It was late Sunday evening on the Nova York Orbital Platform, and she had spent the day onboard Kestrel catching up on her periodic reports to the Grand Council. She preferred doing that rather than attending another pointless meeting of endless wrangling between various diplomats from the Human sphere of planets. The worst of them were the extremely vocal colonial representatives who were deathly afraid they were going to be silenced and taken advantage of. They were bound and determined to use the conference as an opportunity to better their status. As an outside observer, she had to admit they had a point.

  More subtle, but actually more problematic, were the delegates from the United Federation of Planets, and the Union of Soviet Democratic Planets. In contrast to the colonial delegates, the representatives of these two governments didn't openly bicker over trivialities. No, the problem was they rarely anything of any substance. It was as though neither of them wanted to play their hand too soon.

  All in all, it had been another very long and tiring week. She wasn't looking forward to tomorrow morning.

  Lycans, just like Humans, were mammals and required several hours of sleep each day. In spite of her comfortable accommodations, Symantia hadn't been sleeping well lately and was long overdue for some decent rest. She was just finishing up a light evening meal, and would soon be ready to curl up on the more than adequate Human-configured bed when her door chime sounded.

  Leaving her nearly empty plate, she padded away from the table and touched the intercom panel by the door. "Yes, what is it?" she asked.

  "The Federation has sent you a gift, Guardian L'Proxa."

  The door security camera showed her a view of someone she recognized; it was the aide who attended Federation Senator Lyshom. The aide had generally remained in the background, but the few remarks he'd made regarding the Amalgamation had been condescending at best.

  "No one said anything about a gift," said Symantia.

  "It is supposed to be a surprise. I'm sorry Guardian L'Proxa, I'm as tired as you are, but the senator wished for you to have this tonight. It's something he thought you could use tomorrow."

  "Very well," she said and touched the panel on the wall to unlock the door.

  Before the door had fully opened, she was shoved backwards and rushed by the aide, and two ruffians. All three of them in black business attire.

  It was a set up!

  She responded as quickly as she could. Her small stature was deceiving—the Lycan was a great deal stronger than she looked. She was also considerably more agile than her assailants. She squirmed around, using her razor-sharp teeth to slash at the arms of the two men who had grabbed her, and felt the satisfying sensation of biting down hard into flesh. Unfortunately, the material of the suits the men were wearing partially blunted her attack. The injured men both grunted in pain from her assault but, somehow, neither of them lost his grip.

  She slashed at their faces, again drawing blood, before the aide stepped forward and injected her with a hypopad. She felt herself going limp. As everything was going dark, she heard him say, "Enjoy your gift, Lycan scum."

  Chapter 25. Old Viking

  Tactic .

  Near Alpha Hyperlink Zone for Hordean Space, December 6, 2676.

  Zack suffered a few moments of disorientation, as usual, as he shook off the effects of the hyperjump. As his mind resumed normal function, full awareness of the predicament they were in came flooding back. He immediately called the bridge. "Gertrude? Do you think they'll follow us?"

  Since she had always recovered more quickly than he had from hypertransit disorientation, her reply was immediate. "Too soon to tell, but I'm betting they will. If they do, they'll be coming through the zone in the next ten minutes or so. That's about how far they were behind us."

  "If that's a courier like Murmansk, we aren't going to outrun them," said Zack. "Ariane did everything she could while we were on our way from Haven to the Central Planets, and we still weren't able to shake them."

  "I know. Not only are they faster, they also have us heavily outgunned."

  "What do you think our chances are if we surrender?"

  "If that ship is under Custodian control, not very good. I expect they'd keep the diplomats alive long enough to interrogate them. The rest of us are... disposable."

  "Not very encouraging."

  "I know, we'll have to fight them."

  "...Okay. How?"

  "We hit them with everything we got as soon as they come out of hyper."

  "How's that going to work?"

  "You know how it always takes a few moments after you come through a hyperjump to get back to normal?"

