the fiery red giant.
And beyond it, a folded place. A twist in reality’s fabric. A spot where you go, if you want to suddenly be very far away.
Although computer graphics were needed to make it out clearly, the transfer point was no invisible nonentity. Izmunuti bulged in its direction, sending ocher streamers toward the dimple in space.
“When will the psi-wave reach Izmunuti?”
“It has already arrived.”
Sara swallowed hard.
“Then show me estimated …” She dredged memory for words she had read, but seldom used. “Show me likely hyperdeflection curves, as the psi-wave hits the red giant. Emphasize meta-stable regions of … um, inverted energy storage, with potential for … uh, stimulated emission on those bands you were talking about.”
Sara’s face flickered as manicolored lines and curves reflected off her forehead and cheekbones.
Her eyes widened, briefly showing white all the way around the irises. She mouthed a single word, without managing to form a voice.
Then Sara clutched for a nearby pad of paper — no better than the premium stock her own father produced — and scrawled down two lines of coordinates.
Gillian Baskin answered her urgent call, though the older woman looked harassed and a little irked.
“Sage Koolhan, I really don’t have time—”
“Oh yes you do,” Sara told her sternly. “Meet me in your office in forty duras. You are definitely gonna want to hear this!”
Rety
A YOUNG WOMAN SAT IN A LOCKED ROOM, ALL alone in her universe, until someone knocked.
In fact she was not entirely alone — yee was with her. Moreover, the knock wasn’t at the door, but rapped loudly on the window below her feet. Still, the element of eerie surprise was there. Rety jumped back, scurrying away from the sound, which grew louder with each hammerlike stroke.
“it comes from over here!” yee wailed, pointing with his long neck.
Rety saw at once the pane he meant. A silhouetted figure squatted below the window, backlit by the golden haze surrounding her useless ship. The figure was distorted, distended, with a grossly bulbous head. An arm turned, holding a blunt object, and swung forward, striking the crystal once again.
This time, tiny cracks spread from the point of impact.
“enemy foe coming in!”
Visions of space monsters filled Rety, but not with fear. She wasn’t about to give up her domain to some invader — Jophur, robot, or whatever.
Another blow struck the same spot. Clearly it would take several more for the assailant to seriously damage the window. Emboldened to see what she was up against, Rety scooted toward the shadowy figure. After the next impact, she pressed close to the glass and peered outside.
Things were blurry at first. Then the creature seemed to notice her presence and leaned forward as well. Rety glimpsed what looked like a billowing dome of clear fabric. A makeshift helmet, she realized.
And within that protective bubble…
“Yah!” she cried out, twitching reflexively away, more set back than if she’d seen a monster or ghost.
When Rety went back for another look, the figure on the other side started making frantic gestures, pointing toward the side of the ship.
“Oh, yeah,” she sighed. “I did lock the airlock, didn’t I?”
Rety nodded vigorously so the visitor could see, and started scurrying along the canted walls to reach the jimmied door. Rety removed the pry bar she had slipped in place, to keep Chuchki from returning.
The airlock cycled slowly, giving Rety time to wonder if her eyes had deceived her. Perhaps this was just a ruse from some mind-reading creature, seeking to gain entrance by sifting her brain for images from her past.…
The inner door opened at last, and Dwer Koolhan tumbled through, tearing at the balloonlike covering he had been using as a crude life-support system. His face was rather blue by the time Rety helped him cut the taped fastenings, scavenged from material found on other decoy vessels during his long journey down the captive string. The young hunter gasped deep breaths while Rety stepped back and stared. Finally, he recovered enough to roll aside, lifting his head to meet her unbelieving gaze.
“I … should’ve known … it’d be you,” Dwer murmured in a resigned voice.
At the exact same moment, Rety muttered:
“Ifni! Ain’t I ever gonna be rid o’ you?”
Ewasx
HE MUST WEIGH TRADE-OFFS AND OPTIONS. As Izmunuti commences to roil with an atmospheric storm, our tactics stack declares that we have lost valuable time.
Three target swarms flee ahead of our majestic Polkjhy.
The first will enter the storm just as we catch up.
We will reach the second as it passes through maximum hyperbolic momentum change.
And the third?
It will make it to the transfer point, with time enough to jump into the next higher level of hyperspace.
The sabotage attack on our control room has thus created serious problems, out of proportion to the damage done to our CaptainLeader, whose incapacity should not last long. Meanwhile, however, tactics has come up with a plan.
WE SHALL JETTISON THE CAPTURE BOXES DRAGGING AT OUR WAKE.
They are now on course for Izmunuti. If the prey ship lies within one of the glowing traps, it must reveal itself soon, or risk immolation.
THUS FREED, OUR POLKJHY WILL ACCELERATE DIRECTLY FOR THE TRANSFER POINT!
In this manner we will be able to interpose ourselves between the prey ship and its escape path. There will be some backlash from such rapid maneuvering, but the result should be an end to all hope for the Earthlings, whichever swarm they are hiding in. Their subsequent activities should enable us to detect which ship is sapient- guided and which operate on mere automatic programs.
Hunt scents fill our bridge, eagerness for the approaching conclusion to this great endeavor. It will be most gratifying for Polkjhy to achieve conquest of the Earthlings without having to call for help from the great clan. To succeed where battle fleets have failed — this will be glorious!
BUT NOW TO OUR ASSIGNED TASK, MY RINGS!
There are vermin loose on our fine dreadnought. Our damaged/soot-stained bridge was dishonored in full view of the librarian/watcher.
The vermin must be found. I/we am the one called upon as qualified to give chase, by virtue of our/My experience with human types.
Our first recourse, My rings?
Collect the remaining human prisoner!
The one called Rann.
He will help us find his former colleagues. He is already so inclined.
REJOICE, MY RINGS!
In this way we will prove useful, avoiding disassembly. If successful, this master torus has been promised a fine reward.
Quiver in anticipation, My rings! As Polkjhy chases certain victory through space, we pursue another hunt within.
Emerson
