Part 1 (2/2)

”Why not?” Tarlac agreed. ”A few hours' delay won't matter, and as I recall, we're the closest s.h.i.+p.”

”Right, sir.” Willis turned her attention to her officers.

”Lieutenant Matthews, inform the Palace and Fleet HQ about the change in flight plan. Ask Fleet to have a morgue detail waiting when we get back to Luna Base. Ensign Olorun, bring us out of hypers.p.a.ce for the course change.”

Communications and Helm officers answered as one: ”Yes, sir.”

Transitioning out of hypers.p.a.ce was simple, even in the middle of a programmed course; Ensign Olorun flipped a switch on his Helm console, puncturing the hyperfield and bringing them to rest relative to what little matter was present in interstellar norms.p.a.ce.

The Navigator didn't need orders; he began plotting a course to the signal source as soon as the Lindner made her out-transition. With the s.h.i.+p-comp's aid, the calculations took less than a minute.

”Coordinates ready, Captain,” he reported.

Ensign Olorun was as efficient as his crewmate; as soon as Mueller gave him the final coordinates, he entered them into his own console and programmed the course. ”All green, sir,” he said.

Willis smiled. She, like the others aboard, had had to earn the privilege of serving on a Sovereign-cla.s.s cruiser, and having a Ranger aboard brought the crew to its maximum efficiency. ”Execute transition.”

”Aye, sir.”

At Olorun's words, everyone aboard felt the oddly pleasant twisting sensation as the hyperfield built up. The stars flared, then the screens went blank as the s.h.i.+p transitioned into hypers.p.a.ce.

Tarlac still found it moderately amusing that hypers.p.a.ce transition, once generally imagined to be at least uncomfortable and very possibly disabling, had proven to be anything but--to be the exact opposite, in fact. As a boy, he'd enjoyed daydreaming that he himself might make a discovery as unsettling as that particular one of Nannstein's, but so far he hadn't, and it didn't seem at all likely he would. On the other hand, it was just the unlikeliness of such a discovery--one that completely reversed a commonly-held idea--that made it so unsettling.

He grinned fleetingly to himself at the thought of how unlikely hyperflight, or even the Empire itself, must have seemed to an ordinary Terran back when Armstrong and Aldrin had made the first landing on Luna, but then he dismissed those unproductive if interesting ramblings. He had work to finish before the s.h.i.+p got back to Luna Base and he went on to Terra.

Five hours later, Tarlac was back on the bridge. He had no real reason to be there, but he enjoyed watching the ch.o.r.eographic precision of a Naval bridge crew, especially this one. He called on the Lindner every time he needed something with the power of a battle cruiser, and he praised her highly in the mock-serious arguments Rangers had with each other about the merits of their chosen s.h.i.+ps--even over the performance of such a simple maneuver as the retrieval of body-return containers.

Tarlac had often wondered about the puzzle those containers presented.

The Traiti had initiated the body exchanges, and n.o.body could even guess at the reason. There had been no communication, nothing except the sudden signal that led to cautious recovery of the first container.

It had been examined even more cautiously, but had proven as harmless as had all of the later pickups. There weren't many; s.p.a.ce battles left few recognizable bodies. Even ground battles left few, since hand-held blasters at full power or molecular disruptors literally vaporized unarmored targets, and if enough of them overloaded an armored target's screen generator, the resulting explosion had the same practical effect. Most of the recovered bodies were victims of accident or of the rare hand-to-hand combat.

The Ranger brought his attention back to the bridge as Olorun reported ten seconds until out-transition. ”Five credits says we're within fifteen klicks,” the young Helmsman added with a grin.

”You're on,” Tarlac laughed. ”Optimist!”

”We'll see, sir. Out-transitioning . . . now.”

There was a moment of silence as the s.h.i.+p re-entered norms.p.a.ce and stars appeared on the viewscreen, followed by murmurs of dismay.

Captain Willis slapped the General Quarters alarm, swearing briefly but bitterly. ”d.a.m.n! It was a trap!” The Traiti violation of something which had been sacrosanct was almost as shocking as the overwhelming number of the angular yet graceful Traiti s.h.i.+ps.

”When they set up an ambush,” Tarlac observed quietly, ”it's a good one. There's enough firepower out there to vaporize us three times over.”

”Yeah,” Willis agreed, equally quiet. ”Well, let's see how many of them we can take out with us.” She raised her voice, addressing her Weapons Officer. ”Lieutenant Dawes, concentrated primary fire on their flags.h.i.+p--”

”Hold it,” Tarlac interrupted. ”There's something peculiar here. If they'd wanted us dead, they could've opened fire as soon as we out-transitioned. Since they didn't, let's see if we can find out just what they do want.”

”Yes, sir,” Willis said. ”Hold your fire, Lieutenant, but be ready.”

”Aye, Captain.” Dawes was poised, tense, his fingers hovering almost in contact with his firing studs.

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