Winds of darkness - Part Seven

  		(c) 2001, Wirewolf
		(Rewritten 2/1/99)

  Eight minutes after Garvin had left, the first techs from the *Alvarado piped into the 
lounge.  There were four of them, three humans and a Kexrikx.  Clumped at their feet 
were several tool kits and diagnostic machines.  Two of the humans were wearing light 
EVA suits.  The Kexrikx, the apparent leader of the group, addressed T'yonnosh, who 
had been waiting for them.  "I am Aidepol.  My team and I have been given ninety 
minutes to repair your sensors.  Shall we begin?"

  Aidepol's calm, professional bearing did nothing to counter the hardness of his 
appearance.  His supple skin, covered with fiery red scales, and the long, slim horns 
projecting from the top of head were only vaguely menacing, but his expression was just 
a few shades away from open antagonism.

  'He dislikes being pulled away from critical repairs on his own ship to work on some 
stranger's,' T'yonnosh decided.  He couldn't blame him.

  "The control circuits are in the cockpit, portside.  The arrays are outside."  He glanced at 
the EVA techs.  "Port fore, under the nose.  Airlock is that way."  He pointed.

  Without another word, the techs collected their equipment and headed toward the front 
of the ship.  T'yonnosh watched them go, taking a sip of the spiced milk Redics hadn't 
finished.  Turning back to his personal reader, he continued sorting through the data 
Garvin had given them.  It was doubtful Redics would have much time to read the 
reports, not with the computers in such a tangle.  Since T'yonnosh had a few free 
minutes, waiting to direct the repair teams when they showed, he figured he would 
quickly go through what there was.

  Much of what there was concerned the most basic facts about Yrbo and its people.  
T'yonnosh skipped over the bulk of it after briefly scanning through parts.  He focused 
closer on the political overview given in a report filed with the Director of Planetary 
Relations by the ICCN's Chief of Fleet Maintenance and Repair.  The subject of the 
report was the political stability of Yrbo in regards to a proposed shipyard.  T'yonnosh 
assumed it was the same shipyard Stretreten had told them about.

  Nestled in among the usual wash of mind-numbing analyses and theories were a few 
facts T'yonnosh considered of interest.

  Yrbo was ruled by three separate governments, the most powerful of which was a four 
party quasi-democracy.  This government was the only one that tolerated the presence of 
'special interest' political groups.  Several of the groups the report mentioned were mainly 
concerned with the intrusion- or support, depending on their point of view- of 'outside 
forces'   Dhewa and the Alliance were, of course, the forces involved.

  The two largest groups were against one or both outside forces.  The first group, calling 
itself 'Les Esthid', wanted to continue trade with the Dheway, but to separate from the 
Alliance, which they thought was too immense and ambiguous to deal with.  The second 
group, Sicthamahr, was far more radical in its desire to 'eliminate all the external 
manipulation of the Alliance and Dhewa', to use their leader's words.

  An intriguing point about these two parties was made in a note tacked onto the end of 
the report.  It said that when the report was being compiled, about a month ago, new 
activities were being noticed between them.  It appeared the radical separatists were 
starting to cooperate with the Anti- Alliance group for the first time.  No reason for the 
sudden change of policy was offered.

  The last item, an obscure footnote from an anonymous memo that T'yonnosh almost 
overlooked, was not as definitive as some of the others.  Something about it, however, 
struck him as being important, although he didn't know why.  An economic analyst had 
written about a trend in the fissionables market on Yrbo.  The amount of fissionable 
material being sold to Yrbo by Dhewa had tripled recently.  The analyst was unable to 
explain the increase, but remarked that it was causing serious problems because of a lack 
of suitable storage facilities.

  T'yonnosh suspected Dhewa was simply trying to get rid of unneeded and dangerous 
materials by putting them on the only available market.  He couldn't understand the 
drastic increase, though.

  His line of thought was interrupted by the arrival of the second repair team.  He sent the 
three humans aft to work on the sublight engine.  After quickly highlighting the useful 
material, he switched the reader to standby.  He moved to the cockpit to help in the 
crucial preparations.

