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7: Jump Shock

Among other evils which being unarmed brings you, it causes you to be despised.

—Niccolo Machiavelli

 

In the two days before the Khanate ships found them, Jennifer had little to do but watch Terry, and talk to Pollyanna, and pray. The God of mankind was God of the Mote, too. She prayed for solutions that would bring peace to both kinds of mind.

When the Khanate ships approached, Jennifer looped Freddy's stored data on the Contraceptive-Longevity Worm. The Khanate Warriors found it running when they burst through the wall.

For a time they ignored it. Two Engineers, four Watchmakers, and a Warrior searched once for booby traps, then in leisurely fashion for anything of interest. A Mediator and a Master arrived, discussed, examined. Cerberus's cabin was again infested with Moties.

The Mediator listened to the recording Victoria had made, the notice in trade Koine that the ship was salvage but that Medina Alliance would pay well for Jennifer and Terry. The Mediator turned to the Master and spoke. The Master spoke curtly. Both ignored the humans.

The Warrior went away. The Mediator examined Pollyanna without waking her, then took position in front of a monitor recently worked over by an Engineer. Watchmakers scurried about like big, helpful, curious spiders.

Over the next several hours Cerberus changed again. A pity Freddy couldn't see this. The Khanate found his drive, Hecate's drive, pushing too light a load. They added a truss to hold cargo, riddled with the drive to get yet more thrust, added nets of spheroids, as if Cerberus had sprouted clusters of tremendous grapes. More cargo . . . and weaponry? Jennifer couldn't tell. Terry would have known, but Terry wasn't talking.

Terry dozed most of the time. Something would get his attention: Jennifer caressing his neck or ear, or a Watchmaker running across his back. His eyes would open; maybe he would smile, maybe he would drink some water or broth, speak a few words, and presently go back to sleep. He wasn't keeping good track of events. Jennifer had to keep her own counsel.

Help would come. Jennifer waited.

Inside, the Moties were at work. This time there was no stopping them. Their interest was in the screens, cameras, computers, communications. They didn't touch the air system. Perhaps the Tartar Engineers had sufficiently altered that.

Pollyanna woke. She and the Khanate Mediator chattered as they watched the monitor.

The Master came back with a Doctor and another Engineer. Pollyanna jumped to her at once and began to nurse.

The Khanate's Doctor was distinctly different from Dr. Doolittle, smaller, frail seeming. She did little to disturb Terry, though she examined Jennifer in detail.

Pollyanna, well fed now, returned to Jennifer's shoulder and stayed there while she chatted with the Khanate Mediator. Her toes clutched Jennifer's shoulder now, while her arms waved in flamboyant gestures. The adult's answers were more concise, a flip of the wrist, right elbows rapping each other: how the hell would a human copy that? Jennifer tried to concentrate. An infant Mediator was teaching a mature one to speak Anglic! The recording would be fantastically valuable, but it would miss things, nuances . . . that head-and-shoulder tilt, "not quite" . . .

Terry stirred, and Jennifer looked into his eyes. Was sense returning to him?

And everything went blurry.

 

Jennifer recovered slowly. It struck her that if she were Terry Kakumi, and uninjured, she could take the ship from these wailing, kicking Moties. But lack of sleep had done Jennifer in, and the Moties were already gathering themselves. She moved hand over hand to the telescope controls.

Cerberus had jumped, of course. The Frankenstein's monster of a spacecraft was nearly the first through to MGC-R-31. Ships were pouring through aft, accelerating, sweeping past Cerberus and leaving it behind, a crippled hybrid. Cerberus limped behind the Warrior fleet at about one Mote gravity. The drive flames of a thousand small ships retreated ahead.

And the Mediator spoke to Jennifer for the first time. "You are Jennifer Banda? Call me Harlequin. I serve the Master Falkenberg." She must have seen Jennifer's reaction—Oh, really?—but she did not try to temper the arrogance of her claim. "We must discuss your future."

"Surely yours, too," Jennifer said.