  "Yeah, I'm still shaking it off right now."

  "What you may not know is that a starship's systems go through a similar period of adjustment before everything returns to normal function."

  "Okay..."

  "That means their shields and their weapons will be down for about ten to fifteen seconds right after they come out of hyper. We have to hit them then. It's going to take some pretty good shooting, but it's probably the only chance we've got."

  "They're definitely coming, I'm seeing the glow of an incoming hyperfield."

  "I see it too. Hang on, I think our low velocity might work to our advantage. I'm going to apply full deceleration immediately to slow us down even more. With their higher velocity they should overshoot us right away. Target the center of the hyperfield glow and prepare to fire as soon as that ship translates back into normal space. Don't hold anything back."

  "Roger that."

  Over the next five seconds, Capri cartwheeled one hundred and eighty degrees and rocked violently as Gertrude applied full power to the reaction engines in an effort to scrub off as much velocity as she could. After thirty seconds, their forward momentum had been reduced as much as possible within the limited time available. She cut the reaction engines and flipped the ship back to its original orientation. With any luck, the maneuver would put the enemy in range of Capri's weapons while the courier ship and her crew were still in a state of hypertransit-induced dysfunction.

  As soon as Gertrude got Capri restabilized, Zack rotated the turret and elevated the pulse projectors, taking aim at the very center of the hyperzone. The light within the zone had grown from a soft glow to an intense glare while the yacht was decelerating. A few seconds later, there was a bright flash followed by the sudden appearance of the courier ship.

  Without a moment's hesitation, Zack locked both cannons on target and triggered a narrow spread of six pulses, three from each projector. The entire volley was away in less than five seconds, and he had the immense satisfaction of seeing three of the pulses strike home. With her shields temporarily down, the effect on the courier was devastating. One pulse took out the number one reaction module and two others struck the body of the ship. Something exploded violently from amidships. When the flash of the explosion subsided, Zack could see the ship tumbling erratically and leaking atmosphere from at least two large holes in her hull.

  "Good shooting, Zack!" said Gertrude.

  "Thanks."

  While the two of them watched their monitors, the pilot of the enemy ship skillfully applied thrusters to slow the tumble. Meanwhile her front turret began to rotate towards Capri.

  "Hold on!" warned Zack, "looks like their weapons are still charged, they're trying to get a lock on us!"

  "Our shields are still down! Hit 'em again, Zack!"

  Zack wasted no time reestablishing weapons lock. Just as the front turret of the slowly stabilizing courier was coming to bear on Capri, Zack triggered another six-pulse spread. Due to the damage dealt by the initial pulse strikes, the courier remained without shields. Zack's second volley tore brutally into the ship with horrifying results. Because the two ships were even closer together than before, all but one of the pulses in the spread struck home. One of them ripped through the bow of the ship while a second one sheared off another of the courier's four reaction engines. The other three pulses arrowed deeply into her vitals. After an intense, bright flash, all that remained of the aggressor ship was a rapidly expanding debris field.

  Zack and Gertrude were shocked to silence by the violence. Gertrude was first to recover. "I had no idea our guns were that powerful."

  "Me neither," replied Zack, "but they sure as hell asked for it."

  "We did the right thing. They gave us no other choice."

  "I know. What do we do now?"

  "We don't dare go back into Hordean space. We're going to need some serious firepower to overcome those enemy forces."

  "So we go back to Federation space and get reinforcements?"

  "I don't see any other way."

  "I don't either," replied Zack. "I'm going to leave the turret deployed for now. We have no idea what they might try next. I'll join you in a minute."

  "We should be okay. From what I saw, there weren't any other ships close enough to follow us through the hyperzone for at least five or six hours. We should have a good head start by then. Never hurts to be prepared, though."

  Chapter 26. Aliens

  Onboard .

  Belgrade Orbital Platform, December 6, 2676.

