hopelessly out of reach.

Getting Claire into the suit had been battle enough. When presented with the explanation that she would have to assist Louiston in moving the bomb outside and beyond the ship, Claire had made her intentions clear.

"You're _nuts_! I'm not going out _there_! I've _never_ been in vacuum! I've never even been in _free fall_! No! _Forget it_!"

Donning his own suit, he hurriedly told her what would happen if the Sector Patrol didn't get their explosion. When he got to the part about being captured and returned to her stepfather, she almost leapt off the floor. The mention of _him_ moved her into action. Louiston was surprised how fast she climbed into her pressure suit.

He assured her that once the artificial gravity was off, the sled with the bomb would be easy to move beyond the control room and outside the ship.

"I hope I don't throw up," was Claire's only reply.

Much to Louiston's relief, they had no problem getting the sled through the same access hatch that had been used by the Patrol's boarding party. With the AG-field off and the atmosphere evacuated, Claire performed like a seasoned professional. They exited the hatch and began working their way along the ship's hull. It was slow going, but they were still ahead of schedule.

The new clock Louiston installed blinked their remaining time. It matched the setting of the original, but this one was not wired to detonate the bomb. It would emit a signal when their time was up—so far, there was still plenty of time.

Then Claire got careless. More and more, she became engrossed with the view. The fire from thousands of stars contrasting the blackness of space drew her attention outward time and again. They had almost reached the point where they were to release the bomb, when she turned again to gaze into the void. Louiston tried shifting his weight and holding the drifting sled, and it had all but stopped when one corner managed to make contact with Claire's left hand, wedging her fingers between its mass and the safety rail on the hull. That's when she began to curse.

Louiston found her present situation almost comical. As he held onto the sled, Claire floated slowly away from the hull. He could imagine her panic at the helplessness of being adrift in space. In spite of himself, Louiston was surprised when Claire continued to not only appear calm, but also extremely peeved.

"All right bonehead, just how do you expect me to get back over there?" She turned, facing away from Louiston.

"Hang tight, I'll get to you!" He checked the improvised timer—twelve minutes remaining—it was going to be close. Clamping his magnetic boots to the ship's hull, he released the safety rail and aligned the sled. Once satisfied with the direction, Louiston started the small gyroscope he had attached. It was time for his last addition; he energized a solenoid, opening a series of valves on the exhaust nozzle of the oxygen bottle he had also mounted to the sled.

The assembly began moving, gaining speed rapidly, moving away from the Starduster. In thirty seconds, it was a several hundred meters distant and still accelerating. It was almost too easy.

Now he turned his attention back to Claire. He had to smile. There was no way Claire could have known that such mishaps were common amongst EVA workers, maintenance crews and others who had occasion to venture beyond the confines of a ship while in space. She was scarcely more than ten meters from the vessel when Louiston reached to his belt and disconnected a small cylinder hanging at his side. He held the device to his faceplate while using his other hand to key instructions onto the small controls.

"Grab the line when it comes your way!" He pointed the instrument and fired. A projectile shot to the left of Claire, behind it, a thin cable played outward. The projectile traveled fifteen meters then veered to the right, encircling her. As the miniature missile sputtered and died, Claire pulled herself towards Louiston. In moments she again clung to the side of the ship.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" asked Louiston.

"Listen to me, you no good son-of-a-bi—" The rest of Claire's heated commentary was lost to Louiston. For with a chuckle, he quickly turned off his helmet radio.

***

Back in the control room, Louiston reenergized the AG-field and began filling the compartment with atmosphere as soon as the airlock door had sealed. He moved to the controls as pressure equalized with the rest of the ship. While he worked, Claire removed her suit.

She wanted to be mad at him, but found she could not—she had actually enjoyed the experience. Her hand had not been injured and as Louiston discovered, she had not panicked in the least. Claire watched as Louiston worked in the command chair. Since he was occupied, she came up behind him and removed his helmet. When he looked up with a thank you smile, Claire quickly bent down and gave him a small kiss.

"What's that for?" he asked in surprise, cheeks reddening.

"To apologize for the things I called you. And giving me a chance to prove I could handle myself. It was quite a thrill!"

"I can assure you that was not my intention. Couldn't do the job myself. You're the only one around to help. But I should be the one to apologize—for laughing. But it's always funny the first time a raw space-hand tries free-floating. Maintenance crews consider it nothing less than a necessary initiation!" He did not tell her his radio had been off—her apology had been quite pleasant.

"So now I'm one of the boys, eh?"

"Something like that! Anyway, the bomb's gone and we can now add the finishing touches!"

Claire sat in the chair next to Louiston. "You mean we're not done yet?"

"Hardly! Don't forget, the Patrol will be monitoring for a thermo- _nuclear_ explosion. That little firecracker out there isn't enough!"

"I don't suppose Mr. McNally has an atomic arsenal on board?" She could see Louiston was enjoying this.

"It just so happens he does! McNally already had everything set up and briefed me before the Sector Patrol arrived. I tell you, McNally always seems to know what's going to happen—just like he planned it all along, although I can't see how that's possible! It's spooky. But we do have one tiny problem!"

"I just can't wait to hear this," said Claire as she rolled her eyes in exaggerated frustration. "Don't tell me we're going to have to lug a nuke outside."

Louiston laughed. "Nothing like that! The missile I'm supposed to use has a five-megaton warhead that should be detonated within a hundred meters of the thermal device...if we're going to fool the Patrol."

Claire knew she was missing something obvious. "All right, I give up. What's the problem? I know that between you and this ship's computers that distance shouldn't be any problem!"

As Louiston made adjustments at the controls, the ship shuddered slightly. He turned to Claire and folded his hands behind his head. "Accuracy isn't the issue! To avoid structural damage and massive electronics failure, we really should be at least six or seven thousand kilometers from ground zero—so to speak."

"Did I just feel a missile being launched?"

"That's right." Louiston glanced at the control board's chronometer. "Ninety seconds before the first explosion—it'll be small. Five seconds later, the big one goes off. Allowing for the speed of the sled, we'll be within seven hundred meters of the fireworks!" He gave Claire a toothy grin.

"Okay smart guy, obviously we'll die if we stay here! But if we move, they'll monitor our engines...that take longer to bring on line than we have anyway. Am I to expect a miracle?" She didn't want him to know it, but she _was_ getting nervous.

"As close as they come!" Louiston's hands again returned to the controls. "All we have to do is shift the angularity of the tractor beam that connects us to that mountain back there. Then taking the ship's port gyroscopes off line, we can swing around to the other side of our load. Just like magic!'

With a nod of his head, Louiston directed her attention to the ship's main view screen. To her surprise, the stars were streaming rapidly from left to right. After fifteen seconds, Louiston made some further adjustments and the stars slowed, then were again motionless.

He turned his chair, again clasping his hands behind his head and stretched his legs. "I think I'm falling in love with McNally's little toys! Can you believe that, Miss Murphy?"

"Yes, I can," said Claire, as she hesitantly broke eye contact with Louiston. "And please call me Claire."

"All right—Claire."

"You haven't told me your first name, Mister Louiston."

"Close friends call me Doc; just about everybody else calls me Doctor."

"Why is that?" asked Claire, her eyes returning to meet his.

"I guess it's because people like the way I operate!" He winked.

Claire blushed and wondered how many times young ladies had been blinded by his smile—a smile she believed would light the dark side of an asteroid. She suddenly realized that she had been involuntarily holding her breath. As her eyes locked with his, Claire was certain she perceived a mischievous gleam not there moments before.