"Yes. You are ours now. If all goes best, we break free from the Empire to seek our own stars. You and Terry Kakumi with us. When finally we must confront the Empire, you or your children must speak for us."

It was hardly the future Jennifer would have chosen. But the Mediator was speaking: "Barriers wait before us. Where will the next bridging point lead us? What stands to block us?"

"The Empire of Man," Jennifer said. Terry smiled, barely, and she saw bright glints: his eyes were open.

"Detail," the Mediator said. "We find one tremendous ship and several much smaller."

"There'll be more. We got the jump on you. More ships will be coming through from New Cal, any hour. You don't know what you're facing. This is the Empire."

 

When Jennifer Banda was six years old, the Navy had declassified certain holo recordings. The whole school assembled to watch them.

That was twelve years after the Empire fleet had assembled off New Washington before the final Jump to New Chicago, a world that had seceded from the Empire and renamed itself Freedom. That world had been restored to the Empire, its name restored, too. There had been battles, but what Jennifer remembered was the massed might of the Empire of Man, ships the size of islands passing at meteor speeds and higher.

No Motie Mediator could see all that in her eyes. Still, Harlequin would see nothing to deny what Jennifer believed: that the power that held a thousand worlds in its gripping hand was coming down the Khanate's throat.

Harlequin said, "If we could reach the new bridging point in time—"

"You'd find our battleships just the other side. You felt the Jump shock. And they'll be waiting."

"I will show you what we plan."

Warrior and Engineer and Mediator huddled, and Pollyanna with them. On Cerberus's screens the gory details of an Engineer's autopsy were replaced with . . . something astronomical. The colors were poor, but this was MGC-R-31, there the little red star, there the blue sparks of Warriors retreating well ahead of Cerberus, there a lozenge next to concentric circles: undoubtedly Agamemnon and the Jump to New Gal. And there, popping out of the other target area aft: more ships, bigger.

"The Masters come before it was intended," Harlequin said. "Never mind. What waits beyond"—she indicated the outward target—"this?"

"Classified," Terry said.

"Oh, good! Terry, how are you feeling?"

"I might live. Won't like it at first. Thanks for staying."

"Oh, no! How could I leave you?"

"Don't tell them details. Sleep now," Terry said, and closed his eyes.

Jennifer nodded. She'd expected him to speak earlier.

Harlequin said, "What system lies beyond the bridge? There must be other bridges."

"I'm going to stop talking now," Jennifer said.

"Not a problem." Harlequin pointed at the cluster of large ships aft. "I will tell you. Twenty Master ships have come through. Our Warriors will prepare the way through to the Empire. There must be bridges to other stars. We seek the one that departs the Empire. So do you, Jennifer, for my life and yours, and to save the lives of any in our path."

"You shouldn't be running from the Crazy Eddie Worm," Jennifer said. "You can surrender. Don't you understand, you don't have to die!"

The Warrior made a sound, and Harlequin turned. On the Masters.

* * *

Something big was crawling across Renner's chest. A monkey . . . or a big spider, injured, missing limbs. "Ali Baba is sick," it said. "His Excellency is sick. So is, am I. Sick in the head, concussion, scrambled brains and wobbly eyes. Kevin?"

"It'll be all right." Renner hugged the little Mediator. Craning his head around made him dizzy and sicker. "Just wait, it'll get better."

Bury was on his back, toes pointing slightly apart, hands apart and palms upward. Yoga corpse position: he was calming himself the only way he knew how.

The screens were blurred. A voice was shouting from the background, shouting for the Captain. I'm too damned old for this.

Renner popped his restraint belts. "Townsend?" His balance was still screwy. He pulled himself around to where he could see Bury's monitors. The medic array had turned itself off at the Jump. Now it was running a self-test loop. But here came Cynthia, moving quickly on hands and knees. She crouched above Bury and began a medical inspection, pulse, tongue, eyes. . . .

"Townsend!"

"Here."

"What's—" Renner couldn't say it properly.

"Atropos on line. We can receive."

But no transmissions yet. Renner slapped at the keys. The screens were still dark, but a voice was saying, "Sinbad this is Atropos. Sinbad this is Atropos. Over."