  Krupich, Sergei, Spaski, and Fedorov arrived at the cargo holding facility down near the docks. Krupich nodded to the entrance guard, who motioned them through.

  "Commander Boris Pavlovich of the Political Arm will be joining us in a few minutes," said Fedorov. "He asked us to meet him here."

  "Very good, chief," said the guard.

  The cargo staging area was packed with shipping crates, most of them bearing Soviet Navy markings. Krupich led them over to a fenced off area at the back of the facility festooned with a sign saying "Political Arm Area, Authorized Personnel Only."

  The group stopped next to the door. Through the chainlink fencing, Sergei could see at least ten of the suspect containers.

  "With five of the damned things in each container, we're talking a lot of Custodians," said Spaski. "With their weapons and armor, they'll be all but unstoppable."

  "Where are these supposed to go?" asked Sergei.

  Krupich consulted his tablet. "They're scheduled to be delivered to the space elevator for transfer down to the planet starting tomorrow morning."

  "This just keeps getting worse," said Spaski.

  At that moment, Grasmik, posing as Pavlovich, arrived at the entry. He flashed his genuine, but altered credentials and was allowed through the checkpoint without comment. Half a minute later he joined the group at the gate to the Political Arm enclosure. That part of the facility was locked, but gate had a live guard, who would let them through with the proper authorization.

  Grasmik flashed his credentials again and was granted entrance. He motioned for the others to join him. The group filtered through the rows of containers and went to the back of the large space where they couldn't be observed by the guard.

  Using Pavlovich's key module, they neutralized the seal on one container, and opened the door. As feared, the container had five suspended animation modules containing Custodians packed into it, along with an assortment of weapons and armor.

  Krupich and Fedorov were justifiably horrified.

  "I only half believed you," admitted Fedorov. "This is some pretty serious stuff."

  "Deadly serious," said Sergei. "Each one of those things is as formidable as a man in heavy assault armor. Maybe even more so, and their plasma weapons are extremely powerful. If they get loose on an unsuspecting planet, there'll be hell to pay."

  "It gets worse," said Fedorov, his face white.

  "How so?"

  "There are supposed to be another five freighters with Political Arm cargo arriving today. All of that stuff is supposed to go down to the planet too. What do you want to bet they're carrying the same kind of cargo?"

  "This is bad, but it could provide an opportunity," said Sergei.

  "How do you figure that?" asked Krupich.

  "With these containers all together in this enclosure and a bunch of others packed into cargo ships, they'll all be concentrated in a few spots. If we destroy the freighters or stop them from unloading, we might have a chance to neutralize this threat before any of the beasts are activated. We have some allies among the traders who can probably keep those ships from unloading their cargo onto the space elevator. I just need to contact them."

  "Certainly worth a try."

  "This thing will be a whole lot harder to do if the Navy ships get taken over."

  "Then we have to make sure that doesn't happen."

  Chapter 27.

  Missing Lycan.

  Nova York Orbital Platform, December 7, 2676.

  With Symantia occupied, Arnold had been required to take one of the navy shuttles from Deimos back to the station. At the beginning of what was certain to be another long and contentious week, Arnold was meeting with Ariane in an expensive restaurant near the big conference room for a morning briefing over breakfast. The restaurant was decidedly upscale, and a real Human waiter had just brought coffee and taken their orders.

  "How are you holding up?" asked Ariane, bringing her cup to her lips and blowing across the surface of the fragrant, steaming brew, one of the restaurant's specialties, before taking a tentative sip.

  Arnold gave an exasperated sigh, and a slight shake of his head. "This entire process is frustrating and pointless. With so much at stake, you'd think these people would be taking things a lot more seriously." He picked up his own cup and blew across it before taking an exploratory sip of his own. "I'd much rather be doing something useful like working on the Codex or helping Olga and Kate and the Professor decode the Sentinel Key.

  "Actually, I thought we made a little progress on Friday."