CHAPTER SIX: SECTOR PATROL HAS A BAD DAY

McNally had been awake for a while, but had not bothered opening his eyes. Until moments ago, the room contained a guard watching for signs of consciousness. For the most part, McNally had been assessing the damage to his body. Nothing felt broken, and with the exception of his back, everything appeared whole. The wail of pain from the charred area between his shoulder blades filled his head with a gray haze. He at last looked about the room. Nothing unusual, just four bare walls, a door and the table to which he was securely bound.

He didn't spend much time examining the bindings that held his arm, legs and torso; McNally was not presently concerned with escape. What he needed was _answers_ —he knew sooner or later Stevens would bring that information, even if he did not plan to. All McNally had to do was wait and rest while his back began to heal.

***

Commander Stevens looked as the door to his office opened and Hinderken entered, snapped to attention and saluted.

"Speak, Lieutenant!"

"Security reports McNally is awake," said the man as he continued to stare above Stevens' head. "Of course, he is feigning unconsciousness. A remarkable feat, considering the pain in his back must be excruciating!"

"He is indeed remarkable, this mystery man! Did you notice the scans taken when he was brought aboard? There were some areas the x-rays didn't penetrate. His body is riddled and interconnected by apparent null zones that our computers cannot analyze." Stevens fixed the junior officer with a cold stare.

Hinderken now met his commander's stare, hoping he wasn't misreading what he saw there. But it was better to play along, see where this led. "We're maintaining level-four security at the moment. Do you think that's enough sir?"

"Go to level-seven! There will be the devil to pay if McNally escapes! Cranston will castrate me if that happens..." Stevens looked up and met the young man's gaze. "Be assured, before that happens to me, you're fate shall be something far worse!"

***

McNally lifted his head when the door opened; no need continuing the pretense of sleep. His captors would be cautious, but confident since they undoubtedly assumed the bindings were beyond the test of a wounded man's strength. He was not surprised to see Hinderken—he had hoped to. A glance to the other's collar insignia told him this was the commanding officer.

"Hello, Stevens," said McNally, insuring his voice communicated pain as well as weakness. "I trust I haven't caused too much trouble."

Stevens had to laugh. He looked down at the wounded man and could not help but admire McNally's composure. Here was an individual who single-handedly managed to mobilize Cranston's entire security force for the sole purpose of stopping one man. Now he was secured in the interrogation room of a Sector Patrol's battle cruiser; hardly a situation most would find something in which to joke about.

"You have proven to be the proverbial fly in the ointment! What did you plan to accomplish? The Company is an archaic relic much too distant to render assistance to any agent it presumes to send this far into the Oort cloud. And you go after Cranston, of all people! You must be insane!"

"I came because I need one last bit of intelligence," said McNally, glaring at the older man. "The conversion center, Leviathan, Cranston's secret operation—where is it?"

Stevens remained calm as he turned to face the young officer. "Lieutenant, maybe our guest would rather hear about his ship?"

"Sir! Sensors detected a class-three thermo-nuclear detonation twenty light-minutes to our rear. The known location of the Starduster. McNally has no ship, and we have McNally!"

"Enough of this nonsense!" growled Stevens, drawing his sidearm. McNally saw it was a heat-laser capable of penetrating plate steel. "As I've mentioned to Hinderken here, your med-scans prove puzzling, so we did some research. Of course you know what we found!" Stevens aimed his weapon and fired.

***

Claire sipped from a warm cup of herbal tea while telling herself for the tenth time that she wasn't going to cry. Even though the tears she held back were ones of relief, she didn't want to disappoint Doc. She knew he was counting on her to be able to control herself and assist when things got rough—as they just had been. She watched him working over the controls. Every so often he would grunt or murmur in surprise at how easily instructions could be programmed. Occasionally he would glance up and smile at her.

"That was quite a close call! How often does a civilized, colony girl get to witness an atomic blast first hand?"

"Eighteen thousand meters isn't exactly close," he replied. "Most of the distance was taken up by that mountain behind us. You saw the rear scanners; there wasn't even as much as a glow around the edges—we were completely shielded. At worst, we may have lost a couple million tons through surface evaporation from the radiated heat. But the load's still intact."

She stood and approached the side of Louiston's chair. She hesitantly placed one hand on his shoulder. "Why is that important?"

"Don't know," he said, looking up into her eyes. "But in nine hours we, _and_ that load, must be some place far from here. We're off to a good start, and the engines are just now approaching their designed normal power range. Inertials are holding at eighty-seven percent—we'll be a top speed before the hour's up."

"And McNally's going to be there? It doesn't seem possible!"

Louiston rose to face her. "McNally is an unusual man, just as you're an unusual woman. I wish we could have met long ago—" Louiston started to say more, but hesitated while turning his eyes to the wall and across the ceiling before again looking at Claire. "I know it's none of my business, but I've got to ask. Why would a beautiful, resourceful, not mention rich, lady like you work in that club as a...as a..."

Smiling, she lowered her head to hide her blush at his discomfort. It was only natural for him to wonder. "My job was my cover. I've been trying to convince various authorities regarding my stepfather's illegal operations for _years_. I haven't discovered what he's up to, but it's something _big_! There's an entire underground operation out here whose sole purpose is to fuel the ambitions of Edward Cranston!" She paused to return her gaze to Louiston's face. "No, I wasn't an 'entertainment specialist'." I was the assistant manager...the owner is my uncle. He knew what I was doing—they all looked out for me. And no, I'm not rich—just modestly wealthy."

Louiston brushed her long hair from the side of her face, then caressed her cheek softly. "What I mean was why _that_ club? There had to be others where the pay was better!"

Claire's mouth dropped in surprise, until he smiled in his special, mischievous manner. "Just kidding," said Louiston, laughing as he ducked when Claire aimed a punch at his head. Their giggles soon dissolved into a gentle embrace and kiss. She could not understand why she was so quickly drawn to this man...but she was.

***

Lieutenant Hinderken jerked as the beam stung his left shoulder. He stared at the shallow burn and heard Stevens' laser whine a second time. A similar wound appeared on his right shoulder. He turned towards his superior officer, reaching for his own weapon.

"Stop!" commanded Stevens. The laser hummed again and Hinderken's left ear burned with white pain as his cheek tingled from the beam's heat. "Move you hand away from the weapon or I'll drop you where you stand!"

"Better do it," said McNally. His smile was tight and humorless.

Stevens visibly relaxed as he centered his aim on Hinderken's torso. "Cranston's report disclosed that you had started working as a hauler in this sector little more than twelve months ago. After your capture, we scanned for hidden weapons. The results reminded me of the medical file of a young Lieutenant transferred aboard this ship at about the same time you showed up in this sector! The records had identified some metal implants in his head as audio aids. A procedure necessary since he was born with a hearing disorder. What rubbish! I looked at the records again and made the connection immediately! You two probably thought no one would be clever enough to catch on! Now what did you have planned for my ship?"

McNally sadly shook his head as Hinderken burst out laughing. "The man's a blooming genius, Randal! Too bad it won't do him any good! We're at level seven security—every guard moved off this deck and drawn back to critical locations to meet any attempt at escape! I believe this idiot wanted to be a hero—capture me himself and hog the glory!"

