Not without misgivings, Calum lifted off once the settlers on the ground were well clear of the area. What would Rafik and Gill say to him if they knew he'd left Acorna alone, even briefly, in such circumstances? But there seemed little choice . . . and with any luck, they never -would know.

 

Acorna was not the least bit concerned for herself as Calum lifted off; she didn't have time for that. There were too many wet, muddy, disgruntled people to be helped into some semblance of organization, too many piles of hastily abandoned household goods which the owners had left with anxiety and a great many last-minute messages: "Mind and keep all my things together and don't let that Auntie Nagah be poking around in them. ... Be ^re they stow those datacubes of mine somewhere safe and dry, that's the only library on all Rushima. . . . Now be sure and keep that table upside down, see, one of the legs falls off if you pick it up the other way, but 'er's a good table and solid."

 

Solid " 'er" certainly was; Acorna had to enlist the help of Flouse and Kass to get it carried as far as the soggy bank. "Leave it there," Flouse said. "I'll ask one of the dryland settlements to send a motodray-all ours are fair ruined with this wet, see?" He wiped his sweating forehead. "Blest if I know how old Labrish ever got it that far, and him half-crippled with the rheumatics."

 

Acorna rubbed the small of her back in rueful agreement. Although strong, she was already tired from carrying most of the children to the ship. But they seemed calmer in her arms than in anybody else's, even their parents'.

 

One of the parents was sitting, at the water's edge, uncaring of the mud that smeared the cuffs other coveralls, crying quietly. The woman's tears ran in an unending stream down her face to join the silty water of the acres-wide shallow "lake."

 

Acorna recognized the young mother who'd protested against her children being taken off without her.

 

"They will be all right," she said quietly, sitting down beside the grief-stricken woman without regard for her own clothes. "I promise you that. And very soon Calum will come back for more people, and you will be with them again, in a nice dry place where you can get them clean and they can sleep dry and warm; won't that be better?"

 

"They'll be frightened without me!"

 

"But you'11 be with them very soon," Acorna repeated, "and in the meantime . . . they do have your own elders from this settlement to watch them, and Calum himself is very good with children."

 

The young woman sniffled. "Doesn't look like a man who'd have much patience with their little ways."

 

"Looks are deceiving," Acorna said with a smile. "Calum raised me from infancy, and he is much more patient than he seems.

 

"You? Garn!" The woman looked up and down Acorna's tall body. "He ain't hardly old enough!"

 

"Looks," Acorna repeated, "are deceiving." She did not add that it was her appearance, not Calum s, which was deceptive; the settlers had accepted her strange looks with surprising equanimity. She did not wish to remind them of her alien nature by explaining that she came of a race which could apparently grow to physical maturity in just four years.

 

By personally promising to see that the young woman was taken on the very next shipload, and talking in a low, soothing voice, Acorna got her somewhat calmed down; and that calm seemed magically to spread through the crowd. This was shattered as the roar of a ship's engines filled the air and all but drowned out the voices of those on the ground.

 

"Oh, good," Acorna said cheerfully, "see, here's the Accu)ecki back already. ..." But it didn't sound like her own dear ship; in fact, it didn't sound quite right for any ship she had ever heard. It came down much too quickly, and the roar stopped too abruptly, and she had barely glimpsed a flash of gold and scarlet before it landed with a hiss of escaping heat that turned the shallow lake bed to a wall of steam clouds.

 

As the clouds cleared, Acorna saw a craft not dissimilar in shape to the U-class starships of Delszaki Li's fleet, but ornamented with gaudy scrollwork of scarlet-and-gilt ribbon shapes that curved about the hull. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. How did they do that? No decorative paint could survive repeated searing journeys through a planet's atmosphere ... no paint known to humanity, she thought with a flash of panic, and suddenly the ship seemed utterly and completely alien.

 

Around her there were sudden cries of fear, and the young mother beside her leapt to her feet with the evident intention of running away. Acorna jumped up, too, if only to keep the girl with her; if these people ran in panic, this frail young woman and many others might slip and be trampled . . . who were these new arrivals? They could only be the Linyaan . . . her people.

 

My peoples-alien, alien, alien-no, my own people. Her heart thudded irregularly, and the young mother pulled away from her with the strength of sudden, desperate panic. Acorna realized suddenly that she herself was contributing to the fear of the crowd. Perhaps if she could calm down and set an example . . .

 

"There is nothing to be afraid of," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She raised it slightly. "You don't know who is in that ship, but I know. These are more of my kind. You aren't afraid of me, are you? Well, then! They've come to help, not to hurt you."

 

As her commonsense words percolated through the crowd, the momentary danger of a panic-stricken flight passed. The settlers were still nervous, Acorna could feel that in the tense movements of their bodies and the way they stood poised on both feet as if ready to fight or flee; but they were listening to reason again.

 

If indeed it was reason ... she could not be sure that this alien ship held her own people, could she? And yet, beyond all reason, Acorna was sure of it, even before a hatchway too far up the side of the ship opened and let down a ladder whose treads were too steeply set for human legs, even before the eerie sensation of looking in a distant mirror came over her at the sight of tall, slender, silver-haired people slowly descending the ladder with their hands open in a sign of peace and the golden horns on their heads glittering in the Rushimese sunshine.

 

 

 

 

Ruthima - Unified Federation Date 334.05.25

 

There she is ... my 'Khornya . . . our 'Khornya!

 

 (We must tell her . . . them . . . now. It would be wrong to keep them in ignorance, Neeva, and there are surely enough of us here to prevent any panic.)

 

(Let me greet my 'Khornya first. Can we not have this one moment in peace without being reminded of. . . )

 

Acorna had a confused image of something alien and terrifying, something like a metallic ant heap writhing with hatred and destruction.

 

(As you will. But she must be told soon.)

 

They were within speaking distance now, lifting their long, elegant legs clear of the muddy water with each delicate step. Behind them, Acorna recognized Nadhari Kando, Delszaki Li's personal bodyguard. She had no energy left to try and figure out what Nadhari was doing here; all her attention was on the beings so like and yet unlike herself, who were so rudely discussing her to her face. Acorna couldn't figure out how she had heard them so clearly even when they were still quite some distance away, but it didn't really matter now.

 

"What is it you need to tell me?" she asked.

 

The tall woman in the lead blinked and said something in a rush of liquid, nasalized sounds that meant nothing to Acorna. She shook her head, feeling dull and stupid, and suddenly all too aware of the sweat that soaked her coveralls and the mud that ornamented them in soggy brown blotches.

 

(I thought you said she was old enough to speak "when Vaanye and Feriila took her on that trip, Neeva! What's the matter with her? Is she retarded, do you think?)

 

(Probably neglected. They -wouldn't know how to care for one of us.)

 

Well! In all her childish fantasies about finally meeting her own people, she'd never imagined anything like this! Acorna blew out an indignant "Whuff!" through her nostrils and lifted her head proudly, forgetting the mud on her coveralls and all her doubts about being acceptable to these Linyaari.

 

"There is nothing the matter with me," she said slowly and clearly, "except that I am afflicted with inconsiderate relatives. I used to imagine all sorts of things about the people of my race, but one thing I never thought of was that they would be rude. I am not retarded, and Calum and Gill and Rafik took better care of me than you can conceive, and I am proud to have been raised by them!"

 

Beside her, the young mother she'd befriended stirred uneasily.

 

"Whatcha talkin' about?" she demanded. "They ain't said nothing yet, 'cept that foreign gibble-gabble, and I don't think you understood that any more than I did!"

 

Acorna frowned, puzzled. It was true - she had not understood the only thing that had been spoken; and yet they had said those other things . . . hadn't they?

 

(Oh, my dear 'Khornya! Have you never heard mind-speech before?)

 

(Of course she hasn't, Neeva. Remember, barbarians raised her.)

 

(Don't pay any attention to Thariinye, my dear. He is incurably rude . . . hardly linyarii!)

 

The untranslatable word carried, in mind-speech, all its connotations of "real-people-like-us," "civilized," "sapient," and "ethical."

 

Acorna started to speak, then deliberately closed her lips and thought at the others.

 

(Perhaps ... I am not. .. linyarii.. . either. It is true ... I was raised by these people ... you call "barbarians"... AND I LOVE THEM!) she finished in a desperate unmodulated rush.

 

A woman standing behind the leader winced. (Do try and teach her not to SHOUT, Neeva.)

 

Then Neeva's arms were about Acorna, and she touched horn to horn, and with that contact came a flood of emotion not translatable into any words: joy, and mourning for the parents Acorna could not remember, and absolute, unconditional welcome.

 

(You are both linyarii and Liinyar, and you are ours,) Neeva thought with absolute conviction. (I am Neeva of the Renyilaaghe, visedhaanye ferilii of this expedition, and you are 'Khornya of the Renyilaaghe, my sister-child. Your parents were Feriila and Vaanye of the Renyilaaghe; you have Feriila's eyes.) And Neeva's clan memories surged into Acorna: a blue-green grassy world of rolling hills and bright streams. A tall man with eyes the deep silver of the shadowed grass, who smiled and tossed a laughing baby up in his arms; a sweet-faced woman whose silver eyes were the mirror of Acorna's own; feast days of flowers and singing, little furry animals that chattered in the trees. . . .)

 

"My dream!" exclaimed Acorna aloud.

 

Neeva drew back slightly, but still keeping both hands on Acorna's shoulders. "Your ... dream?" she asked in slightly nasal Basic.

 

It had been a treasured dream that sometimes came to Acorna in the drowsy moments between sleeping and waking, sometimes not for months at a time, sometimes two or three times in a single week. It was among her earliest memories, and it had been in her mind even before that, for Gill and Rafik had told her that as soon as she learned a few words of Basic she had occasionally wakened speaking of strangely colored skies and demanding angrily to know the name of an animal they had never heard of.

 

Haltingly, Acorna told Neeva of the fragments she retained from a dream that had always left her feeling safe and loved. "There was a garden where the grass was soft and almost blue, and someone held me up to see the singing-fuzzies in the trees. ..."

 

"No dream," said Neeva, and the silver pupils of her eyes narrowed to vertical lines. "That was a garden in the clan-house of the Renyilaaghe. Your father Vaanye used to take you to see the thiliiri in the trees there; he said you sang like a thiilir instead of crying like an ordinary youngling. And Feriila and I would chat while Vaanye played with you . . . don't you remember?"

 

Acorna shook her head, feeling her own pupils contract like Neeva's.

 

"No matter, no matter." Neeva rested her horn against Acorna's for a brief moment of infinitely reassuring contact. "You are ours, our memories are your memories, you will share them all as we do." Underneath the spoken words Acorna could hear a cry of grief and pity. (How could you survive so, all alone?)

 

(I was NOT alone,) she thought, and her own memories of Gill and Rafik and Calum flooded into Neeva's mind.

 

(I see,) said Neeva in a much-altered tone. (We had not expected there could be a bonding. . . .)

 

"Not a bonding, not like that," Acorna said, since Neeva's sense of bonding meant a physical, sensual tie. (They nurtured me, taking turns. .. .) She touched horns again with her aunt and let loose a myriad of scenes from being bathed as a small child in a small sink to her sampling all the plants in the 'ponies, to understanding "no," and then learning how to read and write, and how to do more important things like find rhenium where they didn't know it would be, and understanding equations and how to place bets to win. And, most of all, protecting her from those who thought her deformed. . . .

 

(Deformed?) And the others echoed the word, shocked. Especially the tallest, who stood slightly apart from the other two women. From that one, Acorna sensed masculinity and pride and something else. If that was what a grown Liinyar male looked like . . . well . . . Acorna forced her thoughts away from that area.

 

(Yes, deformed. They nearly took it off.)

 

(They nearly what?) All four Linyaari cringed, and the male actually put a quick hand up to his horn, as if protecting it from the very thought of such an action.

 

(So you see, I owe much to Gill, Rafik, and Calum. They never, ever left me alone.)                                  j

 

(Yes, my dear child, we will express our gratitude for their care of you in a substantial manner.) Neeva drew Acorna a little farther away from the clutch of settlers who were distinctly interested in what was going on.

 

"I ain't heard 'im say much at all," the young woman complained. "Just touchin' them horns together like stags back on Shenjemi. And they ain't neither of them stags."

 

Neeva beckoned to Khaari to join them in a three-point touching so that Khaari's personality could reduce the shock of what they had to impart to Acorna.

 

So it was that Acorna learned about the Khieevi and why her parents had needed to send her from their ship to prevent her capture. Both Linyaari cushioned her against the horrible scenes of torture that the Khieevi perpetrated on helpless Linyaari Acorna pitied the poor victims and understood why her parents had wanted to spare her from it and give her that one slim chance to live.

 

(We are also here to warn this quadrant of the galaxy that the Khieevi are on their way here,) Khaari said, nuzzling Acorna with her horn to reduce the shock that did, indeed, shudder its way through Acorna.

 

She broke their hold, looking about in shock at the poor bedraggled settlers.

 

(Be easy, Acorna) Khaari said sharply. (You are broadcasting fear, and they will sense it. Melireenya, help us dampen this. Thaari, you, too. As I said, help is on its way. This Rafik has called upon an army. . . .)

 

"Is that why Nadhari's here?" Acorna managed to peek over at the short woman who was standing in a parade-rest position, not seeming to look at anything, but, if Acorna knew the woman, and she did, seeing everything. Only what could Nadhan do, trained and intrepid as she was, against people who frightened the tall, elegant Linyaari?   (Several come. These people will be safe. But you must be in the safest place,) Neeva said, sliding one hand around Acorna's slim shoulders. (For -we must not lose you again. Come, into our ship.)

 

"No. I promised that I would stay here until the Aca^ecki comes to take another load away from here. And these are not the only ones that must be protected," Acorna said, backing away from her own people. "I can go nowhere until the entire planet is evacuated if the Khieevi things are coming this way."

 

"We can take zum in our ship," Neeva said, glancing over and doing a mental count of the heads she could see. "But not all."

 

"All, or I don't leave this planet."

 

(It is obvious she is linyarii,) Thariinye said in a bored tone. (Only females will support a lost cause.)

 

(Be still with such foolish talk, Thaari. We must get her to safety. And I do not think we will have much time.)