  T'yonnosh had to move carefully in the cockpit.  The floor was strewn with removed 
panels, tools and ruined circuitry.  Aidepol and his remaining human assistant weren't the 
only ones littering the deck with debris.  On the opposite side of the cockpit, Redics was 
sitting on the floor in front of the exposed heart of the Ti Phorus' computer core.  He, too, 
was surrounded by the technological crumbs of rushed repairs.  The taint of burned 
plastics and heated polyceramics was an annoying itch in T'yonnosh' s nostrils.

  Kneeling by Redics, he asked, "How's it going?"

  Redics pulled a ramboard out of the core's lower frame and unclipped one of the 
bilinear processor cluster from its bracket.  "It's like trying to juggle greased marbles."  
He snapped a few test leads onto the processor's leading edge.

  T'yonnosh's nose wrinkled.  "That bad?"

  A few gentle taps on the diagnostic handheld that the processor was now hooked to gave 
Redics confirmation of what he suspected; another bad cluster.  "Mph.  I don't think *we 
could have done this much damage from the *inside if we had wanted to."  He tossed the 
fritzed processor onto a small pile by his knee.

  T'yonnosh eyed the pile with concern.  "What do we have left?"

  "Actually," Redics said with a tired laugh, "it looks worse than it really is.  The core is 
basically untouched.  A few holes here and there but the surge buffers did their job of 
protecting it pretty well.  Everything outside the core wasn't as lucky."

  An outburst from across the cockpit interrupted them.  Aidepol was giving voice to his 
obvious frustration over the damaged sensors.  His incomprehensible Kexrikx curses, 
they supposed, caused his assistant to flinch slightly.

  The Kexrikx language sounded brittle and ugly to T'yonnosh's ears.  It was full of clicks 
and sputters, and used extremely harsh consonants and gargled vowels.  It possessed none 
of the fluid grace that marked the common tongue of Demri.  Even human speech, flat 
and nasal, was preferable.

  "Something wrong?" Redics asked mildly.

  Aidepol glared at him, then remembered himself.  "It... it is more difficult than I 
expected.  The damage is not localized, not a failure.  It is everywhere, a plague.  There is 
not enough time."

  "What can you give us?"

  "Short range only.  The long range array is completely fused."

  Redics and T'yonnosh exchanged a look.  "We need to have the long range sensors for 
navigation.  It's critical," T'yonnosh said.

  Aidepol reacted as though he had unexpectedly been bitten.  A sneer pulled at his pale 
orange lips, his shoulders tensed.

  "I know your needs," he said tightly.  "You will be flight ready."

  Kexrikx were an intense race, the two friends knew.  Antagonizing him could only be 
counter-productive.  Redics tilted his head forward, informal bow, and broke eye contact.  
"Our apologies."  T'yonnosh followed suit.

  Aidepol calmed quickly.  He returned the nod and explained his plans for the short 
range sensors.  "We will alter their parameters a bit.  Long range data can be gained, at 
low resolution, by splitting the bandwidth and using the short range frequencies at the 
extreme high end.  Short and long will timeshare with the single remaining array."

  T'yonnosh frowned, more familiar with sensor mechanics than Redics.  "You'll be 
running frequencies outside the array's capacity through it?"

  "Yes.  It will shorten the array's life to about thirty hours, but there is no other way."  
Aware of the limitations he was placing on them, he asked, "Is this enough time?"

  Thinking of Sesh and Kitress, Redics grimly replied, "It will have to be." T'yonnosh 
turned back to his human partner.  "What about the computer?  Will it be ready?"

  Redics chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip, a habit T'yonnosh found singularly 
unappealing  "Not by departure time.  It won't stop us from leaving, but I'll have to do 
some work on our way out."  He glanced at one of the screens on the control Board, the 
results of the core's latest diagnostic.  The core was clean now.  He grunted with minor 
satisfaction.

  "Where do you want me?" T'yonnosh asked.

  "The only way the key systems will stay a hundred percent is to hardwire them, fast and 
dirty.  You're good at that.  There's a roll of fiberop cable on the seat behind you."

  T'yonnosh nodded.  He grabbed up the roll, picked up a stray torque gun, and began 
pulling panels off the main control Board.