"Only one problem, Stevens," said McNally suddenly sitting up. The table's bindings snapping casually, as it made of rotted material. "There's nobody close enough to hear you scream!"

When McNally began to rise from the table, Stevens sighted and fired. This one was meant to kill, the beam aimed for a spot centered between the Lieutenant's eyes. One meters from target, the energy stopped, absorbed by McNally's projected force barrier.

"N-No!" cried Stevens. He stepped backwards, numbly realizing he had been tricked. He was McNally's target all along. After a moment's hesitation, he leapt towards the door. He hoped to get far enough to sound an alarm.

He never made it. McNally moved so fast, the older man could not react soon enough to even fire in defense. Now his back was to the wall, McNally's hand clutching his throat. The floor was six inches beneath his dangling feet.

"Roy! How much time!"

Hinderken, moving across the room, glanced at his fingernail timepiece before opening the door and checking the corridor. "I'll give it thirty seconds." He took from his shirt pocket a small communicator and keyed a five-digit code. "That's it! Communications will be affected immediately! Tactical, Life Support and Engineering won't last long. These folks will be too busy to give us much trouble!"

"Hear that, Stevens? We're shutting down your ship!" McNally shook the man, bouncing his head repeatedly against the wall. "Cranston's going to lose one of his boot jacks! It'll take days for your crew to locate and repair all the damage!"

Stevens looked at Hinderken in disbelief. "But how did you plant explosives without being detected? Our security—"

"Isn't designed to catch someone working on the inside," replied the young Lieutenant. "One of my duties was inspecting and maintaining all computer systems and their associated hardware. I've installed miniature, attack viruses in most of the computers throughout the ship. Took me months! They're acting in unison to reprogram every electronic device on this vessel. Systems can be restored, but not before certain devices are found and removed! Even so, everything will have to be reprogrammed starting with the basic utility functions! I left a few other little surprises too!"

"Not that it should matter to you," said McNally, returning Stevens to floor level. "I can make this quick and painless, or _very_ slow and _very painful_! First and _last_ chance—what are the Leviathan's coordinates?" He emphasized his request by grabbing a nerve cluster in Steven's neck, applying relentless pressure. Going pale with pain and fear, Stevens suddenly voided his bladder.

To avoid watching McNally work, Hinderken stepped into the hallway. He knew from experience that McNally disliked certain aspects of his job. But that did not stop him from being good at it. Muffled conversation and grunts drifted through the doorway. One final, distinct sound reached Saunders' ears, then McNally was in the corridor.

A few moment later, the lights went out. The darkness was as complete as the void without stars. The Hinderken donned a pair of infrared spectacles he drew from within his shirt. He knew McNally wouldn't need optical aids. They stood in the darkness, listening for sounds of approach.

"I know you didn't enjoy that," the young man's voice was just above a whisper.

"It was necessary. Of those onboard, Stevens alone knew the location. That also means he was the only one who could tell Cranston what we're after. I doubt he had time to reveal your secret to anyone else. My escape, as well as what we've learned, will remain a complete mystery to Cranston!"

"How...how did...you do it?"

McNally understood the reluctance behind his question. "Macabre curiosity?" They quietly moved down the corridor. "His neck—like I promised—quick and painless!"

They traveled through the darkness avoiding contact with crewmembers when possible. The crew's expectation that the loss of lighting was temporary quickly passed. But crewman that attempted to open lockers or compartments where emergency gear was stowed found all lids and latches jammed. Aimless confusion would rein until someone organized a party with hand tools to break or pry open locking devices.

At one corridor intersection, a security team all but blocked their passage. As Hinderken cautiously weaved between the confused and complaining men, one turned and blundered into McNally, who dispatched him with a silent blow. Minutes later, they entered one of numerous fighter hangars. Hinderken felt along the wall, energized the bay's lights. A six-man attack craft occupied one side of the hanger.

"This compartment is the last with power. One minute after we launch, it will be as dead as the rest of the ship!"

McNally smiled. "Sorry about letting him nip at you! I wanted him smug and confident...much easier to question!"

"So you say! I figure it was pay back for that plasma burn I gave you! But remember you're the one who insists on such realism. Let's find an aid kit—my ear's killing me!"

McNally chuckled while opening the craft's hatch. "Let's go get Claire and the Doctor before they begin to worry. Can you believe it? After fourteen months, all the manual labor is finally done. All that's left is the paperwork—then we get to take out the garbage!"

CHAPTER SEVEN: OLD MCNALLY'S FARM

Launching had been quick and uneventful. McNally started the engines while Hinderken evacuated the atmosphere and opened the launch doors. They knew it would be many hours before the Patrol realized the craft was missing.

Once clear of the ship, they accelerated, setting a course ninety-degrees from the Valiant's. "Just to start a false trail," McNally explained. "Besides, when we open the warp-hole, it doesn't matter which way we're heading. The destination is still just as near!"

The young officer asked repeated questions, wanting to know more about the new top-secret propulsion device—the series of additions and modifications he has made to this very same craft months earlier. His briefing had gone no further. Perhaps the new equipment was so classified there had not been time to decide who should be allowed to know of its existence? The young man chuckled.

"Want to share the joke?"

"Typical military mentality! I get yanked out of the best duty station I've pulled in three years, transferred from the Inner-system Navy _to a local Sector Patrol_ , then I'm given something so top-secret, that even though I got to install it, even _I_ don't know what it is! Now _you're_ in the picture!"

McNally adopted an exaggerated expression of pained shock. They had met on Hinderken's first assignment after the academy. While investigating military sabotage at a Martian outpost, McNally requested the assistance of a handsome, young Naval officer. By the time the mission was complete, Hinderken barely avoided matrimony and as it was, had to visit a hospital with a bad case of birdshot in his posterior. McNally figured the man still blamed him.

"You knew you were going deep-cover for a Company agent!"

"Imagine my surprise when I learned it was going to be none other than Randal McNally! What's the story? All you came for was the coordinates? Why a Patrol commander?"

"Simple! Stevens was the only one this far out who knew them! Plenty of others, but I hate doing things around civilians—gives The Company a bad name and all that! We also had to deal with the possibility Cranston's boys would figure out what we're really after. Cranston believes I'm investigating the disappearance of contract haulers and their loads. He's worried I'll discover his 'little' secret, given time. But Cranston doesn't know that's what we were after all along! Now it's too late! Ready to warp?"

Hinderken tensed. It gave him goose bumps thinking of what was about to occur, if he understood McNally's hurried explanations, not to mention such terms such as "warp-hole" and "jump." "You sure this is going to work?"

"Relax will you? Trust me, I've done this before!" McNally energized the converter that supplied the ship's weapons. With adjustments to the controls, he redirected the power to the distortion-field generator installed by Hinderken.

"The ship's computer tracks our location, we program where we want to be," said McNally as he keyed instructions. "I gave Louiston a very specific destination. Knowing the cruising speed of my ship, we can accurately judge the Starduster's location. We'll warp in front and let them come to us!" He activated the final circuit. "Watch this! History in the making!"

Hinderken concentrated on the brilliant star-field beyond the ship. There were whole regions of space ablaze with iridescent clouds of starlight. Abruptly, an immense, circular hole appeared in their path. Its blackness was absolute—star shine did not blur the edges or shine through the center. He barely had time to analyze the phenomenon when the craft flew directly through it. After a moment of darkness, the stars, minus the hole, reappeared.