Renner stretched experimentally. Integral e to the x dx is e to the x . . . He'd found that the computers recovered quicker than he did. Should be safe enough to test now. He woke the communications computers. A snarl of static. "Atropos, this is Sinbad."

"Sinbad, stand by."

"Rawlins here."

"Status report?" Kevin croaked.

"Critical. We're under attack by half a dozen ships. One of them's a big mother. Sir."

Green lights showed on one corner of Renner's control board. "Freddy! She's waking up, see if you can see anything."

"Right."

"We're recovering," Renner said. "How bad is it?"

Rawlins: "We're peaking in green. I won't last forever, and I can't shoot back. No chance to send a message to Agamemnon."

Renner shook his head. Critical. Can't shoot back. Why can't he shoot back? Energy. Energy control. More green lights on his console.

Bury's machinery started suddenly: displays hunting, then drips to adjust his chemical balance.

The Mediators were thrashing feebly.

A screen came to light. Then another.

"Rawlins," Renner said. His voice was still thick. "Hang in there. We're going past."

"Here's a battle picture. I'll relay as long as I can."

The enemy fleet was a scattering of black dots across MGC-R-31's orange-white glare, visibly receding with Sinbad's velocity. They'd positioned themselves well, Renner thought. Just sunward of the Sister, to foul an intruder's sensors; near enough to blast them at point-blank.

Atropos was glowing far brighter than the little sun. Nothing smaller than Atropos would have survived this long, without Atropos itself as shield. Too few Medina ships were adrift behind Atropos, firing around the shield, easing back. When Atropos went, they'd go, too.

It was going to be tricky. The Moties aboard were no use at all. Sinbad's computers were Navy quality, three independent systems, each working the same test problems until they all got the same answers—and they weren't getting them.

"Townsend!"

"Sir?"

"Get the Flinger going! Hit that Motie fleet. Especially the big ship."

"Will do. Launcher self-check. In order. Erecting." The Field blinked for a second as the loops of the linear accelerator eased up through the black energy shell. "Launcher outside Field. I'm getting direct camera information. Trajectory analysis—"

Sinbad was flashing past the battle. They had almost no time.

"Trajectory computers give divergent answers!" Freddy shouted. "Rape it. Launching. Stand by!"

Sinbad recoiled. Then again. "On the way. Automatic loaders are working," Freddy said.

A muted keening sound had to be coming from Glenda Ruth.

"Stand by," Freddy said. "On the way. Dispersion pattern. Continuous fire, stand by!"

There was a floodlight glare from every screen, then all screens went dark. "They hit us. That's it for the cameras," Freddy said. "Captain, the Flinger's dry. We'd have to bring it in to reload."

"Never mind."

Bury was trying to crawl up Kevin's ankle with just one hand. "Bring it in. Kevin, bring it in!"

"Okay, I'm doing it. Lie still, Horace." Unseen, the loops of the Flinger were sinking through the Field into the hull.

"Superconductor," Bury said.

"Ah." Sinbad's flinger was a linear accelerator made with Motie superconductor. That was why it hadn't melted in the glare of Khanate lasers. If it wasn't withdrawn, it would conduct the energy of the laser attack into Sinbad.

"We're still getting relays from Atropos," Renner said. The relays would be progressively out of date as Sinbad moved away from the battle. "And I've got a camera on-line."

Someone, human or Motie, made a strangling sound. Glenda Ruth wailed again. The black beyond the windows began to glow dull red.

An image formed on Renner's screen, a composite of the relay and direct observation. It showed a cluster of Motie ships receding as Sinbad moved past the battle. Beams reached from three smaller Motie ships toward Sinbad. Six others held Atropos pinned like a bug. One of the Motie ships attacking the Imperial cruiser was nearly as large as Atropos.

"Blue field," Renner muttered. Give him another five minutes. Then he's gone and so are we.

"Five. Four," Freddy counted. "Three. Two. One. Zero. Maybe the timer's off. Or the trig—"

Something flashed intolerably bright beyond the larger Motie ship. The larger Motie ship went from green to bright blue, expanding. Another flash. Another. The blue shaded toward violet.