  **************************

  Their ninety minutes were almost up and work was becoming frantic.  Redics was some 
ways from getting the computer to behave reliably.  T'yonnosh wasn't quite finished 
rigging a hardwire control system to use in case the computer zeroed.  Aidepol and his 
bunch found the Ti Phorus' short range sensor array didn't take kindly to timesharing two 
different frequencies.

  Even the techs fiddling with the sublight engines had called forward to ask why the 
driver coil assembly wouldn't talk to its control module after being briefly disconnected 
from it.  In answer, Redics had rebooted the assembly's command protocols from the 
emergency files by remote, then enigmatically told them they were lucky the protocol file 
hadn't been next to his coffee file.

  Zephanthus had the easiest time of it, but not for lack of things to do.  Redics had asked 
him to take care of any preparations they might need to handle fourteen injured hostages.   
"Medicine, food, stuff like that," had been Redics' suggestion, but Zanth also had an idea 
or two of his own.

  The synthesizable items came first.  Redics had warned him that the synthesizers would 
have to go off-line, along with every other non- essential system aboard, to free up 
computer space.  Before that happened, he instructed the synthesizer to produce twenty 
quick-heat meal packs and an equivalent number of blankets.  Water wasn't a problem.  
The Ti Phorus used a 1600 liter storage and filtration system to supply water.

  The medicines were a different problem.  The Ti Phorus' synthesizers didn't have high 
enough resolution to manufacture medicines, and their first aid kit was pitifully 
inadequate.

  After he had laboriously moved the meal packs and blankets, one at a time in his mouth, 
he went up front to ask someone where he should get the medicines.  It was obvious to 
Zanth, though, that everyone in the cockpit had problems of their own.  Quietly, he 
slipped back to the lounge and sat, staring at the pile of food he had made along one wall.

  The medicines would have to come from outside, Zanth knew.  He also knew there was 
only one person outside the Ti Phorus who would take his request seriously.

  Standing on his hind legs, his forepaws on the table before him, Zanth used one of the 
workstations to place a call to the *Alvarado.  The man who answered blinked in surprise 
at what he saw on his screen.  Zanth used that opportunity to give his request, a general 
page for Jim Garvin.  A moment's uncertainty was followed by a curt, "One moment."  
The screen went blank, leaving Zanth to wonder how many attempts would be needed 
before he got to talk to Garvin.

  He was relieved when the screen re-lit with the face of the very man he wanted.

  "Zanth," he said, smiling.  "It is you.  I wasn't sure when he described you..."  He paused, 
his smile fading.  "What is it?  Is anything wrong?"

  "We don't have enough medicine for fourteen people.  Our synthesizers can't make any.  
Could you send us twenty medikits?"

  "Twenty medikits?"  Garvin seemed confused.  Then he realized Zanth was working 
under the assumption that they might end up with more people injured than just the 
hostages.  Garvin certainly approved his foresight.  "Yes, I see.  I'll speak to Mr. Roman 
as soon as I can to arrange it."

  Zephanthus thanked him and was about to say good-bye when someone on Garvin's end 
interrupted him, handing him a datapadd.  Garvin glanced briefly at it, then began 
scanning its contents intensely.  "Zanth," he said, "I need to speak to the three of you 
about this."

  Back in the cockpit, Aidepol and his people were just finishing up when Zanth asked 
Redics to route Garvin's connection to the main viewscreen.  Redics waited until they 
were alone before he reopened the channel.  It was obvious by his grim expression that 
Garvin had more bad news.

  "I don't know how to tell you this except straight out."  He began reading aloud from the 
padd.  "'A group of Yrboti separatists made a net-wide announcement an hour ago.  They 
informed the public of the attack and the kidnapping and have claimed responsibility.  
The effect has been,'" Garvin paused briefly to look up at his viewscreen, his expression 
jaundiced, "'tremendous.  The controversy between those who want an alliance with  
Outsiders and those who think Outsiders are turning Yrbo into something it isn't meant to 
be has roughly split the population.  Public awareness of this event has greatly polarized 
these viewpoints.  It has already degenerated into street fighting in some places and 
promises to get worse the longer it goes on. '"

  Garvin tossed the padd aside in evident disgust.  "That report came from the Alliance 
Embassy compound on Yrbo about five minutes ago.  The fighting around their building 
was getting intense.  They've had to barricade themselves inside.  It goes without saying 
that all diplomatic ties between Yrbo and the Alliance are being severely strained."  He 
stared down at his hands.  Frustration colored his tone. "It's as though someone found a 
loose thread running through this planet's society and gave it a hard pull.  Now the whole 
thing is threatening to come apart."