 

(The armies are coming. We know that.)

 

(But when? And soon enough?)

 

"I don't go without these people and as many others as we can find," Acorna said, and suddenly Nadhari Kando was beside her.

 

"That's telling them, Lady Lukia," said the bodyguard in her gravelly voice.

 

Meanwhile, Rafik had reached the Haven, fully expecting to see Acorna awaiting him. The first ship he spotted in the huge hangar bay of the Starfarer ship was the AcaSecki. He did not see the Linyaari ship. But his instrumentation had shown that the Linyaari ship had been far enough ahead of even his superfast Uhuru to have landed, collected Acorna, and been back before he could arrive. Calum was there, and Rafik charged angrily toward the one familiar face, only to stop and stand stock-still when he realized that the man next to Calum was familiar, too.

 

"Johnny Greene, what in the name of misbegotten imps, djinni, and Shaitans are you doing here?" But he thumped Johnny on the back with more enthusiasm, Calum thought, than he had ever displayed on being reunited with his old mining partners. "Is Acorna on the bridge? Where's that fancy ship of the Linyaari? I know they made it to Rushima ahead of me."

 

"We expect them at any moment, Rafik," Calum said absently. He was absorbed in counting the other old friends who were even now disembarking from the Uhuru. Judit, Pal, Gill. . .

 

"Mercy? " he inquired hopefully.

 

"She felt it was her duty to stay •with Mr. Li. He wasn't looking so good-oh, nothing to worry about," Rafik said. "We've been in touch with Maganos; he was in bed for a few days but he's okay now, and anyway Uncle Hafiz is with him. Apparently he decided to raise the shield and"-he gestured helplessly-"it's rather a lot to explain. Now where's Acorna? "

 

"On Rushima."

 

"You left her alone? On Rushima?" Rafik's coffee brown face faded to a dingy gray.

 

Calum gave Rafik a dirty look. "I'm sure you would have arranged everything much better if you'd been the one to get kidnapped by Palomellese space pirates. Forgive me, all I managed to do was rescue us"-actually Markel should have gotten the credit for that, but Calum was past being reasonable-"help recapture the Haven, and work out the mathematics needed for Dr. Hoa to reverse the weather devastation on Rushima. She's needed there now to help with relocating the settlers to high ground, and so am I. I just stopped to get a working party of kids off this ship."

 

He had the slight satisfaction of seeing Rafik's eyes widen.

 

"Like you said," Calum added in an offhand tone, "it's rather a lot to explain. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get on with the relocation. We have to have all these people on high ground or off the planet before Dr. Hoa can start. ..."

 

"Forget the high ground," Rafik said in a strangled voice. "A different planet is exactly what we need for them. Maybe a whole different system."

 

It was Calum s turn to goggle. Quickly Rafik filled him in on the threatened invasion which had brought both the Uharu and the Linyaari to Rushima.

 

The corn unit on Johnny Greene's belt squawked suddenly.

 

"Armed force approaching. ..."

 

"That'll be the Red Bracelets," Rafik said, and added, "I hope. . . ."

 

On their -way to the bridge he sketched the situation for Calum and Johnny, who relayed the information to the Haven's young crew so that no further explanations were needed when they reached that area. Full-screen displays gave a view of nine approaching ships: a dreadnought, flanked by two battle cruisers and six destroyers, all of whom were capable of carrying light fighters within as the fleet now angled down to the same plane as the Haven's position.

 

Rafik gave a sigh of relief. "Yes, they're our people ... so to speak. We've bought them for this engagement-that is, Delszaki and Uncle Hafiz together have."

 

Calum s eyes widened. "The entire Red Bracelet fleet? How are you-we-going to pay for that?"

 

"That's all of your friend's fleet?" the kid in charge of the displays snapped over his shoulder. "Then who're these guys?"

 

The scene altered, and, although the screen s magnification had not been changed, it was obvious that another triangle of nine ships-of a. design Rafik had never seen before-was also closing fast on this same position.

 

"The Khieevi?" Calum asked.

 

"Must be," Rafik said. "I got a-well, a picture in my head from Neeva, she's Acorna s mother s sister. ..."

 

Her aunt...

 

"I think they've got a different kinship structure. She calls herself mother-sib to Acorna, and the feeling I get is that it's more like a second mother than an aunt."

 

"What the hell difference does that make with the design of the Khieevi ships?"

 

"None, but that's them," Rafik said, pointing. "And they're still far away, because close-up, Melireenya says the smallest of them is twice the size of the Haven."

 

Calum swore with great verve and imagination, impressing Markel.

 

"And Acorna s on Rushima "with those things coming after her? Why didn't it occur to any of you great thinkers to mention this little invasion when you were sending that joyous let'sreunite-the-family spurt-message? "

 

Calum s scathing glance swept over Rafik and his companions. Gill turned red, Pal stared straight ahead, and Judit dropped her eyes.

 

"Rafik thought we shouldn't risk starting a panic among the Rushimese," Gill mumbled.

 

"It was your idea, actually," Rafik said.

 

"Whatever! Anyway, we all know now; and what are we going to do to protect those people from what's coming at them?"

 

"First step," said Calum, "is to get Acorna and the Linyaari up here, find out what exactly they know about these Khieevi. These mind-pictures you're talking about can't be any substitute for a good discussion of strategy and tactics. And as soon as the Red Bracelets are within range, we need to get their head honcho in on the talks. You stay here and work on opening communications with the Kilumbembese, Johnny; I've got to collect Acorna."

 

"I'm coming with you," said Pal in a tone that brooked no argument.

 

When the Aca^ecki returned to settle in the extensive but shallow mud puddle that the Haven had created from a hectare of lowlying fields. Pal was first out of the hatch. He stopped in midstride, shocked by the appearance of the gaudy scarlet-and-gold ship that sat a short distance away, and even more shocked by the sight of the Linyaari envoys scattered through the crowd of Rushimese settlers. Actually it wasn't that so much that bothered him; it was the fact that Acorna was neither with the four envoys nor alone. The tall, overbearing young male who'd been arrested by a security guard on Maganos was by her side, bending over her with an attentive expression that made Pal want to deck him. Behind them stood Nadhari Kando, apparently relaxed . . . until one noticed that she was lightly balanced on the balls of her feet, hands free, eyes constantly scanning the space around Acorna for possible threats.

 

"Look at that oversize . . . stallion," Pal muttered to Calum in tones of disgust, as the other man joined him. "Making time with my girl while we've got an emergency on our hands!"

 

"I don't think she's your girl now. Pal," Calum said sadly. "I don't think she's any of ours, now."

 

"Yeah, but-"

 

"Save it for later," Calum advised him. "For now, help me figure out how we're going to get Acorna and the others up to the Haven without being mobbed by the Rushimese."

 

Pal hadn't served as Oelszaki Li's personal assistant for years without learning how to keep a poker face and, more important, how to spin a convincing lie on the spur of the moment. As he moved through the crowd, grinning and repeating his tale about a purely temporary glitch in the resettlement and the need to get help from these aliens in preparing adequate facilities for all the waiting settlers, Calum could almost believe it himself. Certainly none of the Rushimese questioned Pal's story, though Calum thought he saw a quizzical look on the face of Joshua Flouse-a man who, as settlement leader, had undoubtedly had his own experience with making up plausible tales.

 

Even Pal, though, could not keep the whole group of settlers calm without the help of the Linyaari. That became evident as he began, like a good sheep dog, cutting out the aliens and neatly herding them out of the crowd and back to the AcaSecki. He had to get them one at a time, and as each one left, ripples of unease stirred through the crowd, only settling when the remaining Linyaari spaced themselves out more evenly in the mass of humans.

 

Acorna was reluctant to come with Pal, but he explained that they needed information from the Linyaari, and that she, as the only person who could communicate with them telepathically and who was also familiar with Basic Interlingua, might be needed to make sure that they understood the Linyaari information about the Khieevi correctly. She and Thariinye were the last but one of the Linyaari to come aboard, followed by Nadhari Kando, who was taking quite seriously her orders to guard Acorna at all times; only Neeva remained with the Rushimese.

 

"She's not coming," Pal reported.

 

"Oh, yes, she is!" Calum started down the steps, prepared to bring the Linyaari Envoy Extraordinary to safety by force if necessary, but Acorna caught his arm. "Calum, one of us must remain here," she said in an urgent undertone. "If I am truly needed to interpret-"

 

"You are," Pal said in a firm tone that brooked no argument.

 

"Then one of the envoys must stay." Her pupils narrowed. "I wish it were not Neeva . . . but we Linyaari cannot all leave."

 

"I don't see why!" How quickly she had identified herself with them: "we Linyaari" indeed!

 

"Yuu would not," drawled Thariinye. "We haff skills yuu know nothinn of... anny one of us cann keep these beings calm in ways yuu do not unnerstan. Eeven little 'Khornya could do it!" He put his arm around Acorna's shoulders and patted her arm patronizingly.

 

"It is true, Calum," Acorna said. "They . . . we . . . can put forth an aura of peace and calm that will keep the settlers from panicking. But if we all go, and the AccSecki as well, they will surely think we are abandoning them."

 

Calum thought grimly that this might well be true, unless the Linyaari and the humans on board the Haven could come up with some way to protect an entire continent full of far-flung, scattered settlements from imminent invasion. Right now, he'd kill for the secret to Uncle Hafiz's planetary shield. But with the only man capable of installing it and making it work buried six feet under on some distant planet, the Rushimese -and anybody else on the surface of Rushima-were dangerously, potentially fatally, exposed.

 

But he did not wish to say this to Acorna, nor to confess that his own immediate objective was to get her to the relative safety of the Haven. Rushima was virtually without defenses, and the AcaSecki didn't have top-flight weaponry and defenses owing to his and Acorna's eagerness in leaving before the retrofit of the weapon systems was complete.

 

He began to forgive Rafik for his reticence about the Khieevi invasion. It was not the sort of news one wished to broadcast to an already unhappy crowd.

 

Nor did he care much, himself, for the idea of abandoning the Rushimese to their fate. He would bring Acorna and the Linyaari back to the Haven, but after that he would be free to use the AcaSecki up to the last minute in ferrying the Rushimese . . . •where? The Haven could hardly provide space, let alone life support, for all the farmers in this and other settlements. Perhaps there were caves where the people could hide.

 

He would worry about it later, Calum decided, as he broke all records and several safety regs in his eagerness to blast away from Rushima and get Acorna to safety.. . and, as a minor objective, to get her out from between Pal and Thariinye, who had strapped in on opposite sides of her with the evident intention of glaring at one another and exchanging barely veiled insults all the way back.

 

Fortunately, it took only a matter of minutes to reach the Haven and dock, and once on board, Calum discovered that a solution to the problem of the Rushimese settlers had already been found ... if the Red Bracelets would go along with it. Already a harsh Kilumbembese voice crackled from the spurt decoder.

 

"Admiral Ikwaskwan to Haven, regarding your requestDenied. My men came to fight the enemy, not to baby-sit civilians. It is not in our contract to perform transport services for these . . . farmers!"

 

Rafik spoke into the recorder. "With respect, Admiral, we believe you will find that Section 19, Subsection iii, Paragraph (b) of your contract requires you to operate under my direct command in all matters not specifically military. I do hope we can resolve this matter amicably; penalties for forfeiture are explicit and ... ah ... rather steep. I fear my uncle is not at all of a forgiving nature in such matters." He hit the code and transmit buttons and sat back with a sigh as the response was compressed for spurt to the lead ship of the Red Bracelets.

 

Seconds later, another transmission was received, this time accompanied by vid. Ikwaskwan s harsh, high-boned face stared out from a gray background slashed by a single curving red line. "We shall reach Rushima orbiting range within the hour, at which time we will discuss this in person," he snapped. The screen went blank with no parting formalities from Ikwaskwan.

 

"Dear, dear," Gill said, "seems the -wee mannie is just a tad annoyed with us, Rafik. You had better take me along for this personal discussion he wants."

 

"And me," said Nadhari Kando in her low, gravelly voice.

 

"You're going nowhere," Rafik said briefly, "and neither am I. Really, Gill, one would think you had learned nothing of the art of negotiating from all those years of watching me in action! Uncle Hafiz would not have chosen an heir so stupid as to conduct difficult bargaining sessions on the opponent's home turf." He thought that over briefly. "Well, Tapha probably would've," he conceded, "but Uncle didn't exactly choose Tapha." Hafiz had expressed no particular grief when his dim-witted, conceited son had died in an attempt to assassinate Rafik before he could be disinherited in Rafik's favor, and none of his friends believed this was because of his iron control of his feelings. . .. He had, in fact, been heard to comment that Tapha's untimely death saved him a fortune in legal fees.

 

"Nothing difficult about it," Gill said. "It's in the contract, isn't it? He has to do whatever you say, apart from direct battlefront decisions."

 

Rafik regarded his erstwhile partner with amusement. "And just who," he inquired lightly, "is going to enforce said contract at this distance when they're heavily armed and outnumber us by a factor of thousands? As for later . . . Ikwaskwan is, I'm sure, quite as well aware as I am that time, distance, dead witnesses, and lies can blur the definition of just what was or was not a direct battlefront decision. No, we will have to find other methods of persuading him."

 

"To do what?" Calum, a latecomer to this discussion, demanded.

 

Rafik briefly explained to him that on the nearest star system to Rushima, but well out of the current sweep of the Khieevi fleet, they had identified a planet with acceptable gravity, atmosphere, and water where the Rushimese could take refuge until the battle was over ... if the Kilumbembese mercenary fleet could be pressed into service to transport them there.

 

"Will we have time?"

 

"That," said Rafik, "depends to some extent on exactly how long it takes to persuade Ikwaskwan to accept our views."

 

Although he was present for the subsequent discussion, opened as soon as the Red Bracelet flagship Ta'anbl was within hailing range, Calum was never quite clear on just how Rafik managed to persuade "Admiral" Ikwaskwan to come aboard the Haven rather than the other way round. All he could say was that there had been an exchange of compliments in which Rafik so carefully veiled whatever threats or bribes he was offering that it would take the twisty mind of a Harakamian ... or a Kilumbembese mercenary ... to figure out what was going on. All he knew was that Rafik sighed when the exchange was over and commented that this could be expensive, and he hoped Uncle Hafiz and Delszaki Li were prepared to pay for cost overruns beyond the scope of the original contract.