Hinderken looked closer. There was something different. "I don't believe it! The fields have changed!" He recognized the star patterns that could only have been visible on a heading very different than the one they had been on moments before. He glanced at the control panel's readings; they confirmed what his mind found difficult to accept.

"I know how you feel! Hard to imagine we just instantaneously traveled five light-hours!" McNally adjusted the long-range scanners. "If you ever want to visit Mars, you can be there ten seconds after you kick this baby in gear!"

"Good Lord...it really works!"

"Tell me about it," replied McNally. "Let's save any questions until we're aboard my ship. Might as well let the others in on it too! We still need their help; your job will be elsewhere!"

As the man began to argue, the scanners chimed a contact. McNally brought the image to the view screen. His ship appeared—cruising before its awesome cargo, two thousand meters astern.

"They're about fifteen light-minutes distant. Over an hour away at their speed—our's added, thirty minutes." McNally opened a hailing circuit. "Hey Doc. You two okay over there?"

Almost immediately, the speaker carried the other man's voice. "McNally? Great heavens man! How did you get ahead of us!"

"Doc listen, power down and give the ship a rest! Lieutenant Hinderken and I will be docking within five minutes!" McNally terminated the channel in the middle of Louiston's questions. He grinned at the young officer as he increased ship's power.

"Shall we do it again?"

***

Louiston tried to understand how McNally expected to dock in so short a time when the proximity alarm signaled a contact. He looked up in time to see a Sector Patrol attack cruiser materialize in space and close with the Starduster.

Three minutes later, the docking was complete.

McNally expected questions, but the excited intensity surprised him. All talking at once, the others followed to the control room and surrounded him when he sat in the command chair. Hinderken wanted to know more about the warp drive, as did Louiston, who also worried about what was going on with this _Cranston_ thing. Claire simply wanted to understand why she was involved in all this at all.

McNally raised his hands as if to defend himself from the verbal onslaught. "Please folks, please! We're completely out of danger for now, so we can take some time to catch up on what we are all doing out here! But I think we should start over dinner. With food in your mouths, you'll be less likely to talk all at once!"

Louiston crossed his arms and looked impatient. "With everyone from Cranston to the Sector Patrol out to bag our cans, you can think of food?"

"It's not the food, good Doctor. It's where you eat it!"

He rose and motioned for the others to follow as he headed towards the engineering section. Soon McNally had opened the doorway to the small compartment where Louiston and Claire had hidden during the Patrol inspection. He touched something unseen on the back panel and a second doorway opened to a larger, well-lit room. When the others entered, McNally followed, securing the doors behind him. He then faced them and again gestured for silence.

"If we're ever going to get anywhere with this mission, every one of you are going to have to get over this 'golly gee' reaction to what you're about to see! Please bear with me and I'll try to bring you up to speed on what we're dealing with!"

McNally turned to Claire. "Miss Murphy, do you know how a ship's long-range scanners work?" Claire looked at Doc and the Lieutenant, bit her lip and shook her head.

"Nothing to be ashamed of! Roy here studied at the academy, Doc has a pilot's working knowledge. A hundred years before mankind reached the Oort cloud, astrophysicists and engineers were studying a newly discovered breed of sub-atomic particle."

"I never bothered to memorize all the names, what's important is that these mysterious particles appeared to travel at hundreds of times the speed-of-light, while remaining easily detectable. The truth, when discovered, was these gravitrinos pulsed with what can only be termed 'temporal energy' at a fantastic rate—and with each pulse, the particle 'warps' through space—over tremendous distances!

"The mathematics are confusing, but the brain-banks and super-computers back on Mars studied this phenomena extensively. One result was long-range scanners that could 'see' over fantastic distances by focusing and electronically interpreting the incoming waves of these warping particles.

"Another was "hyper' communications—'hitching' rides with waves of particles. Twenty years ago, a young scientist wondered what would happen if the waves were collected, funneled and focused in the _opposite_ direction. The 'warp hole' was born! The Company developed it, so of course the new drive was available to the Navy!"

Hinderken and Louiston remained silent. To Claire, the important question was obvious. "If a ship can jump to any set of coordinates, can it reach the stars?"

"We're already building a small fleet of 'System Searchers' to start the search for Earth-normal worlds! The first few ships are scheduled to launch by the end of the year! We don't want to go public with the news until we're ready. The colonization of the stars must be done in an orderly manner! We can't have every political splinter group, religious faction and corporation charging out into the galaxy on their own! In a thousand years, the resulting civilizations might well collide in frictions resulting in interstellar war!"

McNally moved to a wall and slid open a panel, revealing controls. He tapped the keys and a doorframe suddenly appeared in the wall. But there was no door.

"The warp-hole was developed with unbelievable ease. Conversion generator technology was ready to support and supply power for just such a concept. But the obvious beauty of this new toy went unnoticed until three years ago!

"Conversion generators power our computers, life support, ship's weapons systems _as well as the propulsion drive_! Why couldn't the warp-hole be used without the drive?"

Claire and the men all gasped when McNally, with a final touch, activated the doorway. Where the wall had been, a dark rectangle of emptiness appeared. Hinderken approached the door. "I'm afraid to ask where the other end of this thing...is."

McNally closed the control panel. "If any of you have fears about coping, I can administer a tranq-injection before we go further!"

When no one accepted the offer, McNally glanced at his timepiece. "A little early, but we can talk after we 'transmit' our message! Have you forgotten, Doc? This is where we present our evidence and get approval to finish what we've started!

"I have to confess, working for The Company has its advantages! Even though I left Mars in the Starduster two years ago, I've had the best assignment beyond the orbit of the Pluto! With a few exceptions, mostly lately, I've been home every night for dinner! If you visit my room on this ship, you'll find my bed all but unused." McNally turned and stepped through the hole.

After a second of nervous, Hinderken followed. Louiston smiled at Claire. She took his hand...he squeezed gently to reassure. A quick hug, and they stepped into the unknown.

***

Claire almost wished she had taken the tranquilizer. One moment they were aboard McNally's ship, the next found them exiting the pantry of a quaint, farmhouse kitchen. When Claire and Doc joined them, McNally deactivated the warp door. The interior of the pantry appeared when the blackness vanished.

"Susan!" called McNally. "Dear, I'm home!" Claire giggled at the absurdity of the situation until a beautiful woman in a flowered garden-dress entered the kitchen and ran to his side.

Susan smiled and lifted her face for his welcome-home kiss. Only then did she turn her attention to her guests. "Hello Roy, nice to see you again. Doctor Louiston, I'm pleased to meet you. You must be Claire Murphy. Randy has told me all about you!"

The two women were immediate friends. Claire tried to assist Susan as she fussed over her husband's burns, but the older woman moved with practiced skill. Claire was surprised to learn McNally had a wife, but when she found there were also three children—Randal Junior, six, Sarah, four and Stevie, one and a half—playing outside, she was stunned. McNally didn't act the type to settle on a farm with a big family.

The ladies went in search of the children. The others followed McNally to the living room and waited while he used the communication screen to place a call. When the link was complete, McNally waited after giving his name and access code. Soon an elderly man in Naval uniform appeared on the screen.

"Good evening, Admiral Legrand," he said. "The group is assembled and awaiting your pleasure! When can you be here?"

Shortly, McNally again activated the warp door. Admiral Legrand and two aids, both Captains, soon arrived.

The evening passed in a relaxed atmosphere. McNally grilled steaks while Claire helped Susan in bathing the children. Louiston worked the kitchen. Although it looked like something built hundreds of years earlier, the appliances proved as modern as any available.