  T'yonnosh rubbed the point of his narrow chin, thinking furiously.  "So this attack was 
carried out by an Yrboti political group?  What about the Dheway?"

  "I'm not sure.  It could be that they are just victims in all of this."  Garvin shrugged.  
"Until I can talk to Prulim or some other Yrboti of rank, I can' t give any solid answers."

  "What are the group's demands?" Redics asked.

  Garvin frowned as he retrieved the padd.  He went through the brief report a second 
time.  "It says they haven't made any demands yet.  No doubt they'll want all non-Yrboti 
ejected from their planet and stations."  He shook his head slowly as he put the padd 
down again.  "It doesn't make sense, though."

  "What, exactly?" T'yonnosh prodded.

  "The research we did on Yrbo before we arranged the ceremony included this cluster of 
separatists.  They weren't prioritized as a threat because their leader, someone called 
Bespnuptha, was killed a month ago.  The sources we had said the group was in disarray 
from lack of leadership."

  "What we've seen and learned of this affair suggests it was planned well in advance."  
T'yonnosh's ears were canted back, agitation.

  "Exactly," said Garvin.

  "Where does that leave us?" Redics wanted to know.

  "Regardless of who's responsible, priority goes to getting the hostages back.  For that 
reason," Garvin hesitated minutely, "I am assigning two ICC security teams to you."

  The two men stared at each other across the comm link.  T'yonnosh sensed an unnatural 
tension rise sharply between them.  He could smell it from Redics, the flush of human 
adrenaline.

  Redics leaned forward slowly, deliberately.  "I'm sorry, Jim.  It simply wouldn't work."

  "Damnit, Redics," Garvin said angrily, "this is not the time to be stubborn!  There's no 
room for ego!"

  Redics' soft reply was every bit as intense as Garvin's outburst.  He stared his employer 
in the eye and said, "This isn't about ego.  Jim, trust us."

  The heat of Garvin's momentary anger had already left him.  More than once, he had 
given himself over to his trust in these people.  He would have to do it again.

  "I know you, Redics," he warned.  "Stay objective, whatever happens."  A pale 
reflection of a smile crossed his face.  "We have enough bodies to bury."  He sobered 
quickly.  "T'yonnosh, Zanth, help him."  He cursed softly.  "Luck to you."  The 
connection was cut.

  The three of them looked at each other, but remained silent.  There was nothing, really, 
to say.

  **************************

  "That's all of it for now," Redics said as he dropped into the seat next to T'yonnosh.   
"How are navigation and the sensors getting along?"

  T'yonnosh kept his eyes on their heading and the sensor readings.

  "Nav's not happy with the arrangement.  It keeps asking for a tighter definition and the 
sensors keep giving it the same data.  Processing time is way down, too."

  "What's our speed?"

  "Factor 2.2."

  Redics grimaced.  Using the sensor logs from the Alvarado, they had singled out the 
Dheway freighter's hyperdrive signature and the direction it had gone.  Now, with the Ti 
Phorus' systems hindered, they couldn't go any faster than factor 2.2 or they would 
literally overrun the signature trail, going faster than the sensors could read or the nav 
computers could react.  Worse, the cargo hauler was running with mostly empty holds, 
giving it a thrust-to-mass ratio that would let it move at almost factor four.

  They were six hours out from Yrbo and about four days from the Dheway home system.  
When Redics checked their course against Dhewa's coordinates, however, he was 
surprised to find they were moving parallel to that star system.

  "Where are they taking them?" he wondered aloud.  He called up a visual projection of 
their course.  It took longer than it should have to dredge up the data, making him all the 
more aware of their handicap.  The course projection came up.  Redics stared at it, 
wondering.