 

"You're bribing him to move the Rushimese?"

 

"I am hinting that cooperation will not go unrewarded," Rafik corrected Calum's surmise. He sighed again. "We'll doubtless have to commit ourselves to explicit promises and named sums before he agrees; I just hope I can keep his demands down within reason."

 

Nadhari Kando broke her customary silence. "I may be able to help persuade him."

 

"Any help you can give would be most appreciated," Rafik said with a courtly bow. He started to ask whether it was true, then, that Nadhari had once served with the Red Bracelets; but something in her cold, expressionless stare put him off. He had heard that Li's bodyguard did not discuss her past; it would be impolite to bring it up now. Risky, too. Decidedly risky.

 

Acorna turned and looked up at Thariinye. "Cannot we help, too? If it is a matter of persuading . . . you were so good at calming the Rushimese!"

 

"Calum tells me you did pretty well at that yourself!" Pal exclaimed.                             •

 

Thariinye smiled and patted Acorna's shoulder. "Little 'Khornya will learn, but she is unpracticed. Best to leave this to those with the experience to be tactful and diplomatic."

 

(Well, that leaves you out, Thariinye! I'd sooner have 'Khornya handle it; at least she knows how to be nice to people!)

 

(Will you just get off my case, Khaari?)

 

Acorna's pupils narrowed to slits, and she looked back and forth between the Linyaari while the others wondered just what was going on.

 

(Please, Khaari, don't be angry on my account. What Thariinye says is true, you know; I have not practiced your . . . our . . . arts and I would likely be only a hindrance to you.)

 

(Never a hindrance, dear child, but we do not wish you to exhaust yourself. Thariinye, Khaari, save your energies for this visitor; do not waste yourselves in quarreling.) Melireenya's firm intervention quashed the momentary altercation and brought the four Linyaari together in at least superficial unity-for Acorna unconsciously moved to stand with her kinsfolk as they drew closer together.

 

When "Admiral" Ikwaskwan boarded the Haven, Calum understood why he had not been afraid to negotiate on Rafik s turf. He was accompanied by a squad of mercenaries in dark gray uniforms, .each man visibly armed and alert. Calum noticed that some of them wore one red bangle on the left wrist, others two or even three, while Ikwaskwan himself was bare-armed. Some kind of rank symbol? Nadhari would know; he wished he had asked her before the Red Bracelets came aboard. Perhaps Rafik already knew.

 

Nor was the bodyguard Ikwaskwan's only protection; his first words-he dispensed with the time-wasting formalities of greetings and introductions-made it clear that his flagship had weapons trained on the Haven and that at least one member of his bodyguard carried a fully armed tungsten bomb.

 

Rafik smoothly agreed that it was desirable to take all possible precautions when visiting, mentioned with a deprecating smile that the Haven was itself not without weaponry both offensive and defensive, and said that he personally would deeply deplore any dissension which should cause injury to their honored ally.

 

(Meli, are you sure these "humans" are on our side?)

 

(No . . . but at least they are not Khieevi.)

 

(That is beginning to seem less and less of a recommendation. Like us in form, perhaps, but hardly in ethics.)

 

(That may not be entirely a bad thing. If they meet their friends with weapons in both hands, what do you suppose they do to their enemies?)

 

(Thaninye, you have abominable taste. Besides, if they are so suspicious, they will likely destroy one another before the Khieevi even arrive.)

 

The Linyaari continued their internal debate. Acorna listened, wanting to cry out in defense of her friends, but also concerned that her newfound kinfolk would think her, too, a warlike barbarian. If only Neeva were there! Acorna longed for her aunt's wisdom and acceptance.

 

Once the opening dance of establishing ascendance was over, with neither side a clear winner, Ikwaskwan demanded to know exactly what additional compensation would be granted his troops for the service of ferrying dirt farmers from one planet to another.

 

Rafik cleared his throat and prepared to equivocate to the best of his not inconsiderable ability; but before he could speak, Nadhan Kando sauntered out from her semiconcealed position behind the group of tall Linyaari.

 

"Hi, there, Ikki," she said, her usual gravelly drawl muted to an almost husky tone, "it's been a long time."

 

Not long enough! was written on Ikwaskwan's bony face at sight of Nadhari, but he had too much self-control to voice the feelings. "Nadhari Kando. I had heard you were dead."

 

"The rumors were gravely exaggerated," replied Nadhari without cracking a smile. "But since we appear to be on the same side again, Ikki, I hope you are a little better at carrying through your plans now than you were then."

 

"I could hardly be worse," Ikwaskwan muttered, as if to himself. "How did you . . . never mind. So you're doing securityguard work now, Nadhi?" His scornful tone made it clear he thought she had come down in the world.

 

"I am under contract to the House of-Li," Nadhari said without blinking, "as are you and your troops, Ikki. Tell me, did M'on Na'ntaw ever hear what became of that credit exchange from Theloi?"

 

Ikwaskwan licked suddenly dry lips. Nadhari waited patiently, thumbs hooked into her belt, one knee slightly bent toward the man she called "Ikki."

 

"Or did the data get lost when his second-in-command was assassinated?" Nadhari prodded. "Remember? Everybody thought it was counterrevolutionaries, but no one could explain how they'd gotten hold of the plans for our camp. Very clever of them to go straight to Skomitin's tent and back out again without getting caught, wasn't it?"

 

"So delightful to talk over old times," Ikwaskwan said with a tight-lipped smile that did not reach his eyes. "We must have another little chat some time, Nadhi dear, but just now I am needed at my own bridge. Rafik Nadezda has indicated that there is some urgency about this little population transfer, and you know my feelings on honoring the wishes of the client."

 

"I certainly do," Nadhari agreed. Her own smile was echoed in her wickedly glinting dark eyes. "So does E'kosi Tahka'yaw . . . oh, no, I should say, he did know, did he not?"

 

"Later, later," Ikwaskwan mumbled. "Must return to the Ta 'ani)i now. Nadezda, have the goodness to transmit orders and location of the targeted system, also a map of the settlements to be evacuated here on Rushima."

 

Rafik nodded, stern and unsmiling. "All necessary data shall be at your disposal. . . Admiral."

 

Not until the closing of the outer ports indicated that Ikwaskwan and his bodyguard were physically off the Haven and on their way by shuttle back to the flagship did he allow himself a long sigh of relief.

 

"Nadhari-" he began, but the quiet woman had vanished.

 

"Who were those people she was talking about?" Gill asked.

 

Calum shook his head. "Never heard of 'em. Meant something to Ikwaskwan, though. Ikki?"

 

"I don't," Rafik said gravely, "believe I want to ask. We owe her, though . .. and I'd better get busy transmitting those orders!"

 

(See, Khaari? These humans aren't so bad after all. They settled everything quite amicably.)

 

(It must be that a pretense offeree is part of their greeting ritual,) Thariinye suggested. (You know, like a singing-fuzzy erecting his tail spines when he's courting.)

 

(Isn't it nice that the Admiral met an old friend on board this ship?)

 

(But who'd have guessed it? Nadhari is such a sweet, gentle girl, how do you suppose she got to be friends with a professional fighter?)

 

Acorna listened to this exchange and once again decided not to say anything, either out loud or mentally. Her kinfolk seemed to have totally missed the point of that tense, threatening conversation; but why disturb them, if they were happy with their own interpretation?

 

fourteen

 

Riuhlma, Unified Federation Date JJ^. 05.26

 

If some of the Red Bracelets were offended at being ????????? I assigned to evacuate settlers rather than to strictly military tasks, two of the newest officers were complacent at the prospect. Ed Minkus and Des Smirnoff joined in the grumbles of their unit but then Smirnoff, in a surprising volte-face, volunteered himself and Minkus to pilot one of the shuttles that was to be sent to outlying areas. Although most of the small settlements on Rushima consisted of clusters of homes and storage sheds along the single primitive road that snaked through the eastern part of the main continent, there were always those individualists who desired privacy, unspoiled territory, or simply the chance to acquire a larger grant of land in compensation for developing areas far from existing transport. Some of these settlers might not be able to get to the collection points currently being specified by continentwide emergency broadcasts on the hastily replaced com-sat equipment. Others might not even hear the 'casts since their equipment might be down or damaged. Some individualists were prone to turning off their com systems for weeks at a time. Ikwaskwan reluctantly agreed to send a few low-flying shuttles to seek out stragglers, although he was adamant that all his people should be back at their stations well before the ETA of the Khieevi force.

 

"You crazy, Des?" Ed Minkus grumbled as they prepared to board the shuttle assigned them. "Never volunteer for anything, that's what you told me was the first principle of surviving in this outfit."

 

Des Smirnoff laid one finger to the side of his bulbous nose and winked, while saying in a loud voice that echoed through the hangar, "Why, Ed, didn't we swear an oath of loyalty to the Red Bracelets? And doesn't a loyal comrade enthusiastically support whatever his superiors order? Duty and honor, Ed!"

 

Captain Ce'skwa, their Unit Leader, heard the speech and gave Des a long, disbelieving look. "Suck-up," murmured one of the Red Bracelets working on the next shuttle.

 

Des gave the man a wide, brilliant smile and a thumbs-up sign before clambering into the pilot's seat of his own shuttle.

 

Ed started to ask what all that nonsense had been about, but Des silenced him with a sign. The chatter of takeoff instructions filled the cabin; Des went through his checklist and said nothing that was not strictly business until their craft was well on its way to a landing on Rushima. Then he slapped the corn unit off, turned to Ed, and grinned.

 

"You always were thick between the ears, Minkus."

 

"Not thick enough to put myself out for work I don't have to do," Minkus grumbled. "Ikwaskwan's not fool enough to send all of us on transport duty. Some lucky sods will get to stay behind, manning the battle stations and polishing command chairs with their rears, and we could've been among them."

 

Des snorted. "Not bloody likely, with us so new there as to've accumulated no seniority and no friends with strings to pull! We were for this duty, my friend."

 

"So you thought volunteering would make you look good?"

 

Des winked again. "I thought, Ed me boy, him as volunteers first gets the pick of the assignments. Now which would you rather be doing for the next six hours - commanding a troop or slogs to feny the dirt farmers back and forth, with some twobracelet type watching your every move, or taking your pick of what the evacuees left behind in their hurry?"

 

"But we're supposed to ... oh," Ed said as understanding belatedly dawned. "You aren't going to look for settlers at all, are you? You're going to look for places they've already left!" He guffawed. "Neat trick, Des. Okay, we'll take it easy and say too bad, couldn't find no stragglers, Captain Ce'skwa, ma'am!"

 

"We will not take it easy," Des contradicted him. "We've got just six hours Standard and who knows what goodies to collect and stash in that time."

 

At the rendezvous landing they were met by a sweating dirt farmer who offered them their choice of datacubes or a handdrawn map showing where he thought most of the outlying settlements -were. Des was about to spurn the paper map when Ed discovered that the datacubes were in a format incompatible with the shuttle's computer. "Okay, okay, we'll take the map," he said, grabbing it before some of his colleagues could make the same discovery.

 

Captain Ce'skwa glanced at the map and quickly assigned each of the four shuttles on outlier duty to a different quadrant. Des grinned in satisfaction as he saw the generous sprinkle ofX's marking probable settler huts all over his quadrant.

 

"Eager for work, Smirnoff?" Ce'skwa said drily. "You surprise me."

 

"Hope to continue doing so, ma'am!"

 

As she turned to the next pair of pilots, he continued under his breath to list the ways he'd like to surprise the uppity, interfering bitch, then snarled at Ed. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get going! We've only five and three-quarter hours Standard left to collect ... all these poor, unfortunate souls," he finished with a sanctimonious smirk.

 

The first two places they flew over looked not only deserted but too poor to be worth looting: ramshackle huts whose roof timbers had been lifted off by some freak wind, the interiors soaked by torrential rains. "Nobody's lived here for some time," Des grunted, "if you could call that living ... and if there was any good stuff, it's long gone or buried in mud. Whoever built here was an idiot anyway; obviously the area is subject to flooding- he shouldn't have settled on low ground."

 

 

The third place looked more promising. A long, low stone building tucked into the shelter of a cleft in a rocky hillside, it had been high enough to escape the floods, and the cliff must have sheltered it from the worst of the storms that had devastated the forest at the top of the hill. Des's eyes sparkled, and he guided the shuttle to a landing place on a barren outcrop of rock above the building. "Now this looks more like it!"

 

The scramble down to the building was rougher than it had looked from the air; the thin layer of topsoil over the rocks had been washed away by pounding rains, leaving a barren, slippery surface with precious little to hold on to and not even any good footholds. Ed wished that Des had landed in one of the waterlogged fields below the house instead, but he knew that saying anything would only ignite Smirnoff's temper and would not spare him the slippery descent. He took his time, though, testing what miserable footholds he could find and tugging firmly on roots before trusting his weight to them. Des slid recklessly down, bouncing and bruising his anatomy on various outcropping ledges of rock, got to his feet at the base of the cleft, and lumbered toward the house, blaster in hand, before Ed had even finished praying to all the gods he could bring to mind that he wouldn't break his neck on the last fifteen feet of the descent.

 

He was dangling by one hand, eyes closed, feeling for the ledge that had bruised Des on his descent and praying that the burly man hadn't broken the rock off entirely, when a bellow of delight from within the house startled him into letting go and dropping the last few feet.

 

"Minkus! Get your worthless butt in here and help me shift this stuff!"

 

"Shit," Ed said, not exactly in reply, "I think I broke something."

 

"You better not have, ol' buddy," was the response. "If I have to choose between carrying you back to the shuttle or carrying this load of furs, well, the furs have some market value. ..."

 

With this encouragement, Ed limped as far as the outer door of the house-more of an elongated cabin, really-and decided that his right ankle was not really broken after all. Sprained, maybe. A bad sprain. He ought to be lying down with his foot up and an ice pack on the sprain, not hobbling around pretending to rescue settlers. Whose idea had it been to join the Red Bracelets anyway? Probably Smirnoff's, but he couldn't remember for sure. They had both engaged in some heavy drinking after being thrown out of the Kezdet Guardians for embezzlement, peculation, and abuse of suspects to a degree that revolted even the other Guardians.