"Jesus, Horace," Renner muttered. "Fifty megatons? More? How long have we had those aboard?"

"You would not . . ." Bury's voice was weak but held a note of ironic triumph. "You would not have approved. At what those cost I nearly did not approve myself."

"It's working!" Joyce shouted. "They're not attacking Atropos anymore. They're—"

She fell silent. Two of the Motie ships flashed violet and beyond and were gone. The largest ship was now glowing blue-white, and Atropos was firing at it. "He can't last," Joyce said.

The big Motie ship flashed and vanished. Now a score of bright dots clustered around the fading glow that was Atropos and accelerated toward the remaining Tartar ships.

"Sinbad, this is Atropos."

"Go ahead, Commander."

"Well done, sir. We've won this battle," Rawlins said. "The Moties can clean up the rest of their blockade fleet. Sir, there was no opportunity to contact Agamemnon. I suggest you do that."

"Right. Carry on, Rawlins. Townsend!"

"Here."

"Find Agamemnon. Send that message."

"On it."

* * *

"You fight like vermin," Harlequin said with contempt.

Jennifer flinched at the insult, then wondered at its meaning. But the Mediator had kicked himself aft without giving her a chance to reply. Now the Moties huddled, chattering, and Jennifer turned back to the display.

There had been a battle. Ships had died. It looked as if the intruders had won.

Harlequin was back, with the Warrior hovering behind her. "I apologize," the Motie said. "I understand now. You throw away resources like vermin, but it is not that you are animals. You have endless resources."

"If you win everything you want, your descendants will think the same way," Jennifer said.

"Yes. Our battle plan has changed, Jennifer. We no longer believe we can pass to New Gal."

"Surrender," Jennifer said. "Accept the Crazy Eddie Worm. No Motie need die because there are too many."

A wave dismissed the notion. "We have considered this. There are domains to be fought for, and we may yet win."

And Mediators speak for the Masters. "You can't win. The Empire has—you've seen the resources we have. This hasty little expedition. A civilian ship was enough to harm your war fleet and alter your plans, and you haven't seen what the Empire can do! Harlequin, talk to your Masters!"

"I have done so. You have none of your altered parasite. There is no time to test it, and your altered parasite might well be fiction." Harlequin might not even have seen her reaction. "In any case, our options are not ended. Your representatives have made agreements with our rivals. Medina Consortium, Pollyanna calls them. Very well, we need only conquer Medina and take their place. Then we will have a gripping hand on the vast resources offered by your Empire."

This at first seemed ludicrous to Jennifer. "All Moties look alike?"

"We must assume that you passed messages describing your situation, describing promises made to Medina Consortium, describing battle plans. But if we silence every human voice, and if we make our rivals extinct, who will tell your Masters which of us was Medina Consortium?"

Jennifer sensed that her answer would be taken very seriously; so, very seriously, she thought it through.

"What if you fail? One voice could destroy you all."

"Humans are conspicuous. They require their special life support systems. We will find you."

"What are you going to do?"

"It is done. Our Warriors will follow your human-built ships and destroy them. Others may remain on Medina's major carrier, but my Warrior adviser calls it a mere hydrogen snowball, conspicuous and slow, easy to capture."

She's crazy! But all Moties look different. It's no better than looking all alike. It could work, Jennifer thought. And Harlequin knows I believe it might work. Damn. "What of us?"

"We may have need of you."

"Of course." If the Khanate failed, she or Terry would convey surrender terms to the Empire. So, they would be the last to die. I have to think. There must be some way to convince them that this is madness. "Crazy Eddie."

Harlequin had not mastered the art of appearing to shrug, but her inflection conveyed the same sentiment. "As you say. These are Crazy Eddie times. But time is short, and if we seek this option, we must seek it now. We will speak later."

* * *

Freddy Townsend said, "Sir, I have some other ships in view. Interested?"

"No. Find Agamemnon."

"Waiting."