  "Unless they change course at some point, they won't reach anything of significance for 
three weeks."  He had the computer run the numbers again.  The computer came back 
with the same projection.

  So.  They were taking an indirect route to their destination.

  Well, wait a minute, he thought to himself.  What if they are headed straight to where 
they want to go?  It doesn't necessarily have to be a planet or star.  It could simply be a 
point in space, probably well out of the interstellar traffic lanes.

  Next question:  why just sit at some quiet spot in space with a handful of hostages?

  A rendezvous?  Possible.

  A hiding place?  Not likely.  Alliance vessels usually had enough scanning capability to 
find ships a lot farther away than the freighter could get within several days.

  All right, a rendezvous.  With who?  It was doubtful they would expect to meet with any 
Yrboti out here.  Yrbo had no hyperlight capable ships of its own, not yet.  A meeting 
with a Dheway ship made more sense.  Especially since it was a Dheway cargo ship the 
hostages were aboard.

  But what if Zanth was right, and the Yrboti were running the show?

  Steal a Dheway merchant's ship, and meet with more Dheway in empty space?

  If Yrbo and Dhewa were out there working together, who were they working against?

  "Only two of the missing persons are Yrboti," Garvin had said.  "The rest are a mix of 
Alliance citizens."

  With a scenario like that, the purpose for taking hostages could be anything from 
leverage to revenge.

  Redics sighed heavily and rubbed an itch on his cheek.  His hand came away with a 
strand of gray hair.  He studied it, rolled it between finger and thumb.  T'yonnosh's, he 
concluded.  The hair on his own head was longer and coarser than this specimen.

  It wasn't unusual to find cast fur.  He lived, after all, with two furred beings.  Even their 
fastidious grooming habits couldn't prevent a certain amount from floating around.  Then 
he noticed another strand on his arm.  And another on the control Board.  He looked at 
his caniform partner and saw more loose hairs laying scattered across his side of the 
Board, stuck to the arm of his seat.

  Stress, Redics realized.  It caused physical reactions in genemorphs similar to other 
furred mammalians.  As he watched, he saw stress was only part of the cause.  T'yonnosh 
was fighting his own fatigue as much as he was fighting the computer.  He had only 
gotten a short nap on the station.

  "I'll hold her together for a while if you want to get some sleep," Redics said.  
T'yonnosh's ears lifted a bit and he nodded briefly.  Once Redics had control, T'yonnosh 
stood.  His legs quivered a little from sitting too long.  He walked stiffly out of the 
cockpit.

  Redics glanced at T'yonnosh's chair.  The back and seat were covered with loose hair.

  **************************

  T'yonnosh stood in the doorway of his room, looking in.  Despite the weariness that was 
weighing him down, he was reluctant to move to his bed.

  The hours he had spent working had been a help.  Concentrating on the computer's 
needs had kept him from dwelling on the personal aspects of the crisis.  But even now, 
without forced preoccupation, his mind was being pulled to thoughts of Sesh and Kitress.  
Were they alive?  Were they injured?  Would he and Redics be able to find them, to 
rescue them?

  And most of all, why?  Why had this happened?

  T'yonnosh groaned and leaned against the doorframe.  He had no answers, only worries.

  He walked past the bed into the bathroom.  The lights rose automatically, and a section 
of one wall turned reflective.  He studied himself in the mirror.  It was no surprise he 
looked as bad as he felt.  His eyelids were drooping.  So were his ears.  A strand of gray 
lay across the flat of his nose.  He brushed it away, and left two more in its place.

  A shower, he decided.  He stepped into the stall and valved in a stream of warm water.  
He turned the pressure up as far as it would go and stood under the needle-sting spray, 
letting it groom him.  Clumps of shed hair swirled into the drain.  He spent a few minutes 
working out a number of singed spots in the fur of his hands and arms where the micro-
plasma welder had backflashed on him.  Folding his ears and squeezing his eyes shut, he 
thrust his head under the spray.  He worked his fingers through the thicker hair that 
crowned him.  More hair went spiraling down the drain.