 

It had been after one of those drinking parties and the subsequent blackout that Ed had wakened to find himself dressed in a gray uniform and being addressed as "Scumsucker," by the broad he had quickly learned to call "Captain Ce'skwa, ma'am!" What followed had been the most strenuous and miserable weeks of his life; Captain Ce'skwa had a talent for convincing them that they would really rather attempt whatever bonecrunching, muscle-tearing "exercise" she assigned than explain their failure to her.

 

And that had been the officers' training; his and Smirnoff's experience in the Kezdet Guardians had at least bought them a single red bracelet apiece on entry. He didn't even want to think about what the rank and file of the mercenaries went through as basic training.

 

Now he turned a jaundiced eye toward the stack of halfcured furs Smirnoff was fondling and inquired where exactly Smirnoff planned to stash those things that they wouldn't be noticed by Captain Ce'skwa. "They stink, too," he pointed out. "Whoever had this place wasn't through tanning them when he lit out. Even if you could hide them, she'd be bound to notice the smell. I'm sorry, Des. We need to look for smaller stuff."

 

Des scowled. "Do you know how much furs of this quality would fetch in the Zaspala Imperium? And I've got a perfect fence . . . uh, buyer; my cousin Vlad has a furrier's and tailor's emporium, caters to the Zaspala aristos. Shit!"

 

And he signaled his acceptance of Ed's strictures by whirling the bundle of furs around at arm's length, then tossing it at the open cabin door. Ed dodged. The bundle landed with a thud, the bindings split, and furs spilled out into the thick black mud left by the rains that seemed to have assaulted this whole area.

 

Des dropped his blaster and went through the cabin with the recklessness of rage, spilling out food stores in case they contained jewels or antique money, smashing crude pottery cups and dishes that all too obviously had no resale value even on Rushima, let along anywhere civilized. While he smashed and destroyed he cursed monotonously, taking out his disappointment over the furs on the inanimate objects in his path.

 

"Why couldn't the jerk have been a prospector instead of a fur trapper?" he demanded of the ceiling.

 

"He is," cackled a dry, crackling voice behind them. "OneOne Otimie, explorer, trapper, prospector, and misanthrope extraordinary, at your service, gentlemen! Don't do anything reckless, now; I ain't real familiar with this here de-vice, wouldn't want to set it off accidental like."

 

Both men turned slowly to see a dried-up little stick of a man in the doorway, holding Des's blaster with two dismayingly shaky hands.

 

"Broadcast said as the enemy was comin', and we was to clear out," One-One said "with a cackle, "but I don't reckon on leavin' my place to no in-vaders, nosirree! You fellas was tumble careless and noisy. Give me plenty of time to hide out up yander." He jerked his head toward the cliff they'd descended with such pains.

 

Des glanced at Ed and moved his head slightly to the left. Ed knew what he was thinking: if they got far enough apart, the old geezer wouldn't be able to keep the blaster trained on them both, and while he shot at one the other would be able to tackle him. But what, Ed thought, if he was the one who got blasted? Damn it! He'd known the Red Bracelets was no outfit for him.

 

"No TACTICS?" Rafik raised both arms in total incredulity and flopped back into his chair. "You've been captured, tortured, pursued for generations. You've had your home world disintegrated, and you have still developed NO TACTICS to fight these Khieevi?

 

Gill, Calum, and Ikwaskwan looked equally confounded by Melireenya's remonstrative expression.

 

"Linyaari do not kill."

 

"That's fine and dandy if someone isn't trying to kill you," Johnny Greene said.

 

"You mean all you've been doing since those . . . those devils started extinguishing your race was run and tell everyone the wolves are coming?" Rafik asked, still staring with disbelief at the calm Linyaari.

 

"No, we have . . . designed defensive weaponry," Thariinye said, not at all liking Rafik s reaction. "We have designed ships-"

 

"Which can outrun them," Rafik finished for him, as Thariinye drew himself up to his not inconsiderable height with indignation. "Fine, fine. Do you know what sort of firepower they have? What sort of weaponry they can bring to bear on us?" Rafik had risen, come out from behind the table, and was advancing on the tall Linyaari in as belligerent a pose as anyone had ever seen him use on another sentient being. "Because we sure as hell are NOT running away. Nor are you in that fancy fast ship of yours. The chips are down, the game is up, and it's here or never." Rafik finger-combed his hair back into order because he had been emphasizing his words so vehemently, his longish hair half covered his face.

 

"We, too, are armed and ready," Khaari said firmly. "They" - she pointed to the phalanx of Khieevi ships-"have missiles of great strength, capable of destroying all but your largest ships ..." Khaari found herself unable to get out the syllables of the mercenary leader's name. ". . . Add-mee-ral," she got out. "They attack and attack until the ship is so ... made holes in ... that it can no longer return fire."

 

"That's not tactics," Rafik muttered, "that's suicide. At least"-he glanced thankfully at Ikwaskwan - "we ve the proper attitude and experience to hand right now." He went to the screen. "Have your ships power enough to flank them, Ikwaskwan?"

 

"Of course we do, and considerably more firepower than they are likely to have if all their kills have been as easy as these horned types say. I mean, no contest. Go for the dnve, the bridge, a few shots midships, and you've disabled it."

 

"Now that the settlers are safe," Melireenya said, "would it not be wiser to depart this system before the Khieevi arrive? Thus no one will be harmed."

 

"This time," Rafik said. "Your own experience has shown  that running away won't work forever. And we barbarian bipeds have a strange reluctance to hand over real estate we've worked hard to claim."

 

Acorna felt enclosed in an isolation cell from all that was said around and about her. Somehow, in those few moments she'd allowed herself to envision her "own kind," she thought they'd be ... well, wiser. More aloof, more self-contained: not that Melireenya wasn't, but Thariinye stood there with this supercilious expression on his face, which didn't become him at all, and he obviously loathed Rafik for making all Linyaari seem craven. But, if you weren't raised to kill, or hate, or scrabble for a living as her Kezdetian children had, why would you need to know tactics?

 

(One uses tactics in maintaining peace and accord, 'Khornya,) said the soft voice of Melireenya. (But, at first all we could do was run, or be certain none of us were captured alive. The vid we showed you is from our earliest contact with the Khieevi. And it was your father who invented the most devastating weapon we have. We dare not use it against the Khieevi because it destroys the destroyer as well. So we do not mention it until there is no other recourse. Do not fault us that we have been tardy in learning the skills of aggression and the weapons of defense. Had we not come to warn you, you would not have known the threat approaching you now.)

 

Though Melireenya stood on the opposite side of the conference room, Acorna was abruptly "in" the room again and not isolated from her kind or her defenders.

 

"So, let's get this tub"-Rafik paused to bow a smiling apology to Andreziana-"behind the moon, where it is not immediately apparent to the enemy converging not so slowly but very surely upon us. You don't want to have a few of Admiral's Ikwaskwan's gunnery officers stay aboar'd the Haven, do you?"

 

"I'm gunnery officer," Johnny Greene said, appointing himself into that position on the spot.

 

The flush of indignation faded from 'Ziana's cheeks. "We've all had battery practice. Admiral. We'll pick off anything that eludes your attack."

 

"Well, now, willya, li'l lady?" Ikwaskwan's eyes glittered.

 

"Leave it, Ikki," Nadhari murmured, and the light in the Kilumbembese mercenary's eyes dimmed to their normal shrewd gleam.

 

And, suddenly everyone was leaving to whatever posts they had been assigned, and Acorna was alone.

 

('Khornya,)-Thariinye leaned into the room again, smiling an invitation at her-(you're with us.)

 

Calum pushed past Thariinye and got her by the arm. "You'll be on the AcaSecki. Rafik thinks we can move nonessentials about and make room for more ammunition. Even if we didn't fit in the extra banks Pal wanted, if we have enough ammunition, we'll achieve the same effect. More or less. If we get the chance."

 

Acorna accompanied Calum, but she bestowed an apologetic smile on Thariinye and a soft (good luck) as she passed by him. He was still watching her when she and Calum took the grav shaft down to the hangar level.

 

What Rafik thought of as nonessential was not so regarded by either Calum or Acorna, but in the end they acceded to his demands, and racks of additional missiles were stacked wherever there was room for them, up to and including Acoma's cabin, the space where her escape pod had been strapped, against the walls of the main lounge, Calum s bunk, and the spare cabins. The bunks happened to be exactly the same length as the missiles, and eight were strapped on top of the mattresses.

 

This was done with great effort and much sweating and swearing, finished just in time to hear the Klaxon that warned of an important message about to be given.

 

"Captain Andreziana here. Ikwaskwan reports that Rushima can be considered cleared of settlers. There is one shuttle still missing, but it is expected to report shortly.

 

"We will now proceed to our assigned position. All escort ships please prepare to disembark. And good luck, AccSecki, Balakure."

 

"Good luck to you, Haven," Rafik said, reaching across the control panel to open the comlink. He settled himself in the pilot's chair, and, turning his head, said, "Prepare to leave the hangar."

 

"Hey, I pilot the Aca^ecki," Calum said, pushing at Rafik to leave the chair.

 

"I'm the tactician, remember," Rafik said as his slim brown fingers flew across the control panel. "You're the mathematician. And whichever you are, strap in."

 

Calum was still mumbling under his breath when he complied. Acorna muffled a giggle, and Gill turned his head away. To herself she thought how much like Thariinye and Khaari Calum and Raflk sounded.

 

(Not a bit like that undersized egotistical by-blow of a twilit and a barsipan,) said Thariinye's voice in her head.

 

(Do be quiet,) Melireenya said at her firmest.

 

Despite the speed at which Rafik prepared the AcaSecki for takeoff, the Linyaari ship had already slipped out of its hangar position and was speeding to take its position in the battle line. fifteen

 

AccSecki, Unified Federation Date 534.05.26

 

The Kilumbembese mercenaries got back in the nick of time from ferrying as many of the Rushimese to safety as possible. As the combined space force of the Kilumbembese, the gaudy Linyaari courier ship, the three armed pinnaces of the Haven, the Uham under Nadhari's command, and the AcaSecki-with Raflk in the pilot s seat-ranged themselves in their assigned battle positions, a certain steely calm descended in the main cabin of the AcaSecki. The pinnaces were a last-minute addition, but they upped the odds against the Khieevi squadron.

 

Ikwaskwan had decided on a frontal approach. If things went as planned, as soon as the ships came into firing range, the coalition defending Rushima should divide their forces into two, confining the Khieevi within their pincers. This meant that each of the larger ships could bring its port or starboard missiles into action, swing around, and come back to deliver a second blow to the attacking ships. If any of the Khieevi ships should break off for a direct attack on the helpless planet, the smaller ships should attempt to slow their progress and/or their landing.

 

"Naval maneuvers need not be complicated, especially when we have never fought with you before," Ikwaskwan said. Rank would have preferred a more sophisticated or subtle attack, but he had none to offer. These weren't asteroids he was attempting to make surrender their valuables, but sapient-although that was not a certainty-aggressors who had managed to terrorize the more sophisticated Linyaari. At least more sophisticated in some areas of technology.

 

The Khieevi liked to fight, so a fight they would get. Only this time the buggers wouldn't win so easily. The heir to House Harakamian was no lifesaving altruist: he was the descendant of red-blooded warriors who had for millennia taken by force what they desired, and held on to it. Since bargains were impossible with the Khieevi and force the only thing they understood, he •would fight them as they had never seen fighting before.

 

Nevertheless, when the first, seemingly endless missiles spurted out of the Khieevi vanguard, Rafik prayed to those warrior ancestors with a fervor he had never before used. It was Gill who triggered the AcaSecki's missile ranks. He heard Acorna applauding, then Calum raging at Markel . . . who shouldn't be on board this ship . . . and then Gill tapped him on the shoulder.

 

"We're reloaded. Your turn."

 

This time, Rafik snarled as he sent more missiles after the first lot and recoiled at the bursts of flame and spewed fragments as the AcaSeckl's missiles contacted and exploded the oncoming Khieevi warheads.

 

"Sheer off, we're going right into the mess," Gill cried, and Rafik hit the thrusters in a two-second blast that took the ship safely away, and their proximity sensors indicated they had missed being blown up by the skin of their collective teeth. Suddenly it was Gill in the pilot seat, though how he had relocated Rafik in the second chair, the heir did not know. But Gill's lips exposed his bared teeth in a snarl, and the intense expression on the big man's face suggested that his ancient Viking ancestors were a lot more accessible than Rafik's warriors.

 

"Oh, just look," Acorna cried, pointing at one of the auxiliary screens, aimed at where they had just been. "The lead Khieevi ships are breaking up."

 

"NO!" Calum's negative shout had more than a tinge of fear in it. "They're breaking OFF."

 

As Gill turned back to where the mercenaries were pounding the V formation of the Khieevi, it seemed that the three lead ships were disassembling themselves into smaller separate units. Far too many smaller units.

 

They watched, horrified, as the little pinnaces, like minnows against sharks, followed, their forward lasers punching at the shark tails ... in three cases making direct hits. But only three instances . . . and luck had to have been on their side because there were far too many of the smaller Khieevi ships heading directly toward Rushima.

 

One of Ikwaskwan's dreadnoughts engulfed a Khieevi ship in such a holocaust that there were only a few units left to peel off the mother ship, like dry seeds falling out of a pod. But they made no attempt to correct their downward direction.

 

"Dead!"

 

The battle cruisers took out three more Khieevi mother ships, and sent their fighters after the few that escaped the devastating firepower of the cruisers. The destroyers worked at the lowest level of the V of Khieevi, but the instant the mother ships were attacked, the smaller units detached.

 

"There're thousands of them," Acorna cried. "Oh, how will we ever destroy them all?"

 

"We'll give it a mighty big try, Acorna acushia," Gill said. "What's the state of our weapon supply, Cal?"

 

"We'd do better to try launching singly, bringing down a small ship with each missile, than any more broadsides," Cal said.

 

"I think ..." Acorna added her opinion, "... that we ought to go for the mother ships. I know they're now a much smaller target, but if we kill all of them, the Khieevi will be forced to land on Rushima, and they'll be sitting targets."