"Making coffee," Joyce said. "Strong, with hot milk?"

Freddy said, "If Agamemnon has shields up, I won't find it, period. What if we just beam your message at the Jump point?"

"Good, Freddy. Do that. Then keep trying."

"Aye, aye."

Lights dimmed. All of Sinbad's power was going into that one blip.

"Oh, Lord," Freddy said.

"Talk to me, Townsend."

"More ships under acceleration. Fusion drives, high acceleration. I count sixteen no more than five million klicks away, all with a redshift and no drift, and I don't know where they're aimed but it isn't at the Jump to New Cal."

Renner brought the images in closer.

"Kevin, what is it?" Joyce demanded.

"Not enough data."

"There's more," Freddy said. "A whole sparkling field of drive lights at maybe sixty million klicks, all of 'em between us and Agamemnon."

"They've cut us off," Joyce said.

"That they did," Freddy said. "Skipper, I've got four minutes integration on them now. They're showing a decreasing redshift and no drift."

"Thrust?"

"Close enough to three standard gee."

"Bound to be Warriors."

"All redshifted?" Joyce asked. "That means they're going away from us."

"Decreasing redshift," Freddy said. "Going away, but they're thrusting toward us. An airplane would be turning around, but you can't do that in vacuum."

Renner touched the intercom buttons. "Omar, have you been following this?"

"Yes, Commodore."

The Motie's voice conveyed weariness, confusion, and determination at the same time. Never off duty, Renner thought. "Watch. That group I just marked. That's the main body of the Khanate fleet. Best estimate is that their Warriors were going all out toward Agamemnon and the Jump point to New Cal until the Masters popped through."

"That is reasonable."

"Okay. But now the Masters are all moving away from the Sister, and the Warriors are slowing, probably coming back. What are they likely to think they're doing?"

"The Warriors are swarming back to defend the Masters from us. The Masters have many options. Their target may be a place of hiding, perhaps the comets around the brown dwarf star. They seem to have given up the Jump point out of the system. Something has convinced them that your defense at the Jump is too formidable."

"Jennifer," Freddy said. "She must have convinced them."

"Those bombs did not weaken her arguments," Omar said. "Whatever else you have done, you have shown that you are willing to expend resources."

"Resources to burn," Joyce said. "Which we quite literally—"

All the screens whited out. Kevin moved two dial displays, in haste. The screens dimmed to a scattering of laser-green points. Sinbad was under attack.

"Whatever. Now what's happening?" Renner mused. "Omar, that Warrior fleet is aimed right at us. Or at the gate back to the Mote system. Which is it?"

"Why not both?"

"Both."

Omar and Victoria conferred briefly. Then Omar said, "If we threaten the Khanate Masters, they will attack us, of course. But consider this. If they have abandoned the notion of forcing their way past Agamemnon, then the Khanate may have instructed their Warriors to return through the Sister to prepare a path of safety for their return to Mote system."

"They're giving up?" It was the first time Glenda Ruth had spoken since the battle.

"Perhaps." Omar shrugged. "Or they may attack Medina, to soften our power for later negotiation. Or something else. This is a matter for military strategy."

Victoria said, "They'll kill or capture the humans if they can. If your Empire has only the Khanate to negotiate with, any contract would favor the Khanate."

"Bet?"

Victoria answered in Motie. Glenda Ruth laughed as their speech became faster and faster. She said, "Uncle Kevin, they're betting! Descendants for their Masters! Victoria's giving four to one—"

"Later, Glenda Ruth. Omar, it looks like their whole fleet of Warriors is coming straight at us."

The cabin went dark. "I've found Agamemnon," Freddy reported. "I'm beaming your message again."

"Good. Very good. Now we've got to get out of here. Suggestions?"

No one answered. "Freddy, turn us around. Get us on course to go back through the"—hell—"through the Sister."

"Through the Sister. What thrust?"

Renner let the computer work for a moment. "That's a god-awful amount of radiation they're aiming at us. If it keeps up, we'll have to duck. What are they trying to do?"

"Kill us?" Freddy suggested.