  T'yonnosh finished his shower and dried off.  Finally, he curled up in bed.  He preferred 
its padded bowl shape to the flat slabs his human partner slept on.

  As he feared, sleep wouldn't come.  He couldn't stop thinking about Sesh and his son.  If 
only, he thought desperately, if only we knew who was piloting the cargo ship.  Then 
we'd have an idea what they want and why they need Alliance hostages.

  Hostages.  The very word acted like a magnet, pulling to it some of the darker thoughts 
in his head.

  Grumbling unhappily, T'yonnosh rolled over onto his right side.  He told the computer 
to play a one-hour selection of soft music and banished all thoughts of hostages.

  Without warning, a memory surfaced that made his blood run cold.  During his cultural 
studies in school, T'yonnosh had found references to an infamous character named 
Straasha.  He had been what Terrans would have called a pirate, living some 200 years 
before.

  He and his crew had modified several small freighters and preyed upon small single 
ships that moved within Demrion's space, terrorizing travelers and raiding any shipping 
he could find.

  His favorite method of making money had been ransoming, kidnapping wealthy people 
and holding them hostage until payment was made.

  The first few times he tried this, his demands went unheeded.  Furious, Straasha had 
bound his victims, disemboweled them and feasted on their entrails while they watched, 
dying.  For this, he earned himself another name: Grimjaws.

  It was this image that came to T'yonnosh: Grimjaws slashing and tearing at his victim, 
blood running from the point of his chin while his hostage watched...

  "Enough," T'yonnosh said aloud.  He threw himself out of bed and went back to his 
bathroom.  From a drawer he retrieved an injector he kept for nights like this.  He set it 
against his arm, then changed his mind.  He reduced the dosage by half, then triggered it.  
He only wanted enough tranquilizer to get him to sleep, not keep him under.

  By the time he was back in bed, his limbs were getting heavy and it took extraordinary 
effort to keep his eyes open.  He settled in.  The last thought he had before he dropped 
into sleep was to wonder what kind of dreams he would have.

  **************************

  Almost nine hours passed before T'yonnosh came back to the cockpit, feeling better for 
having rested, though no happier.  He found his friend working on the computer core 
again instead of watching the sensor's readout.  Redics glanced up and greeted him 
distractedly.

  Curious, T'yonnosh looked at the sensor display.  Their course was unchanged, but now 
a second readout was overlaying the first.  The new data was corresponding with the 
sensor's.  He couldn't tell where the second readout was coming from, but it seemed to be 
directed at the navigational controls.

  "What have you been up to?" he asked.

  "Hmm?" Redics looked up again.  T'yonnosh pointed to the sensor readout.  "Oh, that.  I 
found a way to tie the weapons targeting system into nav.  The targeting processors 
weren't damaged, so I decided to put them to use.  Only instead of aiming the cannons, 
they're aiming the ship."

  T'yonnosh was impressed but not surprised.  He had long ago learned of Redics' talent 
for turning almost any computer to whatever task he needed done, regardless of how 
unsuitable the machine was.

  "I've also hooked the hyperdrive controls into the sensors," Redics added.  "If we lose 
the trail, we'll drop into realspace automatically."

  "What are you doing now?"

  "Just general repairs.  I found a few life support circuits had tripped to backup and I 
wanted to fill in the gaps."

  "Is there anything else that needs doing?  Anything I can help with?"

  Redics shook his head.  "Nah.  There's nothing to do, really, but wait.  I'm only doing 
this," he nodded at his work, "to kill time."

  T'yonnosh went back to studying Garvin's background data while Redics shored up the 
ailing computer.  It was quiet in the cockpit as the two men concentrated on their 
separate tasks.

  The hastily gathered information from their employer couldn't bring T'yonnosh any 
closer to understanding why he and his friends were chasing a Dheway freighter full of 
Alliance hostages.  He found it hard to concentrate, in part because of a gnawing hunger.  
When he asked if Redics was hungry, his partner simply shrugged and said, "I guess."  
T'yonnosh distracted himself by sharing a quick-heat meal with him.

  While they were eating, Zanth came in and sat down.  After a moment, he announced, "I 
hate waiting."  His companions agreed.