 

"Good thinking, Acorna," Gill said, giving her a grin over his shoulder as he maneuvered the AcaSeckl to bracket one of the now-spindly-looking mother ships in his launch sights.

 

They were so oddly shaped they didn't even appear to be dangerous, though the ovoid upper structure was clearly armed, to judge by the laser beams and lance missiles it was throwing at any target in range. From the upper ovoid a long stem depended, the stem on which the smaller units had been attached, making the Khieevi ships seem so much bigger than they actually were.

 

The dreadnought immolated one of the rear Khieevi in a ball of fire and slowly began to swing round to target a second. One of the battle cruisers took a bad hit and swerved out of range, while its fighter ships returned to defend it.

 

"That's two of the nine gone," crowed Rafik, waving his fists about.

 

"No, three," Gill corrected him, pointing to one that was no longer firing.

 

"Yes, but how many dozens of the smaller ones have gotten completely away? " Acorna asked.

 

"Lets harry a few to their deaths," Gill said, and altered course once more, bearing down on a covey of them.

 

"We're down to laser fire," Cal said.

 

"Misbegotten son of a syphilitic camel driver," Rafik said, and swore on. "If you'd listened to Pal in the first place, we'd've been able to go for one of the mother ships instead of having to go after the small fry."

 

"Let's fight them," Gill said, "not each other. Ah, got one."

 

Which he did, but the small ships seem to explode into even smaller divisions.

 

"How long can they keep separating?" Gill complained in exasperation.

 

Fighters from the battle cruisers and the pinnaces, which had survived against incredible odds, began shooting the new lots like so many swallows in a seasonal pilgrimage. However, the swallows had barbs in their tails, and one after another the three pinnaces following their primary targets were hit.

 

"Sowing space mines?" Gill asked rhetorically. Some pods had escaped each of the pinnaces. "We better get as many survivors as we can."

 

The brilliantly colored Linyaari ship and the Uhura had had much the same idea and collected the pods, which attached themselves to their rescuers' hulls with tractor beams. But that meant the loss of any high-speed maneuvering capabilities for the rescuers.

 

"Let's get this lot back to the Haven," Gill said, pointing to the bulk of the Starfarer ship just visible at the edge of Rushima's primary moon. The small one that rushed around in orbit beyond the bigger one wouldn't have hidden a Khieevi parasite.

 

By the time the AcaSeckl, the Uhuru, and the Linyaari had brought the pods safely back to the Haven, Captain Andreziana had received orders from Ikwaskwan to come out of hiding and get the last three ovoid mother ships. The other six had been accounted for and were destroyed.

 

"All Khieevi are now on the planet, or about to land. We can move in now -with kinetic energy weapons and smash them," Ikwaskwan said, his voice vibrant with triumph. "Pick on our clients, will you, you parasitical, piratical, putrefied parcels of puking pus-filled perverts. You won't be back in this part of space again, I can tell you! We'll pick you off like nits from a nanny."

 

Rafik listened to Ikwaskwan's harangue with the air of one master of the art of invective listening to another.

 

"But there are now so many of them down there," Acorna said.

 

"Thousands." Ikwaskwan grinned. "It could be expensive . . . lucky our clients are rich."

 

The Haven, with them on the hangar deck, moved out from behind the moon and, one by one, turned her big lasers on the ovoid stems that were attempting to find refuge behind the moon from the dreadnoughts and battle cruisers chasing them.

 

Amid the cheers as the last mother ship blew up, Markel said with great satisfaction and in anticipation of what was to come next-

 

"Well, it's up to Dr. Hoa now, isn't it?"

 

He became the center of everyone's attention.

 

"Well, isn't it?" he asked in a slightly speculative tone.

 

"Look," Ed Minkus said patiently for perhaps the twentieth time, "we aren't the invaders you were warned about. There are aliens-real aliens-heading for Rushima. And they're nasty bastards. They'll torture and kill every last one of you and turn this planet into a wasteland. We were sent to get you off-planet before the fighting starts. We're the good guys, damn it!   "Sure," One-One said. "Sure you are. That's why you was wreckin' my cabin. You all seen the damage they done, didn't you, fellers?"

 

There was a general murmur of agreement, broken only by one dissenting voice that said he personally had seen One-One do worse than that to the bar at Grip's Crossing more than once.

 

One-One frowned the dissenter down. "Caught 'em in the act, din't I? And you ain't never seen me toss me own good stock of furs in the mud, have you, Quashie?"

 

Over the hours while Des and Ed had been held prisoner, there had been a steady trickle of other settlers who'd remained behind, coming in twos and threes in response to a message put out by One-One on some incredibly primitive homemade broadcasting device that seemed to operate on quartz crystals, wire coils, and curses. The gist of his message seemed to be that the bastards who'd messed over Rushima's weather had finally made the mistake of coming down to mess them all over in person; he'd caught two that they could use for hostages or execute depending on how things went, and everybody within range should come to his cabin as soon as they could get there, and bring their weapons.

 

The motley crowd that now filled the cabin inspired Ed with no very sanguine hopes as to his and Des's future. There were too many of them, and the cabin's tiny windows let in too little light, for him to see them all clearly, but he was nist as glad of that. The faint light from the windows showed lean, weary-looking men and a few women, dressed in limp rags or stiff, awkwardly tanned leather. Their skin and clothes were crusted with engrained grime, their eyes glittered with the dangerous light of people who'd been pushed too far and isolated too long, and, collectively, they stank of old sweat and stale liquor. And the weapons they had collected inspired him with no more confidence. There were a few fairly up-to-date laser pulsers and blasters, but more common were edged weapons that looked to have been improvised out of farming equipment and whatever could be found for handles-sharp blades, things with rows of pointed hooks, a kitchen cleaver. There were even a few ancient projectile -weapons that looked as if they belonged in a museum.

 

"Individualists" was in Ed's private opinion an overly polite name for the Rushimese who'd chosen to settle the backcountry and stay there in the threat of an invasion by overwhelming forces. Several more appropriate terms came to his mind, including, "nuts," "wackos," and "psychotic bastards." But he was careful, considering his company, to keep those opinions strictly private. One of the first arrivals had been carrying a long rope with which he bound Des and Ed together, seated back-to-back on the floor. He'd cut off the unused length of rope and coiled it again. Whenever the settlers discussed what to do with their prisoners, this man's lean, grimy fingers began stroking the coil of rope, and Ed watched it with horrified fascination.

 

From One-One's broadcast and subsequent conversations, Ed and Des had learned how the land and huts they'd overflown had come to be in such poor condition and why the settlers were so hostile to strangers now. They'd likely have been received with suspicion even if they hadn't been caught wrecking the cabin in search of valuables to loot. Ed had to admit that little fact did rob their story of some credibility ... but damn it, he was actually telling the truth, and it was in these people's interest to listen to him; they'd all be in deep kimchee if they didn't untie him and Des and let them take them off-planet.

 

Ed kept trying to convince them of that, though with less and less hope of doing it as the hours wore on. The changing quality of the dim light warned him that much precious time had already passed . . . how much he didn't know; One-One had relieved him and Des of their chronometers and other equipment as soon as someone showed up to hold the blaster on them -while he patted them down for weapons.

 

Des was unable to join in the argument for their lives, having exploded in such bursts of fury and blasphemy when first tied up that One-One had told the man with the rope to gag him. All Des could do now was rock back and forth and breathe stertorously through his nose to express his fury and indignation. Ed decided to make one more try at convincing -with the colonists.

 

"Look," he said reasonably, "I can understand why you wouldn't trust us on our unsupported word; you have suffered terribly from strangers. But if you'd just let me use our ship's corn system, I could bring other people who'd tell you the same thing."

 

One-One cackled. "Right, sonny, you could bring some more of your thieving buddies down on us, couldn't you! Don't waste your breath; I sent somebody to shut down the corn units hours ago. And there's three guys guardin' the ship, so don't get no ideas about that bein'your ticket home, neither! Reckon we c'n use it to ambush yer buddies when they do show up."

 

"Hours.. . . What time is it?" Ed demanded. "For God's sake, just tell me how long we've been here already?"

 

One-One squinted at Des's shiny chronometer, which hung awkwardly off his skinny wrist.

 

"Cain't read these little bitty numbers so good as I used to, sonny. What you reckon it says, Quashie?"

 

Quashie scowled. "Funny numbers," he said finally. "Don't look like no clock I ever seen. Change too fast, too. What's that one mean, the one keeps getting bigger? Look, it was ten awhile ago, now it's up to twenty-five . . . twenty-six. ..."

 

Sweat beaded on Ed's forehead and rolled down his face in an agonizingly tortuous, ticklish path. He tasted the salt on his dry lips.

 

"Is that number in a little blue square at the bottom right hand of the chronometer face?"

 

"Was blue," Quashie said. "Now it's red."

 

Ed sagged against the ropes that held him more or less upright and closed his eyes.

 

"I'm tired of hearing all your arguing," One-One told him. "You shut your trap now, or we'll shut it for you like we done the other 'un."

 

"It's okay," Ed said tiredly. "There's no hurry now. We're all dead, we just don't know it yet."

 

The chronometer had been set to display the time left before Admiral Ikwaskwan's deadline for clearing the planet. The changeover from blue to red meant the time had elapsed and the

 

chronometer was now measuring the time since the deadline had passed.

 

Ed didn't know what Ikwaskwan expected to happen now, but he was fairly sure that the Admiral wouldn't change or delay his plans for the sake of two new recruits and one shuttle -and it must have been something fairly disastrous he had in mind; otherwise, their employers wouldn't have been so insistent about the necessity to evacuate all Rushimese from the planet before the deadline.

 

As if to corroborate his statement, a distant blast rumbled through the sky. Several of the Rushimese startled nervously;

 

two of them blocked the tiny window, trying to peer out of it.

 

"More of their dirty tricks," one of them said. "Thunderstorm, I reckon. That could of been a lightning strike on Grip's Crossing. Any more rain, and that cliff's gonna come down on this-here cabin, One-One."

 

"Held up all right so far, din't it?" One-One retorted, but his eyes slid uneasily upward.

 

"Naah, that ain't lightning," the man called Quashie argued. "More like the dam upcreek of Grip's busting. I heerd the big one down to the reservoir go. Sounded just like that there."

 

Three more booms and a series of sharp cracks canceled the argument. The last noise was so close to the cabin that Ed shut his eyes and tried to contract his body, as if that would protect him from aerial attack.

 

"Hellfire," somebody at the window shouted, "they done got the shuttle!"

 

"Get my Pyaka outa there!" screamed a gray-faced woman.

 

"Winjy," said Quashie, putting an arm around her shoulders, "ain't nothing left to get nobody out of. I'm dreadful sorry, but we be mournin' Pyaka and them other two fellas. They gone, Winjy."

 

Now we are really 3ea9, Ed thought, and if he thought he'd known despair before, he knew the difference now. There'd been no reasonable hope that these maniacs would untie him and Des and give them a chance to reach the shuttle . . . but as long as it existed, the hope of escape had been there, the chance in a million that they would somehow be able to get out of this crazy place and back to the narrow berth on a Red Bracelet ship which now, in retrospect, seemed a haven of comfort and safety.

 

So deep was his despair, he paid no attention to the lowvoiced conversation going on between One-One, Quashie, and one or two other settlers who seemed to be leaders of the group. Their words were almost drowned out anyway by the woman Wmjy's hopeless sobbing and by the blasts and roars of distant battle . . . not all of them all that distant, either!

 

Ed leaned against the cabin wall, eyes closed in despair, and ignored his surroundings until something hard poked him in the ribs, and One-One gruffly demanded to know what he thought.

 

"About •what?" He didn't even bother to open his eyes.

 

"About settin' you loose, peanut-head, what you think we been talkin' about here?" A second, harder dig inspired Ed to look at the old guy. "Reckon if these here invaders wanted to blow up your shuttle, them and you might not be on the same side after all. And they's ship looks different from yours, too. Different from anything I ever seen before, truth."

 

"Christ on a crutch!" somebody yelled. "They Lf aliens! Some kinder giant bugs!"

 

Des grunted and thumped from side to side, shaking Ed with each excited movement. "Mmmp? Mmmb nnn mmmph!" he grunted emphatically.

 

"'Course, you're still damned looters, and we'll probably still hang you after we done fought off these here fellas, but if'n you'11 give your parole while the fight lasts, well . . . reckon we c'n use ever able-bodied person we got here."

 

Ed couldn't swear loyalty fast enough.

 

"Your buddy, too?" One-One regarded Des critically.

 

"Mmmm-mmmp," Des told him.

 

"Good enough . . . you ain't got nowhere to run to, anyways. Might wanta keep that in mind." One-One sliced through Des's gag with a casual swipe of his sharp tanning knife, then cut the ropes binding both men with two more slashes.

 

"Hey," the man with the rope protested, "that's me good rope youwastin'!"

 

"Ain't got time to fool with knots," One-One said. "Cover the back winder, willya? "

 

He handed a blaster to Des and pointed out that he still had the other blaster, and that there'd be someone watching their backs, in case they had any cute ideas.   Des shook off the ropes and gag like feathers and charged for the back end of the cabin as if he'd been doing sitting-up exercises instead of sitting tied up in a corner for hours. Ed moved more slowly, feeling the pins and needles of returning circulation in his extremities and the cramping sensation of muscles protesting their long confinement.

 

"Pick it up, Ed me boy!" Des shouted. Somebody handed him a wicked-looking iron pole with a row of sharp points roughly welded to its far end.

 

"A lot of good that does," Ed protested. "Where's our other blaster?"

 

One-One grinned and shook his head.' Ain't got enough distance weapons to waste two on one winder, me boy. Your buddy'11 try an' hold 'em off. Any of 'em gets in close, you use this best way you can, got it?"

 

When Ed reached Des, his partner was wearing a maniacal grin intensified by the foam that had flecked his lips while he was gagged and the blood where One-One's pointed knife had cut his cheek as well as the gag. His chin was blue -with an incipient beard and, all in all, he looked as desperate and uncivilized as the worst of the settlers in the cabin.