Louiston served iced tea while the senior officers questioned all in turn. Doc found himself explaining his experiences regarding Cranston, Lieutenant Hinderken reported on corruption in the Sector's ranks and Claire told of her stepfather's business dealings and how her mother lost control of the family company long before her suspicious and untimely death.

By the time dinner was ready, Claire and the others had grown accustomed to the acute awareness that they were _on Mars_ , in New Georgia to be precise. Actually visiting McNally's fifty-acre farm, twenty miles south of Macon.

Louiston, born in New Florida, suspected McNally would have to be extremely wealthy to afford this much land in the country—on a world that was bursting at the seams with overpopulation. He closely observed the way McNally talked to the Admiral—as equals.

At the end of the meal, the men in uniform thanked all and departed via the warp-hole, their destination unknown except to McNally. Later, after the children were in bed, the McNally's joined the others on the front porch.

Over drinks, McNally had carefully explained his plans. "As you have probably figured out by now, my role as a Company agent investigating missing haulers and their loads was a cover for an even greater mission! For almost ten years, Cranston has been mobilizing a special workforce growing to twenty thousand—all occupied on a project surpassing the Pyramids, as well as any of mankind's marvels in its scope!

"Rumors hinted Cranston was inspired by a four-thousand-year-old vid-cast in which the villains built a spacecraft the size of a moon! The Leviathan isn't _that_ large, however it is the largest ship ever built—it's _twice_ the size of the Madeira Colony!"

"What does he plan to do with it?" asked Hinderken, sitting on the porch rail while he sipped his drink.

"We weren't sure for several years," replied McNally, sitting with Susan on the porch swing. "That's why The Company sent me, you and all those other advance agents out there. All that effort and work—and most of those men never saw a minute of action! Mostly information gatherers anyway."

Claire sat forward as she asked something that had been bothering her. "You told us how you got off the Donadio asteroid after you rescued me. You also said it had taken months to smuggle in and assemble that craft. I wasn't there then. How did you know you might need it on that asteroid?"

McNally chuckled and repositioned the arm laying on Susan's shoulders. "Nothing magic! Don't you remember why you went to work in your uncle's club?"

"Of course, he had convinced me it was a safe place..." Her eyes widened with understanding. "You put him up to that?"

"Guilty, ma'am! With Louiston, it was luck. One of the agents, George in fact, contacted me regarding a certain Doctor that was hiding on New Yak. You weren't aware Cranston's men were near. I'd heard of you, and I'd been looking for a hauler that had also been involved with the ten-load contract. Good thing the Starduster can warp too! Had I gotten there any later, Doc might have been gone!"

The double meaning was not lost on Louiston. He shivered at the memory. After weeks of hiding, trying to keep ahead of the killers that hunted him, Louiston had feared his time was over.

Claire climbed out of her chair and went to stand beside Doc. He looked tense. She rubbed his shoulder for comfort.

"It's over," she said as Louiston smiled, looking up into her eyes. She turned to McNally. "This is so much, so fast! Randal, who are you? Why are you involved in this? If...if I may ask." She was glad to see that the man remained calm at the personal questions.

"Actually, I'm a _very_ high-ranking executive with The Company. Being born out there in the cloud, so far from Mars, you may not appreciate just what _The Company_ is. A couple of thousand years ago it was called the Central Intelligence Agency—a covert tool belonging to the United States of America. I know...I know...ancient history! But nations and politics changed. When the World Government Council formed, just after World War VII, what remained of the U.S. slowly evolved, growing to become the Alliance of American Free States. Of course, all that was lost in the Great Disaster!

"The old bureaucracy, what remained of it off-world anyway, survived by merging with several large, off-planet corporations. The new organization worked with the remaining political structures, but existed outside and independent of them. Employees and agents for this growing empire jokingly referred to it as 'The Ultimate Company.' After two centuries, just 'The Company.' Our connections and power are most evident when we deal with the Inner-system Navy or ISDOT.

"I myself hold the rank of a Naval Field-Admiral. I earned it after many years with the fleet. Eight years ago I was transferred to a special project funded by both The Company and the Navy. You've experienced the warp-door and drive.

"After two years of undercover work, we know that Cranston has criminal activities planned for the Leviathan. With it he hopes to carve a new empire throughout the Oort cloud. He would build more super-ships and seek total control of the system! Cranston also plans to stop shipments to the planets. Eventually, hundreds of colonies would begin to die!

"That's why we need your help, Claire." She jumped at hearing her name. "Once your stepfather's gone, control of Cranston Incorporated reverts to you. Cooperation would be nice!" McNally smiled.

"But how can I help? What do you need?" She leaned closer to Louiston who had placed his arm around her waist.

"We want to lease the Leviathan. A vessel that size with warp capabilities could move mass-colonization ahead a hundred years! Imagine! A million people at a time, moved to a new world, rich in resources and ripe for its new population!

"Anyway, that's what we hope will happen. Won't know though until we warp out there. It may very well take quite a while to find some Earth-normal worlds. Did I mention your company, whatever you choose to name it, would be equal partner in all profits? Interested?"

Claire looked downward, deep in thought. When she lifted her eyes to meet McNally's, she had only one question. "What's going to happen to my stepfather?"

"Are you _kidding_? With the charges we have against him and some of his top men?" McNally sat forward, his gaze turning cold. "Don't worry, Claire. One way or another, he's history!"

***

Cranston's rage was terrible and deadly. He killed the messenger where he stood. The missing Patrol ship had been found—sans McNally. He was _gone_ , evidently aboard the missing fighter craft, something discovered only after most of the ship's power had been restored. Stevens being dead didn't help matters either. And what about the second officer—Lieutenant Hinderken? Where was he? With McNally? But _why_?

Cranston's vessels had searched the last known location of the Starduster. They found no debris or wreckage of the ship or trace of the load. Cranston was certain McNally was back aboard his vessel. Where would he appear next?

The desk speaker activated. The secretary announced Mister Burroughs' arrival. "Send him in," ordered Cranston, returning to his desk. He folded his hands and watched the tall, solemn man enter.

"Burroughs, do you know how much your bungling agitates me?"

"No. But I assume you're going to tell me." Burroughs dared to reveal a slight smile.

"Not exactly," sneered Cranston, pressing a button under the desktop.

Burroughs had just enough time for a moment of terror before his body vaporized—washed from existence by an array of wall-mounted lasers. Ashes settled to the plush carpet where the man had stood a fraction of a second before.

"You're fired!" Cranston shouted. Then he called in his secretary and did the same to her. Then her assistant.

Last, he issued an edict to find McNally—at all costs, or die. Cranston's network boiled with activity.

Edward Cranston doubted he would ever again know happiness. Why did this happen when he was so close to completing his greatest dream? Soon. Yes soon, nothing would resist his power. He would rule space, and his enemies on Mars would suffer.

CHAPTER EIGHT: BAGGING THE LEVIATHAN

Their visit lasted five days. McNally had assured Hinderken and Louiston repeatedly that the Starduster was in no danger. The ship's sensors were at maximum and would sound an alert should anything occur. He reminded them the ship was no farther than the pantry door.

The McNally farmhouse was large and full of guest space. The family used four bedrooms, but there were six others. Louiston's careful inspection revealed that visitors, often several, had occupied the rooms during the nights. To all, McNally extended the warmest hospitality.

