The Reaches

battle. Vector lines careted six Venerian vessels moving in line ahead toward a gap in the Fed formation. A sidebar along the top of the display strung database close-ups of Captain Casson's Freedom and five similar vessels: spherical armed merchantmen, among the largest ships in the Venerian fleet.

The globe began to collapse on Casson's squadron like an amoeba ingesting prey. Four vessels from the Federation rear guard closed, maneuvering with surprising agility. Stephen frowned. Piet nodded, pleased that his friend had noticed. He touched another control. At the bottom of the display appeared an oddly angular vessel, a dodecahedron rather than a sphere.

'The Feds have brought four orbital monitors with them,' Piet said. 'The living conditions aboard on a voyage of this length must be indescribable, but-'

The monitors were designed for weightless conditions rather than to operate at most times with the apparent gravity of 1-g acceleration. Their decks were onionskins around a central core instead of perpendicular to the main thrust axis like those of spherical-plan long-voyage vessels.

For all their light frames and the discomfort of their crews, the monitors were dangerous opponents for Casson's self-surrounded squadron. The Fed vessels had many times the usual number of attitude jets to provide the agility Stephen watched on the display, and eleven of twelve facets mounted a powerful gun.

The remainder of the Venerian fleet swept down with unexpected coordination on the 'east' quadrant of the Federation globe. Feds closing on Casson turned to meet the new threat. Cracks opened in what had almost become a crushing vise. Casson's squadron eased out of the trap.

Stephen looked at Piet with a faint smile. 'Your idea?' he said. 'Organizing the rescue instead of letting it turn into a mare's nest as usual?'

Piet shrugged, almost hiding his own smile. 'I signaled-Guillermo signaled, of course-all vessels to conform to the Wrath's movements. There wasn't time to do more. . and somewhat to my surprise, most of the others did as I asked.'

He looked at Stephen and shrugged. 'We aren't as tightly disciplined as the Feds, Stephen.'

Stephen shrugged back. 'Tyranny has certain advantages in the strictly military sphere,' he said.

Piet's smile became broad and as hard as a gun muzzle. 'Tell that to the captain of the Savior Enthroned,' he said. 'You might get an argument.'

He returned the display to real-time images and pointed. Barges carried supplies and munitions from the Fed transports to the war vessels on the outer face of the globe.

'We can listen to their intership communications and know they're frightened,' Piet said quietly. Guillermo and Simms were absorbed in their work; no one else was close enough to overhear. 'Short transit series are a terrible strain. Metal doesn't craze the way our ceramic hulls do, but their seams are working badly and many of their ships have gunfire damage.'

He looked at the friend beside him and went on, 'Only sometimes I think-if we run out of ammunition before we break the Fed formation, what happens then?'

'Then you put us alongside them, one ship at a time,' Stephen said. 'And we board them. If that's what it takes.'

'The commander acknowledges your communication, Deputy Commander,' Guillermo said. The Molt raised his voice but didn't turn his triangular head lest he seem to be intruding his personality into a private conversation. 'He is relaying it to the remainder of the fleet for action.'

Stephen raised an eyebrow. Piet smiled with slight warmth. 'We're three transits from a junction that will carry us to within half an AU of Venus, sixty-five million kilometers,' he explained. 'The Feds will certainly attempt that route. If we calculate our speed and position correctly, though, we can prevent them from taking the third jump unless they're willing to turn their thrusters directly toward our guns at a few hundred meters range. I suggested such a plan to Commander Bruckshaw.'

'If they don't make that junction, then what?' Stephen asked.

Piet laughed. 'More of the same, my friend,' he said. 'At least until we run out of ammunition. Then we'll see.'

He preserved a light tone up to the final sentence. On the display beside him, the Fed formation looked as perfect as a poised axe.

ABOARD THE GALLANT SALLIE

October 2, Year 27

0813 hours, Venus time

Sal finished her calculations, finished checking the AI's calculations, really. The display reverted from alphanumeric to its previous setting: a view of the Federation globe and, fifty kilometers to one side, the straggling Venerian formation.

Sal lay back on the couch with a sigh. A circle of white light marked the Wrath, otherwise an indistinguishable dot at this scale.

'So, Captain. .' Brantling said from a seat at the attitude-control board. 'We're headed back for home, then?'

Sal scowled and for a moment continued to face the display. She realized that she had to tell her crew sometime, and they deserved better than the back of her head when she did so. She got up and faced her men. The whole crew was in the cabin.

'I've decided that we'll hold position with the fleet for a time,' she said as professionally as she could manage. 'Although we-'

The cheers of her crew interrupted her. Brantling clapped Harrigan on the shoulder and cried, 'Hey, I told you she had too much guts to run off when there was a fight coming!'

Kokalas clapped his hands with enthusiasm and said, 'We're going to pay them bastards back for Josselyn, we are.'

Nedderington, who'd learned everything he could from Godden when the gunner's mate was aboard, rose from the locker holding the Gallant Sallie's meager store of 10-cm rounds and opened the lid.

'No!' said Sal. 'No, we're not going in as a fighting ship. Christ's blood! we don't have but two hard suits aboard and one only fits me. All we're going to do is-'

Watch and pray.

'— render assistance to damaged vessels if necessary, and to carry out any other tasks the commander, the commanders may set us.'

'We'll be following the fleet's transits, Sal?' Tom Harrigan asked. 'Or. .'

'We've got the course plots, transmitted from the Venus and the Wrath both,' Sal said. 'We aren't. .' She paused, wondering how to phrase the description. 'We haven't been ordered to accompany the fleet, but we aren't acting against the commanders' wishes, either.'

'Captain?' Brantling said, pointing over Sal's shoulder.

She spun. The Federation globe was dissolving in sequential transit. The Wrath vanished, then a dozen more of the largest and best-crewed Venerian ships.

'Stand by to transit,' Sal said as she dropped back into the navigation console, engaging the AI. An orange border surrounded the display. Five seconds later, the Gallant Sallie-

Transit. Sal saw the cabin as a black-and-white negative, but that was only the construct her mind built of familiar surroundings to steady itself.

Starscape. The Gallant Sallie's display was set for real visuals, not icons representing the confronting fleets, but at the previous range there was little visible difference. Ships had been glimmers in starlight, varying by albedo rather than absolute size.

Now the fleets and the Gallant Sallie with them had closed considerably. In the fraction of a second after Sal's eyes adjusted to the sidereal universe again, she could see the Wrath as an object, blotched from previous damage. Two of the starboard gunports were open because the lids had jammed or were shattered by fire.

Transit. Sarah Blythe had made her first transit when she was two years old. The feeling had never really disturbed her the way she knew it did others.