 

"Luck of the Smirnoffs, Ed old buddy!" he greeted Ed.

 

"Luck?" Automatically, Ed took position beside Des, his iron pole at an angle where he could jab it out the window at anything approaching. "Our ship's been destroyed, we're trapped on this planet between crazy settlers and invading space bugs, Ikwaskwan's gonna pound the bugs and doesn't care what he does to us in the process, and you say we're lucky?"

 

"If the bugs hadn't moved in," Des said cheerfully, "these maniacs would've likely hung us. And as for the ship, there's a simple solution now, isn't there? We'll just have to take theirs!"

 

"Simple." Ed almost choked.

 

"No alternative, buddy. Oh-oh, here comes a bug. Let's see if their armor holds up to a. ..." Des squeezed off a shot. A cloud of steam went up from the advancing alien's hard brown carapace, and one of its many legs disappeared, but the other limbs kept inexorably moving. Some of the legs fired green energy bolts at the cabin.

 

Des ducked, looked at the weapon in his hand, and swore. "Damn fools gave me your blaster!"

 

"What's wrong with that?"

 

"Got mine fitted with a PowrChargr last station," Des said, naming one of the many enhancements that was considered illegal and immoral in the civilized world. This particular one was supposed to allow an ordinary hand blaster to spread its stun range over half a klick, or alternatively to narrow and concentrate its power in one needle-sharp pulse that would vaporize the object it hit.

 

"Shit!" Des squeezed off half a dozen more shots as the alien advanced, coolly picking off the jointed legs along one side of its flat body until they were all gone. The alien toppled to one side and lay wriggling its other legs helplessly.

 

"Give me the pole." Des squeezed his bulk through the open window with a few rips, scratches, and curses, dropped with a thump onto the muddy ground, and charged without stopping to catch his breath. The hooked pole went into a bulbous, gleaming structure on the alien's head and sank deep within, splashing Des with the black fluid that spurted from the sphere. Ed clenched his teeth against the wave of nausea rising from his guts.

 

A moment later Des was back at the window, saying, "Come on, get 'em all out this way. We can't stay in the house, it's an obvious target."

 

"What's the point of leaving it?"

 

"Easy," Des said. His teeth gleamed white among the blood, foam, and black droplets that decorated his face. "We'll lure the bugs into the house, then fire off a couple of blaster shots and bring that cliff down on 'em . . . it's not all that stable now, didn't you notice that when we were coming down the track?"

 

Ed certainly had. And though he had little or no faith in Smirnoff's plan, he couldn't think of anything better-so he begged, bullied, or persuaded the remaining settlers to crawl through the back window and follow Des along the narrow track he had temporarily cleared.

 

For one dark moment he wondered exactly how Des planned to "lure" the Khieevi into the cabin and who was going to play "bait," but One-One Otimie solved that question once he understood the plan. From an overlooked cupboard above the food stores he produced battered musicubes and a solar-powered player.

 

"Kirilatova," he said, jamming a cube into the player -with ruthless disrespect for the delicate workings of the machinery. "Figaro. Remastered from the originals." He cackled at the look of surprise on Ed's face. "Thought we was all uncultured backcountry folks, din't you, sonny? Hee-hee-hee. I like opera just fine; its people I wanted to get away from."

 

As they scrambled through the back window, the last two humans to clear the cabin, the seductive strains of Susannah's aria, "Deh vieni, non tadar," floated through the air. Ed only hoped the song would be as enticing to the Khieevi as it had been meant to sound in the opera.

 

He was almost disgusted at how well Des's crude plan worked. The cockroachlike Khieevi approached the cabin, cautiously at first, then more openly as no one fired on them. They made sharp crackling noises among themselves as they drew closer, firing occasional bolts into the cabin; Ed could almost have sworn the two in the lead were laughing and rubbing their forelegs together in anticipation of a jolly time. He remembered the vids Ikwaskwan had copied from the Linyaari and used as training films, and felt sick all over at the memory of what the Khieevi considered light entertainment. He had a terrible moment as he worried that everybody was out of the cabin. He couldn't have left a dog to the mercies of those-those things. . . .

 

Every muscle of his body screamed to run, run now before they noticed their quarry had escaped, but Des coolly waited through agonizing seconds until all but one of the advancing aliens was out of sight inside the cabin. Then he and One-One fired blasters at the designated weak spots, dissolving a long line of muddy earth and stone into a bubbling liquid that let the front face of the cliff slide downward with a long, final sigh. Slabs of stone tilted slowly forward and smashed the cabin roof flat; one of them fell half across the one Khieev who remained outside, turning his body into a mangled mess that leaked black fluid and curls of steam. The stone slabs were followed by a slow but inexorable tide of wet dirt and the molten lava created by the blasters, which buried the cabin and its occupants under a newly created hill.

 

"Come on," Des hissed before the wave of mud and lava had settled, "gotta take their ship before they catch on to what just happened!"

 

"Before who catch on?" gasped Ed, at his side. "We just killed-oh." More cockroaches were pouring out of the squat, alien-looking ship that stood in the clearing.

 

"You are so damn dumb, Minkus. Would you leave a ship totally unguarded while everybody chased the natives?" Des gave him a look of disgust. "Yeah, you probably would. Give me that pole, you don't know what to do -with it." And he plunged in among the Khieevi with a battle yell of pure, savage joy, stabbing the pole down with unerring aim into the enemies' soft spots.

 

Someone thrust a cleaver into Ed's hand, and the wave of yelling settlers carried him on until he found himself in the thick of the fight, chopping off legs with his cleaver, dodging the energy bolts, frantically waving his free arm to defend himself from the gouts of black acid the aliens spat . . . and then, before he knew it, they were through and on the farside of the aliens, and Des was shouting at them to follow him into the ship itself. Ed stepped over blobs of black guck, already crusting over, and kicked a dying Khieev off the ladder with one booted foot.

 

There were no more Khieev inside ... no more living, that is ... though the stench of their dying and the acid whiff of their black . . . blood? . . . whatever . . . infested the entire ship. The settlers crowding after Ed forced him forward and into the tiny section covered with unreadable instrumentation that Des already occupied. He was squatting on the low, narrow bench that the Khieevi must have used instead of chairs.

 

After a moment's uncomfortable experimentation, Ed decided that Smirnoff had found the only possible adaptation of the human anatomy to these furnishings. Wide metal columns behind them, their outer walls curved in a concave form that must have been designed to fit a Khieev carapace, promised support and protection during takeoff, and the straps that dangled from the columns could, with some ingenuity, be arranged to hold a human body. Ed hoped the settlers had made their own accommodations to the Khieev interior; Des was already punching buttons with mad abandon in search of the one that would fire up the ship's engines.

 

"You think you can fly one of these things?" he asked doubtfully.

 

"Can't be all that different from ours," Des said. "Same problems, same type solutions. They gotta get free of gravity, navigate, correct position, and tilt. . . Yeeehaw!" he screamed in triumph as one of the buttons he'd punched resulted in a •wild blast of flame that lifted the ship from its landing place with a sickening double punch and sway. "Ikwaskwan, here we come! See if you can find a portable corn system among all that crud the settlers dragged on, Ed. It might be polite to announce we're on our way!"

 

 

Haven, Unified Federation Date334.05.26

 

With the Khieevi mother ships disabled and their pods pinned down on Rushima by the orbiting ships of the Red Bracelets, there was time to discuss Markel's suggestion of using weathermodification technology to destroy the Khieevi rather than the expensive, and destructive, kinetic energy weapons favored by Ikwaskwan.

 

"I had intended this system for peace, not war," said Ngaen Xong Hoa sadly. "But it seems that technology of this sort must be used always for destruction-if not by the warring parties of my homeland, then by whoever controls it." He gave Markel a long, steady look. "I trusted your father's honor. He died rather than permit Nueva Fallona and her cronies to make war on Rushima with my weather-modification system. Now you ask me to do the same thing."

 

"Not on Rushima, on the Khieevi - " began Gill. "Wait!" Markel swallowed hard after interrupting Gill, but his face showed a maturity and resolution that had not been there short weeks earlier. "Yes, Dr. Hoa. We wish to use your scientific knowledge to kill... those who would otherwise ... exterminate us. So we would be using it in self-defense, which is not the same thing as using it for making war on the helpless... . You know what the Linyaari have told us about these invaders. If they had come in peace, we would have greeted them in peace . . . but they come to destroy us. And, yes, I will use any means at my disposal to defend my people and myself. I believe Illart would have done the same thing."

 

"We do not know they have come to make war," Hoa said. "Actions speak louder than words," Rafik pointed out. "Ah. But words have not spoken yet." Hoa clasped his hands together in front of him. "Before I give consent to this further misuse of my research, I must insist that we make every effort to communicate with our alien visitors."

 

"Markel? Is this necessary?" Andreziana glanced at Markel and raised one eyebrow.

 

"Yes," Markel said in the most decisive tone. He paused and gave an indolent shrug more like his usual mannerisms. "Anyway, I could probably deploy the weather-intervention technology without Dr. Hoa's consent. Just as Nueva Fallona did! By analyzing the programs Nueva's people implemented we could deduce those things that were left out of the research notes." He paused, and all his aggression seemed to dissipate suddenly. He swallowed again. "But... I believe . . . Illart would also have said we must first attempt peaceful negotiation."

 

"Ridiculous!" Andreziana was on her feet. "Market, as captain of the Haven, I could order you to implement the technology now.

 

"But you will not," said Pal Kendoro sharply. Pal was so quiet that all were startled at this interruption and watched as he came forward to grip Andreziana's arms at the elbows, forcing her to look up at him. "'Ziana, don't you know better than to give orders that Market will feel honor-bound to disobey? You and the other kids did a grand job of recapturing the Haven. You're a bunch of infant experts at everything from astrogation to life-support systems, but you've still got a few things to learn about people . . . and the art of command."

 

"I know what we need to do in order to deal with the Khieevi," Andreziana snapped, freeing herself from Pals grip with a quick, vicious twist of her body. "Unlike some around here, I'm not afraid to take responsibility for it-any more than I was afraid to space the murderers who killed my mother and father!"

 

"And you're still feeling bad about that, aren't you?" Pal said in a low, gentle voice. "They were murderers, and you had no other option, but you see their faces in your nightmares . . . and so to prove you made the right choice then, you have to keep choosing the toughest path, "whether or not it's necessary."

 

Tears sparkled in Andreziana's eyes, and she stared up at him wordlessly.

 

"You don't have to do that now, 'Ziana," Pal said. "This responsibility belongs to all of us; you don't have to carry it alone. Whatever we do, we'll all discuss it, and we'll all share in the decision. You and the other kids did a fine job when you were left on your own, but the point is, that you're no longer alone anymore. We're in this battle, fighting right beside you."

 

Andreziana's lips trembled, and Pal put his arm about her, shielding her face from the view of the others for a long, tense moment. When Andreziana finally turned away from him, she looked composed, more at peace than she had since the Palomellese coup on the Haven.

 

"I'm sony, Markel," she said. "Understand," she warned him, "I'm still captain of the Haven . . . but this can't be just the captain's decision. This decision belongs to all of humanity ... all who are here to speak, at least . . . and to the Linyaari, too," she said. "Shouldn't they be here? And the Red Bracelets - "

 

"Let's not overdo it," Johnny murmured. "I think we know how the Red Bracelets would vote. Besides, they're needed where they are ... in low geosynchronous orbit, making sure the Khieevi don't go anywhere."

 

"And we cannot afford to keep them there indefinitely," Gill pointed out.

 

After more discussion, it was agreed that the Haven and the AcaSeckl would attempt for a period of two Standard hours to establish some communication with the Khieevi on Rushima, using the universal codes that had long been agreed on for first contact with any sapient alien race, should one ever be found. Therefore, mathematical formulae and physical constants were broadcast in steady sequence, using different base systems and with regular pauses to invite reply.

 

"No response," Calum said wearily after more than an hour had gone by. "Perhaps we should try something else."

 

"We could shoot at them," Gill muttered. "That sure got a response!"

 

"No, not-waitammute, wait a minute!" Calum punched at the control panel to bring up an enlarged view on one screen. "Something's leaving the planet-and heading straight for us. Corns, tell Ikwaskwan not to shoot it down!"

 

"Trojan horse," Gill suggested, while Acorna efficiently raised Ikwaskwan's flagship and requested the lone vessel be allowed to exit Rushima unhindered.

 

"He's not heading straight for anywhere," Calum exclaimed. "Look at that-yawing all over the place . . . don't these people know how to stabilize their ships?"

 

"They did just fine in the battle," Gill pointed out. "Maybe this one is damaged." His fingers twitched, indicating his complete willingness to do more damage.

 

"Acorna, are you open on all frequencies?"

 

"Of course, Calum," Acorna said. "Intruder is not transmitting."

 

"If they don't correct their course and identify themselves somehow in the next sixty seconds," Calum said tensely, "rescind the hold-fire request and give Ikwaskwan permission to destroy them. They're now, more or less, on a collision course with US. I'm sorry about Dr. Hoa's sensibilities, but not sorry enough to die while waiting for the other fellows to parley. The Linyaari said they don't parley, and it looks like ..."

 

Fortunately for two newly hired mercenaries and a group of weary Rushimese settlers, at that moment Ed Minkus found a portable corn system.

 

"Don't fire! Don't fire!" he squawked first, and then, regaining a little control, "All Red Bracelet ships and allies: this is Ed Minkus for the ship ... uh ... what is it called, Des?"

 

A rumbling growl seemed to be telling the speaker not to waste time on nonessentials. "Call it Jurden, it smells like one!"

 

"Right! Uh . . . this is the ship Jurden, a prize of war captured from the Khieevi, requesting permission to rejoin . . . and, uh, could somebody tow us in with a tractor beam? We're having a little trouble figuring out the controls on this thing."

 

"Jurden, this is the Haven," came a crisp young voice on the frequency Ed had found. "We have a fix on you now. Can you verify this is not a Khieevi trap?"

 

"Dammit, we just got away from the Khieevi . . . wait a minute!" There were scuffling sounds and Ed's voice muffled by distance, protesting; then a crackly old voice came on.