  "Maybe a tiny amount," came the grudging admission.

  "It's a start. Four days ago we couldn't get through a single discussion point without someone shouting and flinging accusations."

  "I suppose you could call that progress," he said, rolling his eyes. "We only have a year to hammer out some kind of universal agenda for Mankind to follow that will enable us to meet the Amalgamation requirements." He shook his head. "At this rate, we'll need at least ten times that long."

  "I know, I know. I'm just as frustrated as you are, but it is what it is. We just have to do our best to be patient and press on. What time is it?"

  Arnold glanced up at the ornate analog chronometer on the wall behind Ariane. "It's seven fifteen."

  "Symantia was supposed to join us here wasn't she? She's never late."

  "Something must have come up. Let's give her a few more minutes."

  The waiter brought them their orders, and they continued refining the day's agenda while enjoying the excellent food, and another cup each of the outstanding coffee. After Arnold finished eating, he again looked at the chronometer. "Okay, now it's seven-thirty and Symantia still isn't here. What do you think we should do?"

  "Give her a call."

  Ariane knew that Symantia had been equipped with a personal tablet for just such occasions. Ariane attempted to contact the Lycan using her own tablet. The device immediately diverted her to voice mail. A second attempt ended in the same fashion. She left a brief message and turned back to Arnold. "She did say she was going to be busy with some kind of Amalgamation business last weekend."

  "That's probably it." He caught her eye, and she could tell he was as concerned as she was.

  "Well, today's meeting is supposed to start at eight, and we need to do some setting up. We'd better get to the conference room. Maybe she's already there."

  Ariane had a brief flash of guilt when she saw the amount of the check for their breakfast. She shrugged, then smiled sheepishly at Arnold before putting the tab on the Federation expense account. The two of them left for the meeting room.

  The station catering staff, who were bringing in beverages, light breakfast fare, dishes and cups in preparation for the day's meeting were the only people present in the chamber when they arrived. The space was, so far, empty of delegates. There was no Symantia either. Arnold reviewed his notes again as the wait staff completed their preparations, and the first of the delegates began to arrive. The earliest arrivals grabbed a coffee and something to eat before finding an isolated seat in the relatively quiet room and burying their noses in their tablets. More delegates began to trickle in, and the noise level in the chamber started to rise as they chatted with friends and new acquaintances, or sparred with rivals concerning the day's subject matter and other issues of varying importance. Since the meeting was all about Human business, the two Hordean ambassadors, Quercia and Salix, were not in attendance.

  Arnold and Ariane started the meeting on time. It wasn't as though Symantia was running the show, that was up to them. Her function was to observe and provide information from the Amalgamated perspective, if needed. With Arnold acting in his usual capacity as moderator, the discussion picked up where it had left off on Friday. The arguments began almost immediately.

  "I'm still wondering who will speak for the people of New Slovenia," said Tadeja Novac, Melinka's cousin, who was acting representative for the small colony in her cousin's absence.

  "We will be doing our best to ensure Federation and Soviet interests do not dominate," said Arnold, managing to sound patient even though this was at least the tenth time this particular subject had come up. "That would be strictly against Amalgamated policies."

  "Says the Amalgamated Representative who just happens to be from the Federation." Novac took a pointed look around the room. "And where is our furry friend from this Amalgamation? Pardon my caution, but I would like to receive assurances directly from her."

  "Guardian L'Proxa is on other business this morning," said Ariane.

  "How convenient."

  And so it went, a few periods of meaningful discussion, and some progress, punctuated by frequent outbursts of rampant nationalism, or blatant attempts at self-service. Ariane watched in admiration as Arnold remained cool and calm while he handled the arguments, and attempted to keep the meeting on track. Finally—mercifully—the morning session drew to a close. It was Monday, and the whole depressing show was scheduled to start again the next morning. Arnold looked immensely relieved and totally exhausted as the last of the delegates filed out of the meeting room.

 

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