  After they finished and Redics went back to fussing with the computer, T'yonnosh sat 
and thought, his mood darkening.  Finally, he spoke.

  "Redics, can I ask you a personal question?"

  The human stopped working and gazed at him, a look of mild concern tugging at his 
smooth features.  T'yonnosh understood his reaction.  Since their childhood, the many 
years of acquaintance, few questions, personal or otherwise, were left unasked between 
them.

  After a thoughtful pause, Redics said, "Of course."

  T'yonnosh inhaled, hesitated, then committed his thoughts to speech.

  "How are you dealing with this?"

  Redics blinked, the corners of his mouth tightening.  He looked down at his hands as 
though he had been caught doing something wrong.  After several moments of silence, he 
gazed up at T'yonnosh.  "Actually, I haven't been dealing with it," he said slowly.  "I've 
been wrapping myself up in these repairs.  When I actually give it any thought..."  His 
voice trailed off, his fists clenched and opened around the slim diagnostic probe he held.  
When he continued speaking, T'yonnosh could hear a slight waver in his voice.  "When I 
do think about it, I feel very cold inside."

  While T'yonnosh thought about this, Redics added, "Jim was right about one thing.  I'm 
going to have a hard time staying objective."

  "Yes, well," T'yonnosh cleared his throat, his discomfort showing, "you may not be 
alone in that regard."

  Redics stared at him, surprised.  "Huh."  He shook his head.  "I wouldn't have figured on 
hearing that from you.  You're the most level- headed person I know."

  "And you're the most capable person I know.  So between the two of us..."  T'yonnosh 
stopped there, giving a small shrug.

  "Between us," Redics finished for him, "we should either carry this off without breaking 
a sweat, or cause unparalleled disaster for several species."

  T'yonnosh frowned, but before he could reply an alarm sounded.  It was joined almost 
immediately by a second alarm.  Both men vaulted into their seats.

  "The computer has disengaged the hyperdrive," T'yonnosh reported.

  Redics touched a few controls.  "The sensors say the drive signature ends here."  He 
broke the link between the weapons targeters and the sensors.  Broadening the bandwidth 
as far as he could, he scanned the immediate area.  The scan came back negative.  "So 
where are they?"

  "Try searching for a sublight trail," T'yonnosh suggested.

  A grim smile pulled at Redics' lips.  "Yeah.  And I think I know where to look for one."  
He plotted a course for the Dhewa home world and scanned along that vector.

  There is was, another trail.  The definition of the readings was deteriorating: the sensors 
were beginning to burn out, but the exhaust plasma was unmistakable.

  "I think they're making a break for home.  I say we plot a course and pursue at 
maximum speed," Redics said, looking at T'yonnosh.  "What do you think?"

  T'yonnosh studied the readout, turning things over in his mind.  "It does make sense that 
they would head straight for Dhewa, now that they've broken off their original course.  
And it would save us the time of trying to follow the trail with the sensors."  T'yonnosh 
looked back at Redics.  "Or it could be there to lure us away, giving us what we expect."

  Redics considered his partner's comments.  He chewed on his lower lip.

  "How long ago did the freighter make this course change?"

  T'yonnosh checked the chronometer readout.  "It's been 25 hours since the explosions 
and the freighter's departure."  He pulled the navigation functions to his station and 
worked the numbers through.  "At factor four, it took them 83 minutes to reach this point, 
so they have a 24 hour head start."  T'yonnosh anticipated Redics' next question.  
"Assuming they used their sublight engines to get away from their hyper signature then 
went back into hyperspace, they should now be about eight hours from Dhewa.  If we 
move at our top speed, we should overtake them in only ninety minutes."

  After quiet reflection, Redics asked, "Would they be inside Dhewa space by then?"

  "They already are," T'yonnosh answered.

  To follow the new trail would make them invaders, and increase the risks.  An uninvited 
foray into another species' territory could bring disastrous complications, not just here 
and now, but for years to come.  This decision could not be made lightly.

  The two were staring at each other.  They had been through variations of this 
conversation before.  Each had a clear understanding of what their decision would be.  It 
was important, however, that their agreement be spoken, and their willingness to accept 
any consequences openly voiced.  They were, after all, partners.