Lieutenant Hinderken was given a room next-door to Randal Junior. Claire and Louiston chose quarters at the other end of the long hall, their doorways opposite each other. The rooms were large, containing bed, desk and entertainment center. Each contained its own bathroom.

Each morning, Susan provided clean towels. On the second day, she conceded the obvious and delivered two sets to Claire's room. Louiston and Claire spent each day together. Often, they were seen walking in the fields, or followed the wooded path leading down to the quiet, slow-moving river.

McNally and Hinderken used the warp-door often. They were never gone less than an hour, once for the entire morning. But each evening all gathered for dinner and discussed the day's activities. It was at this meal on the fourth evening that McNally announced their departure was to be the following day.

***

Upon returning to McNally's ship, Hinderken bid farewell to the others and departed aboard the Patrol craft. Once clear of the Starduster, the attack craft vanished as the warp-drive engaged.

Louiston assisted McNally in boosting the Starduster's idling engines. An hour later, tractor and load moved on the coordinates provided by Commander Stevens. McNally stayed busy programming tactical computers. Claire and Doc talked quietly in the background.

McNally had not shared all details concerning plans for the Leviathan. Louiston could not imagine how McNally or the Navy could hope to capture a heavily armed, well-defended vessel that was supposed to measure over fifty-kilometers in diameter.

"What about the weapons systems, McNally? The Leviathan must have gigantic conversion generators! They'll probably draw a bead on us while we're still a hundred-kilometers out!"

"You could be right...but why would we do something dumb like getting too close, when we can stand back and throw rocks? Ever hot-shot a load, Doc?"

Louiston was surprised. "I thought you wanted to use that ship! With a load this size, there won't be anything left!"

"That's true! We both realize that. So will the thousands of people aboard Cranston's monster ship! I'm counting on them immediately grasping the seriousness of the situation!"

Claire did not understand what they were talking about or why Doc was so disturbed. "Randal, Doc, what's a 'hot-shot?' Something to do with our load?"

McNally turned to Claire. "Oh yes indeed, Miss Murphy! In the early years of mining in the Oort cloud, the processing plants couldn't digest an entire mountain, so reduction centers, located in space near the plants, broke the Oort balls into small, easily handled chunks—the size of your average city block.

"These pieces were then hauled to the plants by small transfer-tractors. They would slowly guide the rock towards the gigantic material intakes leading to the reaction chambers, then cut their tractor beam. The cargo would drift onward to its destination."

Louiston joined the explanation. "Naturally competition involving speed and distance when releasing the loads were common, though strictly forbidden. Accidents occurred; an entire plant was lost once! Now can you guess what McNally plans?"

Claire tried to picture the result of a high-speed collision between a colony sized ship and a large body like the one towed behind their tractor. Imagination failed her.

"You must understand," said McNally, speaking slowly to make his point. "The only way to execute a complete capture is to present the crew with a situation they can't win—something they cannot possibly defend against! Any better ideas?"

***

The Starduster warped to within two light-minutes of the Leviathan. The engines were far from maximum power, but one-tenth light-speed was still a respectable glide that put impact at under twenty minutes. The Starduster would be detected immediately and the alarms sounded when they saw his maneuvers.

Satisfied with the ship's course and speed, McNally disengaged the tractor beam while banking and accelerating his ship. Four thousand-meters to starboard, the load slid past, continuing towards its target.

In the control room, Louiston turned the view screen to its highest resolution. The mammoth vessel hung in space looking invincible and mighty. Clouds of vapor exhausted from thousands of vents—a sure sign of extensive workings beneath the crust. Lights, large and small, dotted the asteroid, illuminating the structures that sprawled across its surface. The three stared at the image in awe. Despite Cranston's intentions, this accomplishment was indeed worthy of wonder.

McNally explained the Leviathan could defend the attack from half the Inner-system Navy, but the billions of tons of approaching rock would prove unstoppable. When it came, the impact explosion joined by the energy released from the destruction of a hundred fusion reactors promised the birth of a new star—bright, but short-lived.

There was no surprise when the evacuation began less than five minutes later. Louiston guessed it would be close—with an estimated compliment of twenty thousand, many of the crew would still be aboard when McNally's load struck.

The fleeing ships were visible as they launched from hundreds of hangars. Cargo freighters and messenger ships, Sector Patrol vessels and maintenance crafts climbed away, leaving the doomed Leviathan to its fate. After fifteen minutes, vessels still continued to depart.

When the ships cleared the Leviathan, they turned towards the nearest outpost, thirty hours distant. With impact only moments away, three Naval squadrons, guided by Lieutenant Hinderken, exited warp in the path of the fleeing ships. There was little resistance as the warships ordered all to disengage their engines.

Claire held her breath as they watched the load streak towards the Leviathan. Unexpectedly, McNally's trick was revealed. Ten thousand-meters from its target, the asteroid disappeared—swallowed by a warp-hole twenty kilometers wide.

Louiston howled in laughter as McNally slumped in his chair, exhaling loudly. Claire, elated and amazed with their success, cheered.

The celebration soon ended and McNally changed course, away from the Leviathan. He gazed at the stars for several long moments before turning to Louiston and Claire. "All that's left is Cranston. We might as well put him out of his misery. Right about now, he's realizing he never had a chance."

CHAPTER NINE: TIDY ENDINGS

The Starduster's speed slowed to a lazy drift. As McNally briefed them, Louiston and Claire watched the Leviathan in the rear scanners. The Navy's arrival at such short range had eliminated any chance of escape. Monitoring the active communication channels, they listened while the military assault force boarded the giant vessel and manned the control centers.

Cranston's masterpiece now belonged to the United Inner-system Navy...and The Company. All prisoners would be processed and returned to their homes, or jail. Others might even be contracted to crew the colossal colony ship, under new management.

McNally's instructions went on for hours. Claire wasn't happy with all of them, but she realized McNally's greatest concern was their safety.

"Just because my job _looks_ dangerous doesn't mean it is," exclaimed McNally, pacing as he lectured. "Everything you two have seen was carefully planned. Even when Hinderken fired on me, I was in no real danger—my force shield absorbed most of the energy. I only go into these situations because the technology protects me.

"The implanted circuits that control my weapons, shields and other devices are powered by three miniature biological conversion generators. That's something most people don't even dream exists! Company agents are too valuable to risk foolishly; we use any and all resources available for protection or advantage!"

"Yeah, I've noticed you like to take people by surprise," replied Doc. "Did the Navy block transmissions, or does Cranston know?"

"I'm counting on it! As if his day hasn't been bad enough, imagine his reaction when we drop in. Literally! Now go suit-up. Remember what I showed you—it's _not_ that hard." This was directed at Louiston, who during McNally's briefing had jokingly complained that his and Claire's part in the plan appeared to be the most difficult.

McNally opened a hidden weapons-locker. Reaching inside, he called over his shoulder. "Let me know when you're ready! Unless you hear otherwise, we warp in ten!"

***

Edward Cranston stood looking out his office window and seethed with confusion and rage. He struggled to comprehend the prospect that his glorious designs, his plans for power, had been destroyed in the ridiculously short period of an hour. Outside, shuttle cars cruised past the Cranston Corporate Headquarters as children played in the large park across the street. But he saw none of this. His stare, unfocused and distant, centered on his future. After a decade, it was over, and he had not even been aware of the crisis.