"Well, if they can, but what else?" Renner studied the screens. If the Motie fleet continued on course, it would get to the Sister in about twenty-five hours. Another moment of indecision. Then, "Keep it reasonable. Say point three for now." The Field was dull red. Not bad, but they'd be bathed in that green laser glare for hours to come. "I want to see what those Warriors will do."

"What of our ships?" Omar asked.

"I'll keep Atropos," Renner said. "Have all your Motie ships reinforce Balasingham. Look, he's going to be a bit wary of them."

"We have discussed this," Omar said. "Our ships will position themselves to aid your warship without threatening it."

Horace Bury's voice trembled with exhaustion, but there was triumph, too. "Mercy of Allah! Kevin, we have sent our message to the Empire, and the Khanate has turned back. We have fulfilled our mission, whatever happens. Now we survive if Allah wills it."

"We may have fulfilled the mission," Kevin said. "It all depends on that Khanate Warrior fleet. We don't know what they're going to do, and as long as they're in this system, they're dangerous. They could still batter their way past Balasingham." Renner studied the screen again. "Well, as long as they're chasing us, they're not doing that. If they're back in Mote system, they're for sure not doing that. Maybe we can lead them there."

"Good," Bury said.

Kevin thought, Can you take another Jump? and didn't speak. What if he said no? "I'll tell Rawlins."

 

"My viewers may not understand," Joyce said. "I'm not sure I understand. First we come through to the red dwarf system. Then we fight. We win. Now for the past four hours we've been slowing down, and we're headed back the way we came." She looked at her screens, noted the yellow glow of the Field. Sinbad was under continuous attack.

"It's all part of the same battle," Freddy Townsend said.

"The important thing is that the Khanate fleet is moving toward the Sister, not going after Agamemnon," Glenda Ruth said. "We have to keep them heading toward us."

"But are they after us, or would they go back to the Mote anyway?"

"It doesn't matter, Joyce," Victoria said. "Anything that gets them back into the Mote system."

"So we're bait," Joyce said. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad—but to be bait when you don't even know it's you they're after!"

"They're after us," Freddy said.

"How can you be sure?" Joyce demanded.

"If they're not, they're sure wasting a lot of energy," Freddy said. "They can't spare the fuel. I think it's this way. If they can kill us, they won't go through, but if we run through, they'll follow us. Glenda Ruth?"

"Best bet," Glenda Ruth said.

Joyce said, "And there you have it."

 

"Situation unchanged, Commodore," Rawlins said. "They haven't tried to intercept the allied ships we sent to reinforce Balasingham. It's us they care about, all right, and there's too many to fight. Our only chance is to run. I suggest we increase acceleration. The less of this fire we take, the better chance we'll have once we're through."

"Agreed. Take it up to one point five gee."

"One point five, aye, aye." Rawlins's image turned away for a moment.

"Once we're stabilized in the Mote system, thrust along this vector," Renner said. There was a twitter of data. "And I had the Moties record some orders. You'll recover before we do. Send these messages to Base Six as soon as you can."

"Messages to Base Six. Aye, aye."

"Keep the comm link," Renner said. He sighed and touched the intercom buttons. "Stand by for increased gravity. One point five g." He touched another button. "Horace—"

"I will survive."

"Yeah. If they keep that beam on us too long—"

"Kevin, you will do what you must do."

 

Renner had been at work. Sailing Master aboard MacArthur, Bury's pilot for thirty years: this he could have done in his sleep. "Horace, can you take one point seven gee for eleven minutes?"

"Yes, of course, Kevin."

Of course. The danger to Bury wasn't from another increase in thrust, but from Jump shock. "Townsend, do it."

Ali Baba's eight kilograms hit him in the chest. The pup cried, "No, Kevin! Not again!"

"Here, Ali Baba," Bury said, and the Mediator went, fearfully.

Freddy said, "Aye, aye. Done. Any margin of error there?"

"We'll be violet when we go through the Eye."

Freddy shuddered.