 

"Girlie, this here's One-One Otimie, free settler of Rushima, and you bring us on board right fast, you hear me? Got things to tell you about them big ol' bugs like you wouldn't believe! And I ain't goin' back there, no how, no way, so if you think us is bugs, you just go right ahead and blow us out of the sky, you hear? Rather that than goin' back, right, folks?"

 

"Jurden, prepare to be towed," Andreziana's voice responded.

 

The exchange was shut off as Haven's tractor beam attached itself to the Khieevi ship. Gill and Calum leaned back, laughing weakly, while the others exchanged puzzled glances.

 

"What's so funny?" Acorna finally asked.

 

"Smirnoff. The bastard can't be all bad," Gill said. "He must have some Celtic ancestors somewhere."

 

"I fail to see that as a guarantee of respectability-look at you two giggling idiots!" Rafik said, crisply critical.

 

"Jurden," Calum calmed himself long enough to explain, "is an old Scots word for a chamber pot. So I guess we know Smirnoff's opinion of the Khieevi!"

 

And once Smirnoff and Minkus and One-One had described how the Khieevi came in firing and attacked immediately, even Hoa regretfully agreed that the Linyaari account of their enemies seemed to be completely accurate.

 

"Talk is better," Hoa said ruefully, "but some warlords do not talk, only kill. Markel, you will assist, please?"

 

The weather-intervention process fascinated Calum, who was watching every detail of Hoa's work. There was plenty of time for all interested observers to assemble because Hoa insisted that the Red Bracelet ships must clear out of their low orbit.   "Ionospheric intervention of this magnitude can affect orbiting ships' communications and electrical systems," Hoa explained. "Haven must maintain a certain distance in order to fire laser beams, but all others should retreat as far as possible."

 

While the Kilumbembese ships -were moving to a safe distance, Hoa studied real-time displays of Rushima's atmosphere and terrain and hummed softly to himself.

 

"Mmm, mmm, good unstable cloud masses here, yes, much instability in the troposphere, electrical potential building up ... a little nudge here. . . . We begin with lightning," he said, "using ship's amplifiers to simulate action of hybrid Oscillator/ Regenerative Amplifier -which I used in scientific studies. Spaceships, being tall and metal, should attract lightning before any other objects on ground. Communications and electrical systems -will be destroyed."

 

"Get on with it, can't you?" Calum murmured under his breath. "Pulling back the Red Bracelets may have been necessary for their safety, but it's got to look to the Khieevi like we're retreating. They'll see if they can escape. They know they're trapped on the surface."

 

Hoa's fingers played over the console pad before him, and he snapped requests to Market for confirmation of the numbers he produced.

 

"Hurry!" Andreziana said from her own seat. "I'm seeing hot spots, probably ships igniting their engines. ..."

 

"Now," Hoa said, and the screen in front of Andreziana went wild with a display of crackling lights.

 

"What was that?" she gasped.

 

"Series of short pulses cause electron migration, propagation, collisions, avalanche ionization," Hoa said. "Conduction path will be formed wherever possible. Lasers would provide more focused strikes, but in absence of information about location of ships, general ionization is best bet."

 

Three Khieevi ships had launched off-planet during the lightning storm, but two of them behaved so erratically as to make Des Smirnoff's approach in the Jurden appear a marvel of accurate navigation. After a series of staggering loops, one failed to escape Rushima's gravity and fell back toward the planet; the other one transmuted into a searing burst of light that left only fragments. The third ship darted through a space just recently vacated by the Red Bracelet fleet and escaped Rushima, but not to attack, only to flee. One of Ikwaskwan's warships swung out of line and followed.

 

"How did you make that second one explode?" Calum demanded, awed.

 

Dr. Hoa shrugged slightly. "Impossible to predict what goes first when electrical systems are destroyed. Steering, power . . . in this one, I think fuel controls. It is not at all an accurate action," he said with disapproval. "Is not science; science deals with predictable results. Now you will see! Markel, bring up titanium-sapphire lasers, please."

 

"Aren't -we too far away for laser warfare?" Calum asked. "The beam will spread until it's so weak ..."

 

"Sufficiently intense light pulses are trapped in three dimensions," Hoa replied without looking up. "Self-compensating nonlinear effects. End result, dispersion, diffraction, and scattering are balanced by self-stabilizing processes. I cannot prove how it happens," he said, "only demonstrate results of focused high-intensity laser strikes on appropriate cloud material. Laser forms a tunnel of ions, which attracts lightning. . . . My intent," he said sadly, "was to use such tunnels to draw lightning away from structures, which needed protection. Instead ..." He twiddled with controls and adjusted the focus of the laser with infinite precision. "Instead," he repeated, as lightning arced through Rushima's atmosphere, "I now direct it at structures. ..."

 

"Which need destroying," Calum reminded him gently.

 

Ikwaskwan's corn technician reported that the Khieevi ship had escaped; having so little mass, it had been able to reach lightspeed long before the heavier battleship, and they had been unable to catch it within the limits Ikwaskwan had set for his fleet's range.

 

"Quite right, too," Calum agreed. "They'd do themselves and us no good by following one Khieevi ship until their fuel was exhausted. Still, I'd like to know where they come from. ..."

 

"Several ships have been captured," Market reminded him, "and we have the virtually intact pod that Smirnoff and Minkus escaped in. We can study their computers and charts. ..."

 

"And maybe Dr. Zip can help analyze the metals," Calum said, remembering how that eccentric astrophysicist had applied the latest upsilon-V imaging techniques to provide Calum with a basis for working out where Acorna's home world probably lay. That world was long since laid waste by the Khieevi, and the Linyaari envoys could provide them with the location of the new home, narhii-Vhiliinyar; but there still might be a use for his computational and astroplotting program, to help locate the home base of the Khieevi. That possibility cheered him immeasurably, and while Dr. Hoa pounded Rushima with storms and floods to destroy any remaining Khieevi, he began jotting notes for an amended version of the program.

 

When Dr. Hoa patently began to tire Calum and Markel both vied to take over from him. Calum was chosen but, when Dr. Hoa saw Markel's sullen expression, he put his hand under the boy's chin and forced him to meet his gaze.

 

"There will be time for you, too. Watch and be ready to take your turn. You are well able when all is said and done."

 

Johnny Greene leaped forward to help the exhausted man who, at first, waved off the need for assistance until he stumbled at the steps leading up to the main level of the bridge.

 

"Come." Andreziana was beside the doctor, firmly taking his hand. "You may rest in the captain s ready room," she said, indicating the door that gave onto the bridge.

 

"Your ready room, my dear, your ready room," Dr. Hoa said, smiling as he patted her arm but quite willing to let her escort him. That accomplished, Andreziana returned to her command chair with just the slightest of smirks at having been more effec- tive than Johnny Greene. And Pal moved just that much closer to her chair, subtly informing the older man that his efforts were redundant.

 

Johnny turned away, with a broad grin that Acorna and Rafik noticed: Acorna with considerably more sympathy and relief than Rafik.

 

That would certainly solve a problem for her. The -way Pal had all but challenged Thariinye disturbed her even if she did see it as only the usual posturing of males for a desired female. The incident had also taken away from Acorna's eyes the scales of infatuation over her first encounter with a male of her own species.

 

However, she too -was tired and wanted to retire as discreetly as she could to the AcaSecki., now once again on the Haven's hangar deck.

 

So, too, was the Linyaari ship, and, as she passed it, Neeva called out to her.

 

"Join us, my sister-child," and then added as Acorna switched her direction, (You cannot know how rewarding it is to see the Khieevi overwhelmed as they have overwhelmed us for centuries. To know that we, we four, have been witness to their rout.)

 

(I don't feel much like cheering, I'm afraid) Acorna said truthfully.

 

Neeva pressed her horn against Acorna's. The scene of Acorna's dream reappeared. (This is what they destroyed for you. But it is good to see that you are more linyani than khievn in the matter of dealing death. This is indeed a novel way of defeating one's enemy.)

 

(IF you can get them to land on a planet) Acorna said.

 

Neeva nuzzled Acorna. (You are heartsick, my sister-child, and it is because we are not what you thought we should be. Is that not correct?)

 

Acorna gasped. She hadn't realized just how deeply Neeva could delve. (I mean no offense, truly. It's just that you . . . )

 

(Are what our world and genetics have made us, just as these humans are the product of their worlds and genes.) It was Melireenya whose deep voice chimed into their conversation. She appeared in the open hatch of the brilliantly decorated ship. (You wish to know HOW do we manage to keep the paint so bright? Ah, that is one of our secrets. Come. Come. Lei us relieve your anxieties and confusions, dear 'Khornya.)

 

Acorna was mind-weary enough to wish surcease and entered the Linyaari vessel. Thariinye was not in evidence.

 

(You must have just passed him on the way to the Haven's bridge,) Neeva said. (He wishes to know more about this most unusual and spectacular method of dealing with the Khieevi.)

 

(Huh,) Khaan said 'with a nasal snort of disagreement, (he enjoys seeing the ships blown up and was counting them. "That is for the Selinaaryi." "The next kill will be for the Juveniiryi.")

 

(Who?) asked Acorna, confused, though she did realize that these were family names.

 

(Ancestors and friends who were lost to the Khieevi over the centuries,) Khaari answered.

 

(Will there be ships enough to satisfy that lust in Thariinye?) Neeva asked ruefully.

 

She led Acorna to a pile of cushions and settled her in their comfort. Then she began to knead the muscles of Acorna's neck, and "work her fingers up and down the length of the mane, into the vertebrae themselves. More often than not, Acorna winced at the pain as Neeva touched places which Acorna hadn't even known were sore.

 

(When we bring you home) and there was a subtle triumph in Neeva's use of the word, (we shall introduce you to the ways whereby we dissipate tension and fatigue. This ship was not large enough to contain the unit, which is why we do not appear at our best to you. We, too, have suffered from the stress of reaching your quadrant of space soon enough to give you warning.)

 

(We are not always as contentious as we have been these past few weeks,) Melireenya said sorrowfully. Then her silvery eyes brightened. (What glad tidings we bring, along with one we thought lost and gone to us.)

 

(Do I have many relations?) Acorna asked, though she already knew that she had been the only youngling born to her parents.

 

Neeva's silvery neigh filled the room. (Hundreds! But we shall not require you to meet them all at once.)

 

(I will want you to meet a few) - Khaari smiled, her eyes sparkling-(a chosen few of mine.)

 

Melireenya gave Khaari an affectionate shove. (I am the elder. I shall have the first chance.)

 

(Chance for what?) The inferences were beyond Acorna, though she sensed them in the subtle nuances of the interchange.

 

(Why, to introduce you to a suitable mate, of course) Neeva said, as if that should have been obvious. (You are well old enough to need a mate. In fact, I marvel that you have been able to contain yourself.)

 

(She has had no one to stimulate that part of her nature yet) Melireenya said. (Or have you experienced . . . well, unusual sensations at all?) She turned to the other two females. (It can happen, you know, for someone isolated as she has been.)

 

(I ... well)-Acorna bowed her head in confusion-(there have been moments . . . )

 

(Not for much longer, sister-child,) Neeva assured her, and continued to massage her neck.

 

(It will have to be for a while longer,) Acorna said regretfully.

 

(WHY?) all three Linyaari demanded, shocked.

 

"Well, there are things I must attend to at Maganos. ..."

 

(Nothing that Rafik fellow cannot handle) remarked Melireenya firmly. (We are YOUR people. You must first come with us. Then, if there are any problems that you must indeed deal with yourself, we can return with you.)

 

Khaari's neigh was closer to a snicker. (And with your life partner.)

 

(WILL one find me suitable? I've lived so long. . . .) Acorna stopped because even Melireenya was convulsed in Linyaarish laughter.

 

(Wait and see, 'Khornya. Wait and see.) Then the other two made excuses of tasks to be done and Neeva altered the rhythm of her gentle kneading, and, before Acorna could help herself, she was dozing off.

 

It was dawn on the Haven before anyone came looking for her. Calum had finally deferred to Markel and gone back to the Aca<)ecki, falling asleep the moment he lay down. He never thought that Acorna would be anywhere but in her own quarters. So, when Gill and Rafik came looking for her, and him, to announce the arrival of Uncle Hafiz, with his voluptuous and veil-swathed Karina, they were startled and dismayed to find her missing.

 

"She is here, close by," Karina said through her veil. It wasn't a very thick gauze, Calum noticed: much more transparent than the silks he'd once been dressed in for Uncle Hafiz s benefit. It allowed someone to get a glimpse of a rather attractive face, if much too plump for Cal's taste.

 

Now Karina gracefully placed her much beringed hand on her forehead.

 

"Very close." She slowly turned and looked at the Linyaari vessel. "There in fact. And oh, they're all there. And fast asleep."

 

"Uncle," Rank said in an undertone, "since when have you followed the outmoded and barbarous custom of veiling your women?" Only a few years earlier Hafiz had been shocked and dismayed to find Rafik apparently converted to the Neo-Hadithians and reverting to the strictures practiced by those who denied the Second and Third Prophets, keeping women veiled and refusing spirituous liquors. He had professed great relief to discover that Rank's apparent conversion to a fundamentalist sect had been only a clever business trick-even if he had been its victim.

 

"Since I acquired this pearl without price, my lovely Karina," Hafiz replied in the same discreet undertone.

 

"Acquired? Uncle, the last time I looked, slavery was forbidden by the laws of all known states and federations. Even on Laboue, I do not think you can legally own a concubine!"

 

Hafiz put on a disapproving expression. "Nephew, I might take offense did I not love you so dearly. Karina is my beloved and dearly cherished wife in the sight of the Three Prophets. We have sworn our vows upon the Three Books."

 

Rafik's mouth dropped open. "You've married that . . . that pseudopsychic charlatan?"

 

"Dear boy," his uncle said in a-warning tone that held more than a hint of steel, "you are speaking of your new aunt. It is a shame to all discerning men that such a flower of beauty should have been forced to work for a living instead of reclining upon silken cushions and being fed on marzipan and cream cakes. Her previous lifestyle," he said grandiloquently, "is unimportant to me; the cherished gazelle of Hafiz Harakamian need never lift a finger again."

 

Rafik reflected that if his uncle really intended to feed his new acquisition upon marzipan and cream cakes, she might well be incapable of lifting a finger in a few years. Even now, "gazelle" was hardly the word that came to mind when describing her.