Earlier that morning, he received the items taken from McNally during the Patrol's raid. The Valiant finally regained power and made rendezvous with a company craft. Technicians tested the force screen and wrist weapons and found them safe to handle.

The devices now lay atop Cranston's desk. He had been examining them when the alarming news arrived. Messages from multiple sources all told him the same story—the impending destruction of the Leviathan and the resulting mass evacuation. The final reports, before all transmissions ceased, involved the mysterious appearance of _hundreds_ of Naval warships.

Somehow he knew Randal McNally was involved—the weapon used against the Leviathan had not been a coincidence. If the Navy was also out here in force, Cranston's time was indeed short.

He was about to return to his desk when a seven-hundred-meter long space-tractor miraculously appeared from nowhere, flying low above the park. Landing struts slowly extended. Before they were completely lowered, the craft settled on the ground.

Cranston stood frozen at the window, his white-knuckled hands trembling and gripping the sill before him. He watched the ship come to rest, its weight causing depressions where the struts pressed into the lawn. The impossible situation did not confuse Cranston—he knew who had come, and what he wanted.

"McNally! So now you come for me?" He turned towards his desk and communication console. Did the man expect to walk into the building unchallenged? "You'll find I'm not easy prey!"

***

When the ship landed, Louiston and Claire were already waiting on the loading platform. It lowered them to the ground and Claire took the lead, lumbering towards the Cranston building, Louiston following unhurriedly. They wanted to give the citizens plenty of time to evacuate the park before gunplay began. The armor suits they wore stood four meters tall, and according to McNally, weighed over ten tons each. Claire had commented it felt more like riding than wearing.

Powerful motors and gyroscopes make walking possible. The steel plating and force-shields made the wearer indestructible to anything less than a thermonuclear blast. McNally had sworn the suits were the most secure place in the sector—each boasting sufficient armament to destroy most of the Madeira Colony. Their role was to draw as many of the defense forces their way as possible. Let Cranston Security waste its ammunition on decoys.

The first squad of armed guards appeared before Claire reached the park's edge. She could hear the weapons only because the exterior microphones were on. Although her shield absorbed most of the beams and projectiles, an occasional wild shot or ricochet would whistle astray. As planned, the citizens using the park had quickly fled for shelter.

"Look down the road," said Louiston over the suit radio. "The colony police want to play too!" Claire turned to see approaching troop vehicles.

"Doesn't matter," she replied. "If Randal is right, and he has been so far, our biggest worry is falling asleep from boredom! These things almost run themselves!"

Louiston agreed as he continued forward, returning fire with rapid-pulse stun-beams while also launching a barrage of miniature missiles at the building before them.

Armored blast doors lowered to cover the main entrance when they drew near. Claire keyed for additional computer assistance and joined Louiston, their suits' mechanical arms grasping the barriers and pushing inward. With her assistance the doors soon shattered, utterly destroyed before the combined might of the lumbering juggernauts. Claire imagined the outside commotion to be deafening. Together they moved through the building, spewing fire and wreaking havoc, their shields gleaming with absorbed energy.

Claire laughed despite the maelstrom surrounding her. She now understood Susan's comment when asked if she ever worried about McNally and his job. She replied she sometimes thought The Company dreamed up new toys just so Randal could use them in the field. But he never used anything that didn't perform well, nor did he place the lives of others at risk.

***

By the time the ship landed on autopilot, McNally had already cleared the park and was cautiously entering a side door to Cranston's building. He dropped from the low flying Starduster during the final approach, as the ship briefly passed behind a group of trees.

Besides startling a mother and her small child as they watched the ship land, McNally had reached the headquarters without attracting unwanted attention. There were people inside, but McNally was dressed in their manner, and he walked with a purpose. Few here knew of his existence, and none had ever seen him.

He decided against risking the confines of an elevator and started up the first stairway he encountered. This proved tricky as employees were using the stairs to hurriedly exit the floors above. At the second flight, McNally paused and listened to the first sporadic bursts of weapons fire. He smiled to himself as he continued upward—Louiston and Claire would bring every security officer and Patrol soldier in the colony to full alert. And all Claire and Louiston had to do was stand there and look menacing.

They would have to remain in their suits until the Navy arrived, of course. Otherwise someone would probably lynch them. When they tore down the main entrance blast doors, the foundations shook and plaster flakes rained down from the ceiling.

McNally reached the end of the stairs and quietly slipped into the top floor offices. The few remaining people paid no attention to him as he walked down the hall, pausing outside the main chambers. He passed through the secretary's office and found Cranston sitting behind his desk.

He looked tired, barely glancing up as McNally entered. "I was going to use these," he gestured to McNally's devices on the desk. "When the fighting started, it occurred to me. Why bother? There's nothing left...

"The Company finally beat me—my wife always said you would. First the Leviathan, then my company! Nothing of my accomplishments will remain!" Cranston removed his hands from beneath the desk. In one, he held a pistol.

"No, you're wrong," said McNally, stepping further into the office. "Claire will take control, the corporation will do fine!"

"Ah well, at least it stays in the family," he chuckled sadly.

McNally watched the defeated man closely. "The Leviathan wasn't destroyed, as you believe. The asteroid was only a ruse to evacuate the vessel!"

Cranston looked up in surprise and slowly smiled in earnest. "Thank you, I should have realized."

"You should also know the ship will be used as the flagship transport to colonize the stars! In years to come, the Leviathan may very well be remembered as mankind's greatest achievement!"

"Then some good will come from it in spite of me." Cranston sat in silence for long moments. He at last lifted his head and again looked at McNally. "They should never have done away with the death penalty, you know...as ancient and barbaric as it was! Of course, a life sentence on a Martian penal colony is completely beyond consideration, as you can imagine. You understand don't you?"

McNally nodded and left Cranston's office. He waited outside until the shot sounded, then re-entered to examine the body. There were cases where people had been known to miss.

***

With the exception of the building's main entrance, most of the damage had been minor and easily repaired. McNally and a dozen Naval officers occupied several of the larger offices while they helped Claire assume control of the company. The employee consensus was one of puzzled surprise and great relief when Miss Murphy announced her stepfather's sudden, unexpected retirement.

Three days after the one-ship invasion, Claire and Louiston again visited the McNally farm. The mood was carefree as they enjoyed dinner while discussing what was to come.

Later in the evening, they relaxed on the porch. The summer night was alive with sound. Insects buzzed at the screens while night birds called in exotic song. Occasionally, some distant unidentified animal would voice a cry or primal howl. Claire and Susan sat listening and intermittently commenting on this or that while Randal and Louiston discussed nothing of importance.

McNally risked the mood by turning serious. "Come on, Doc! You're busting up a good team! Are you sure you won't come work for The Company?"

"Why? To go on assignments that last several years? Sorry, Randal, that's just not what I want to do for a living!" He refused to discuss it further, despite Randal's nagging insistence.

Claire quickly came to Doc's rescue. "You folks might as well know...Doc and I are going to run my family's company. With the advent of our 'colonization connection,' I thought we should build a new headquarters here on Mars. But Mister stick-in-the-mud insists it would be better to operate in the cloud. We're going to wait until _after_ the wedding to fight it out!" Louiston reached and took her hand, raising it to his lips and planting a gentle kiss there. She smiled grandly.

Susan squealed and hugged Claire in delight.

McNally cheered heartily and shook Doc's hand while pounding him on the back. "I have the perfect gift! Build here _and_ keep the Madeira office! The Company will supply the warp-doors! We're partners, right?"