The Engineers were up and crawling; the Mediators watched. Kevin bit back his questions and presently understood. The Moties had Cynthia's couch disassembled and were putting it back together next to Bury's water bed. That crowded Glenda Ruth, so they had to move her couch before they could return to their couches and collapse.

"Commodore? I've got the Master ships' target. It's the brown dwarf. Maybe they expect to take cover in the ring."

"Once they kill us."

Cynthia had finished her exercise set in the kitchen space. The view through the window was a uniform cheerful green.

* * *

On the enlarged screen that the Watchmakers had finished erecting, one blazing point reached the Sister and disappeared without exploding. Then the second. Jennifer heaved a great sigh of relief. "They're through," she said.

Terry squeezed her foot. She reached around to pat his cheek. "How are you doing?"

"Healing. You?"

"Just waiting. Harlequin's up front getting battle data. Should I really stop talking, or try to talk them into something?"

"Talk. They'll read you anyway."

But it was over an hour before Harlequin rejoined them. "The Sister hides your ships for the moment," he said. "We did not expect they could survive our barrage."

"That's another thing about resources," Jennifer said. "Our ships are bigger, better defended, more powerful."

Harlequin laughed in great amusement and some scorn: Freddy's laugh. Harlequin must have had it from Pollyanna. "Another thing about our breeding problem: our ships are more numerous by far! Jennifer, our intentions are not your concern. We will discuss strategy. These two ships—"

"I must stop listening—"

But the Mediator's big left palm was out, pause a minute, while the Warrior spoke.

They finished. Harlequin said, "Jennifer, we sent most of our Warriors to chase your two Empire ships down, under the command of our junior Master. Medina's lizard-raping Warriors managed to destroy that command ship as they passed, but our Warrior ships are nearly untouched. They will follow your Empire-built ships through the Sister to Mote system. They can't hide, Jennifer, their drives are too peculiar."

In fact, the blue sparks of the Warrior ships' drives were disappearing even as Harlequin spoke. Other, larger sparks had flown past: the Khanate Master ships were on their way to Bury's Star. "Where will your Masters hide?"

"In the rocks. Does it matter? We've given up hope of bursting through the other bridging point into your Empire. We must wait until our Warriors report success at the Mote."

"You intend to kill us all?"

"Yes. Your ships will have the advantage in the first instants because they will go through first and recover first from the shock. Unless humans tolerate the shock worse than we do?"

Jennifer laughed.

Harlequin frowned. "No? We watched you. You recovered very slowly."

"Harlequin, I'm half-dead of fatigue. Poor Terry's half-dead, period." An instant later she could have bitten her tongue off. Too late: Harlequin was leaping aft.

Terry's hand closed on the Motie's ankle and yanked him backward. Jennifer shrieked, "Kill him! Kill him, Terry!"

The Warrior was arrowing toward them.

Terry's arms closed around the Motie's head and shoulders. He twisted. "Dammit!" he muttered, and set himself and twisted much harder. The lopsided head turned with a pop like a branch breaking, and then the Warrior was wrapped around Terry like strangler vine, with his gun in Terry's ear.

Terry let go. Harlequin floated loose, still screaming thinly.

Under the Warrior's gun, they watched the Doctor pull and twist the Motie's head back into place. Harlequin's screaming died to a moan.

"No good," Terry said. "I forgot. No vertebrae, just that kind of handle that connects the skull to the shoulders. I only dislocated it, and the spinal cord isn't even in it, it's underneath. He'll talk."

"Jump shock. It hurts them much worse than it hurts us. They didn't know it."

"Yeah. But that was the last Warrior ship going through. I'm right, aren't I, Jennie?"

Jenny looked. "Yeah. Those other lights are all big Master ships, and they're all past the Sister."

"Hah. Slowed Harlequin down just enough. Now their whole Warrior fleet is in Mote system chasing down Sinbad and Atropos, and no Master to tell them different. Isn't that interesting? I wonder what a Navy man can do with that."

"We may not live to see it."

"Jenny, that took everything I had. If they decide to shoot me, don't bother to wake me." Terry's eyes closed.

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