 

"Is she not voluptuously beautiful beyond your wildest dreams?" his uncle sighed rapturously. "Even my Yasmin could hardly have compared with Karina."

 

Mention of Hafiz s first wife, the long-dead Yasmin, reminded Rafik that his uncle had already shown a definite predilection for women whose most prominent attributes lay somewhere south of their brains. Yasmin had been a dancer in a zero-G topless bar when Hafiz abducted her.

 

"Karina, my little lily," Hafiz said to his new wife, "pray do not exhaust yourself in using your powers to contact the Linyaari. They will awaken soon enough of their own accord, and I would not see your lovely face lined -with fatigue. Sit here and rest yourself, and I will see to it that some light refreshment is brought to restore your psychic energies."

 

Karina smiled up into his face with a look of such radiant love and trust that Rank's last objections to the marriage melted like snow on Laboue, and he was devoutly thankful that the words "gold digger" had not passed his lips. No one looking at the pair could doubt that they were truly infatuated with one another. Still, when he remembered his uncle's cynical strictures on the subject of women and marriage, he could not but be amused to see Hafiz, of all people, swept away on a tide of sugary-sweet romance.

 

"What are you laughing about?" Calum inquired out of the side of his mouth after Rafik had greeted Karina with all the respect due to his uncle's wife and retired to the farside of the Haven's main cabin to release his amusement.

 

"Hafiz," Rafik said. "To see him billing and cooing with that.. . I mean, with my beloved aunt. . . and if you had ever heard the Old Earth poets he used to quote on women and marriage! He used to compare marrying to buying a horse." And he recited four lines of Hafiz's favorite poet's from memory:

 

If it be pleasant to look at, <f tailed In the packed ^erai, Doe<f not the young man try ltd temper anS pace ere he bay7 If She be pleasant to look on, what ^oe^ the young man .say7 'Lol She if pleasant to look on. Give her to me tooayl

 

"And if she produces a son to cut you out of your inheritance?"   "Is it not written in the Book of the Third Prophet, 'Count not the light from a distant star among your assets, for that star may have been long dead by the time its light reaches thine eyes'? I have not been such a fool as to count on stepping into the shoes of a healthy man with many years to live, Calum. While trading for Uncle Hafiz I have built up quite a respectable line of credit on my own account. . . which, come to think of it, he may need to borrow against." Rafik raised his voice. "Tell me. Uncle, how stands the credit of House Harakamian after these disasters?"

 

Hafiz interrupted a low-voiced colloquy of his own with Admiral Ikwaskwan and Johnny Greene. "What disasters, my beloved nephew?"

 

"Well . . . the interruption to your trade . . . and, ah, paying the . . ." Rafik stammered. He had been so flabbergasted by the introduction of Karma as his uncle's wife that he had not even noticed Admiral Ikwaskwan s arrival, and now he had to hastily suppress the comments that had risen to his lips about rapacious mercenaries.

 

Hafiz gave the broad, closed-lip smile that many competitors had learned to dread. It usually meant he had just swallowed their pet canary.

 

"I confess there were some minor difficulties initially," he said pleasantly. "In fact, Delszaki Li and I were forced to combine our businesses in order to command enough liquid credits for the initial great expenses. But -with the advantage of House Li's trading contacts and capital added to my own superior communications system, I am happy to say that House HarakamianLi now commands an even greater share of the galactic market than before . . . and from what Mr. Greene here tells me of the technology to be discovered in the captured Khieevi ships, we expect to recoup our initial losses quite quickly. There is also," he said thoughtfully," the small matter of trade agreements with the Linyaari. Now that Delszaki and I are no longer in competition, that should also be resolved quite profitably."

 

"House Harakamian-Li?" Calum repeated, stunned.

 

"What's the matter -with that?" Gill demanded. "Sounds like a good idea to me."   Calum groaned. "Gill, you have no business sense whatever. With those two . . . rapacious old pirates . . . working together . . . and about to reap obscene profits off their contacts with the first two space-faring alien races we've ever encountered ... well, let's just say they make the Khieevi look like a minor threat to civilization!"

 

Admiral Ikwaskwan cleared his throat. "As to the matter of profits," he reminded them, "a half share in the Khieevi captures belongs to the Red Bracelets."

 

"One-third," Hafiz said quickly.

 

Ikwaskwan hooked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet. "The agreement was that all parties to the contract should share equally in the spoils of war. Since Harakamian and Li are now one House, clearly they constitute only one contracting party and should share half and half with the other party - me."

 

"One-third," Nadhari Kando said from behind Hafiz and Greene. "You were content with that originally. Play fair, Ikki!"

 

Ikwaskwan's bony face looked even sharper and more angular at sight of Nadhari. "But..."

 

"E'kosi Tahka'yaw," Nadhari said, sounding relaxed, as if she were saying a private mantra to the ceiling. "M'on Na'ntaw. And, of course, Skomitin. You haven't forgotten Skomitin, have you, Ikki?"

 

"Skomitin's dead," Ikwaskwan said quickly.

 

Nadhari gave him a sweet smile. "But I'm not . . . am I, Ikki? " Her light rocking movement mirrored Ikwaskwan's own, but she seemed considerably more relaxed; one hand was on the back of her head, the other in a pocket of her dark, close-fitting coveralls. Calum remembered that Nadhari was said to keep poison darts in those tight black braids that coiled around her head.

 

Ikwaskwan moistened his lips. "You seem in the best of health ... as I am. I trust we all expect to stay that way! Onethird, then," he said more loudly, turning back to Hafiz, "as was agreed in the original contract. God forbid I should seek to defraud my honored clients! The Red Bracelets' reputation for probity and fair dealing is known throughout the galaxy.   "He didn't say what it was known as," Calum muttered in Rafik's ear.

 

"Can't use the appropriate language in front of the ladies," Rafik responded, equally sotto voce.

 

What exactly constituted a fair one-third share of the captured ships required quite a lot more haggling, as neither Ikwaskwan nor Hafiz wished to allow the other party to conduct a detailed survey of exactly what had been captured before the spoils were divided. By the time they had agreed on how to share out the loot, another complication had arisen. Des Smirnoff and Ed Minkus, rested and recovered from their ordeal on Rushima, put in their own claim for credit to the salvaged pod known as the Jurden.

 

Ikwaskwan listened to their claim without speaking, while his dark eyes slowly looked over the two very junior Red Bracelets from head to foot and back again. "What recruiting officer took these in?" he demanded eventually. "If I had known any of my officers thought us so desperate for warm bodies ..."

 

"Hey," Des interrupted, "you're looking at experienced men. Trained with Kezdet Guardians of the Peace, y'know." He puffed his chest out and threw his shoulders back, looking as tough and military as he could manage.

 

"Tchah! Howotiawak, thsi6w6tiya"the!" Ikwaskwan dismissed the claim with a phrase in his own language that made Nadhan laugh aloud. "Bumbling incompetents who allowed themselves to be captured by the dirt farmers - I have heard all I need of these. It's not the looting I object to, you understand," he explained to Hafiz, "it's the incompetence. My Red Bracelets would be the laughingstock of the galaxy were it known that I had taken in such gutter-sweepings as these. I dare not even dismiss them." He sighed. "I cannot afford to let them loose with the claim that they were once, however briefly, officers of my force. There is only one solution." A hand twitching toward the blaster on his hip made it quite clear what he thought that solution was.

 

"Quite so," Hafiz agreed. "Clearly they must be properly trained up to the standard of your forces. You do have something corresponding to the regular army's basic training, do you not?"

 

Ikwaskwan s lips twitched as he took in the proposition. "On Kilumbemba . . . we have, indeed. It is, of course, mostly geared to the young and exceedingly fit; admission tests for the lower ranks are stringent. But I think these two should be able to survive it," he said in a casual tone that revealed his disinterest in the outcome. "Smirnoff! Minkus! Give me your bracelets; you are reduced to the ranks and ordered to Kilumbemba for training."

 

Ed stripped off the single red bangle that was his badge of rank without a word, but Des was foolish enough to push his luck. "And the credit for our capture?"

 

"Ahhh," Ikwaskwan breathed. His head moved like that of a serpent about to strike. "As it was told to me, the Jurden was helplessly out of control when Haven took her under tow. By the laws of space salvage, she is Haven's prize, no? Now, you two- to the shuttle, march! You will consider yourselves under arrest until you can be delivered to the brig aboard one of the battle cruisers." He lifted his wrist corn and delivered a series of short, sharp instructions in his native tongue which presumably alerted the shuttle crew to the imminent arrival of two disgraced exofficers.

 

Once Smirnoff and Minkus had shambled off, Ikwaskwan turned to Nadhari. "Nadhi. It has been, as you say, a long time. I believe some of our new armaments may be of interest to you."

 

"I have a duty here," Nadhari said. She sounded almost regretful.

 

"Go, go," Hafiz said with a beneficent smile on his face. "Acorna is in the care of her people now. You have earned some time off." Especially considering that she had just increased the profits of House Harakamian-Li by one-sixth.

 

Nadhari looked thoughtfully at Ikwaskwan. "You do understand that should I fail to return within ... let us say two hours Standard . . . your shuttle would not be permitted to depart?"

 

"And you," Ikwaskwan returned, "understand that the security precautions put in place by my predecessor for safeguarding the person of the Admiral have been not only retained but improved? My staff officers would die to avenge any harm to me."

 

Nadhari shrugged. "With the primitive tactics you employ, Ikki, they will likely die soon enough anyway." But she put one hand on his arm and sauntered off toward the docking bay-where the shuttle rested.

 

"Well," breathed Calum, staring at the two retreating short, slight figures with their air of coiled menace, "seems like romance is bustin' out all over!"

 

Rafik glanced at the corner where Pal was holding Andreziana's hands and talking earnestly. "It does indeed."

 

"Come up and see my battle lasers some time," Gill said, in a voice trembling with suppressed laughter. "I don't know, I've never tried that line. ..."

 

"And you never will," said Judit firmly, tucking her arm through his. "Didn't you have a proposition to put to Johnny, Gill?"

 

Johnny Greene was tempted by Gill's suggestion that he return to Maganos to help with the development of the mining base's third stage, but shook his head regretfully. "I can't leave these kids to run the Haven all by themselves."

 

"Looks to me as if they won't be completely on their own." Rafik jerked his head toward Pal and Andreziana.

 

"Still . . . it's bad enough they've lost their parents and their home. ..." Johnny said, incautiously loud.

 

Markel, never far from Johnnys elbow, overheard this. "What do you mean, we've lost our home? Haven's in perfectly good shape ... at least she will be, once we make the repairs which we should be well able to pay for, now that Dr. Hoa has agreed to stay on with us. We should be able to earn more than enough to maintain the ship by selling his weather-modification services to ag planets ... honestly," he added, "not as a protection racket!"

 

Johnny raised his eyebrows. "You can keep the Haven, yes. But Esperantza..."

 

"Was dear to our fathers," Markel *said, "and we weren't about to hurt their feelings by telling them it was a dream we didn't share. Hey, 'Ziana," he yelled, breaking into her tete-a-tete with Pal, "you want to live dirtside?"

 

"No way!" Andreziana shook her head so vigorously that golden ringlets bounced around her face like scraps of a broken halo. "Give up being captain of the Haven just to get worn-out fighting atmospheric weather and planetside gravity? You gotta be kidding!"

 

"You can take a poll if you like, Johnny," Markel offered, "but I think you'11 find the rest of us feel the same way."

 

"And between Dr. Hoa and Pal," Rafik pointed out, "they will hardly be without adult guidance. Trust the kids, Johnny. They know what they want, and they can be fairly ruthless about getting it."

 

He withdrew to a reasonably private corner with Gill, Judit, and Calum. "Looks like everything is getting settled," he said glumly.

 

"Yeah," Gill said with equal lack of enthusiasm.

 

"There's really no excuse ..." Calum began.

 

". . . to keep Acorna here with us," Judit finished, tears sparkling in her eyes. "She needs her own people."

 

"Do not grieve," Karina advised them, a lofty smile on her round face. "She will not leave you . . . not for long. I can sense her presence with us now."

 

"Of course you can!" Gill snorted rudely, "you know damn well she's on the Baiakare, sleeping."

 

"Not anymore," Karina said smugly, and on her last word, the Linyaari delegation came in, Acorna glowing -with light and happiness.

 

"I must say farewell to Mr. Li before we leave for narhiiVhiliinyar," she -was telling Melireenya, quite firmly. "Even if the return to Maganos does delay you . . .us."

 

"Then you have decided to leave us," Gill said heavily. "Well, it's the right thing for you, Acorna acushia, and we all wish you ..." His voice trembled with suppressed sobs, and he could not go on to save his life.

 

"I must go back with Neeva and Khaari, yes," Acorna said, "to be educated in the Linyaari ways, and to find . . . She blushed. "Well, to complete my education."

 

(Yes, you're going to have all sorts of educational experiences,) Khaari teased, and Acorna s blush deepened.

 

"But after that. . ."  Gill, Rafik, and Calum all waited with bated breath.

 

"We must maintain diplomatic contact with your race," Neeva said, "and as our only expert in human ways, Acorna will be too valuable an envoy to be wasted in any other position. Melireenya will be staying with you for the time being, to be joined by her life-mate; but as soon as our 'Khornya has found her own life-mate, I expect that she will be permanently assigned to this sector as special attache to the Linyaari embassy."

 

Karina was the only one who could speak after this announcement. "Told you so!" she grinned.

 

Meanwhile, far away from the human-settled sector of space, a damaged ship fled homeward with its traumatized crew. Their speech could not be transcribed in the letters of any human language, consisting as it did of a series of rapid clicks whose changing rhythms carried their meaning; but the meaning itself would have been perfectly clear to any of the iniquitous, warlike race from whom they fled.

 

"We must warn our masters to have nothing more to do with this race," Senior Click-Off Longlegs announced to clicks of agreement. "They are barbaric and vicious beyond belief: when attacked, they actually fight back!"

 

As for whether the human race would remain equally content to have nothing to do with the Khieevi . . . this they did not consider.

 

 

End Acorna's Quest