###

THOCKMORTON TERRITORY

My friend! Welcome to Thockmorton Territory! You are a most welcome and special guest, make no mistake of that. So, while you are here, take a chair. Make yourself comfortable...take off your shoes...mi casa su casa! If you'd like a beer, there's a few in the frig. They belong to Wife, but I'm sure she will not mind if one or two turn up missing. Isn't English wonderful? "Turn up missing." What a stupid cow...or is the phrase I'm looking for about a moronic ox?

First, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.

What for, you ask?

For taking a chance and purchasing this ebook! You have no idea just how much that means to me...but of course I will try to find just the right words to thank you. For as we begin this new friendship, there is one thing you should know about me. I believe it is _very_ important we start our exchange of ideas and emotions with one simple truth—I have never intended, nor do I ever plan to make a living as a writer.

No please, do not laugh! I am well aware that the Internet contains hundreds of personal websites with indie authors bragging about how much money they've made, or are making, or planning to make. I have no issue with this, nor will you ever see or hear me say an unkind word concerning any other writer. Those with the drive and passion (not to mention the sheer number of ideas) to write hundreds of short stories, or dozens of novels have my full respect. Even should their stories lack appeal (Why was the banana embarrassed? It lacked appeal! Get it? Har!) to a majority of readers. Many niche writers seem to do quite well!

Writing is hard work. Well, not _all_ writing...I have over 35-years experience as a technical writer, and my work first appeared in print over 40-years ago. But I have always made my living doing other things; speculative writing, for me, has always been a hobby. For, like many, I enjoy _having_ _written_ much more than the actual _writing_ itself. As John Irving once quipped, "I'm not much of a writer, but I'm a hell of a rewriter!"

My _oldest_ hobby is, of course, reading. The first three books I ever read were _Black Beauty_ , _My Side of the Mountain_ and _The Gammage Cup_. But most dear to me when I was a small child were comic books. Some of my first memories were of sitting in my mother's lap while she read me issues of Blackhawk, Wonder Woman, Batman, Superman, Hopalong Cassidy and Superboy. Oh, and Tarzan! Those old Jesse Marsh issues of Tarzan of the Apes are some of the most prized books in my collection! She even read me Jack Kirby's Challengers of the Unknown when they first appeared in Showcase!

Please allow _me_ to brag for a moment. A year or so ago, I was trolling Ebay for nice issues of Modern Comics when an absolutely beautiful copy of Modern Comics #67 caught my attention. If you'd like a moment to go find this issue on the web, be my guest. I recommend MyComicShop, Lonestar Comics' site. It's the issue with Bart (isn't that a nice name?) raising his left arm, and the hawk landing on said arm. The issue on Ebay had some significant spine-roll, but was still very nice. This was the cover (as I remember) that Jim Steranko used when mentioning Blackhawk in his _History of Comics_ circa 1967 or '68.

I'm not going to tell you how much I paid for it, but it wasn't really _that_ much. When it arrived, I was so very careful not to drool on it. First, I opened the comic and pressed it flat in my paten press (time and heat are my secret). Then I carefully refolded it and pressed it two more times, flipping it after cooling from the first press. Next, off to PGX it went! You should have seen the size of the box they returned it in! And wrapped in about a twenty feet of bubble-wrap! Gotta love them!

When Wife and I opened the box, we were stunned...it came back with a 9.0! Wow! Now... _here's_ the _brag_ : last time I checked, not only is it the _highest graded_ issue of Modern Comics #67 in existence, but... _but_...it is the _only copy of that issue ever professionally graded_! Ha! Top _that_ Donald Trump!

Enough bragging...let's talk about "The Last Load."

I can hear some of you screaming "But Bart (cool name, huh!) you ripped off both Ironman and "Stargate" (the television show)! Ironman, when McNally climbed into that one-man ship in the AGRI-compartment, and wasn't there an episode of "Stargate" where they took an asteroid heading for Earth and warped it to the other side of our home world, thus preventing a collision?"

Nope...not even close! You see, I wrote "The Last Load" in 1992. End of argument! Besides, the way Tony Stark (in the movies) dons his suit is hardly the way Tony Stark (in the old comic books) donned his! A good example of the way Tony carried around his armor in his attaché case can be found in Tales of Suspense #81 (1966, I believe). His suit folded up as thin as toilet tissue and got sucked into all these little slits in the case! The armor didn't take on rigid properties until polarized by electrical current supplied by his torso unit! Which he had to wear because magnets in the chest plate kept a piece of shrapnel from working its way into his heart. Don't take my word for it...go look for yourself! I have no idea about today's comics...really haven't read many since...oh, say, 1994 or so. Jeez, we're talking about _comic books_ here! Think I'm mental or something?

But weren't those old stories so _cool_? _TOS_ #81 started the three or four issue story-arc where Ironman fought the Titanium Man right there in Washington, D.C. Even the art was kick-ass! Those were the issues where Gene Colon was using his real name, and not "Adam Austin." But the Adam Austin issues of Ironman in _TOS_ and the Submariner stories over in _Tales to Astonish_ are some of my all-time favorites! And the Captain America stories in those issues of _TOS_ were the ones with the Red Skull wielding the awesome _cosmic cube_! Where have we seen that combo recently?

Anyway, the Stargate stories utilized "hyperdrive" technology. Remember how they used to show the ships traveling through hyperspace? The warp-holes used in my story involve instantaneous travel between two points...not the same thing at all.

But I digress.

My writing has always been and will remain a form of catharsis...my feeble attempt at artistic expression. Sometimes, sentences, paragraphs and entire pages are a titanic struggle to say something, _someway_ never before seen. Before I went into the Royal Navy, I painted. Never was much good at it, but it made me happy...it brought me joy.

I hope in some way this tale has brightened your day. I read in a blog recently where this young lady proclaimed her writing fit into the incredibly small niche she called "pleasant sci-fi." She mentioned how dark science fiction had become. Dark and moody. I'll have to take her word for it...the only sci-fi I've read in the last few years is the work of John Varley--a giant amongst giants.

My list of the five greatest books ever written in the English-language:

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Weaveworld by Clive Barker

The World According to Garp by John Irving

Steel Beach by John Varley

The Golden Globe by John Varley

Oh, and Matt Smith is the best Doctor! Ever! "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang" are the best two-hours of television in the history of the boob tube! Yeah, baby!

I could ramble on for hours, but I'm going to save my aimless musing for my next work: a ten thousand-word short story entitled "Throwing Snowballs at Xanadu." It should be up a few days after this. It is set approximately two, maybe three years after this yarn, and follows the adventures of Roy Hinderken and his wife, Betty.

Oh, before I forget, if you email me pointing out a typo, or something you consider a lapse in continuity, I'll send you a coupon for a free story. Keep your eyes peeled, if you can stand the pain!

Last, but very far from least, I would like to thank the following folks:

Dean Wesley Smith—I first learned of Smashwords on his website!

Kristine Rusch—for the valuable reminder that there are indeed people smarter and more intelligent than me!

Joe Konrath—just for _being_! But stop cursing, it's immature!

Amanda Hocking—for showing all of us just how it's done!

and the magnificent Passive Guy—a true lifesaver in a sea of turbulence and confusion!

And _you_ , my new friend. Here's hoping I've managed to entertained you for a short time, and that you will come to visit again! Soon!

My dogs call. Adieu!

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