  It was Redics that spoke first.  "We can't just leave them."

  T'yonnosh said, "No, we can't."

  Their decision made and spoken, T'yonnosh plotted a pursuit course and engaged the Ti 
Phorus' engines at factor 7.6, her top cruising speed.

  Only ten minutes into the new leg of their journey, he reported that they had passed the 
marker/sensor buoys that were deployed along Dhewa' s border.  Redics' only reaction 
was a slight nod.

  A mere eight minutes after that, T'yonnosh's browline rose.  "Redics, the sensors have 
picked up a ship, dead ahead."

  Redics frowned.  "They *didn't go back into hyperspace?"  He thought about the 
implications for a second, then asked, "What's their heading?"

  "They're not moving."

  "Then perhaps they've already made a rendezvous with someone," Redics thought aloud, 
disturbed at the idea.

  After working to coax a solid reading from the failing sensors, T'yonnosh confirmed 
what he had first suspected.  "It's not the cargo ship."

  "What?  What is it, then?"

  The sensors wouldn't sharpen no matter what T'yonnosh tried.  "I'm not sure.  But it's 
bigger.  And it's armed."  He consulted nav briefly.  "Thirty seconds to intercept."

  Redics swore quietly.  "We can't just breeze by them.  Take us out of hyperspace."  As 
the ship dropped into realspace he considered raising the shields.  He quickly realized 
how dangerous such a move on their part would be.

  The ship they saw sitting a kilometer off their bow was quite large compared to their 
own, at least 15 times the mass.  Its design was rather primitive but still impressive in its 
own way.  It had been built along the same lines as the ICCN's first interstellar cruisers; a 
bulky main body, heavily armored with a centralized command center for protection.

  Extending horizontally from the body and looking like after-construction add-ons, 
which they might have been, were two struts with hyperdrive engine nacelles attached.

  Unlike the ICCN's first cruisers, this beast fairly bristled with its creator's best weapons.  
At such close range, the sensors had no trouble locating the cruiser's six laser turrets.  
Although these were no match for the Ti Phorus' superior shielding, its single plasma 
cannon would pose a problem.

  What bothered Redics the most were the dozen remote guided missiles nestled within 
an extending launch platform that was currently retracted against the ship's hull.  The 
missiles were small, but nuclear tipped.  If they were hit with one, it might flood the 
shields with more radiation than they could handle.

  "I've got its transponder code," said T'yonnosh.  "Dheway registry, a patrol cruiser.  No 
name designation."

  Redics made an unhappy noise.  "I think we had better tread softly around this one."

  The cruiser hailed them.

  "Maybe they know something useful," T'yonnosh suggested as Redics reached to open 
the channel.  The human shook his head and replied, "I'm not willing to trust anyone yet."

  Once contact was established, the two got a good look at the bridge of the Dheway 
cruiser.  They could see two distinct clusters of people, each containing three or four 
individuals who never seemed to be more than a step away from each other.

  The group nearest the video pickup was centered around a lavishly dressed person.  
Long strips of a satiny material were tied to a finely wrought silver collar circling his (or 
her) neck.  Gold and copper bangles chimed gently on the left wrist.  Most notable were 
the military standards tattooed in vivid colors on the fleshy cheeks, identical to the 
markings on the hull of the ship.

  While the individual draped with Dheway finery appeared to be the captain of the 
vessel, it was someone else who spoke.  With a well- coordinated shuffling of round, 
stubby bodies, one of the underlings moved to the front of the group.  He (she?) stood 
almost, but not quite, between the captain and the video pickup.  Clawed hands slipped 
into view through strips of material less vibrant than the captain's.  Waving his hands 
slowly while grunting and huffing and groaning through closed lips, the spokesman made 
his announcement.

  "This is the command group of the Dheway heavy patrol cruiser number one-seven-one.  
I am First Voice for Vessel Master Falsthiphra.  You are now within the boundaries of 
the Dhewa Compact."  The First Voice drew his hands back under his clothes and 
paused, perhaps for drama's sake.  "Why are you here?"

  Redics turned slightly toward T'yonnosh and gave a short nod before taking a breath 
and doing his utmost to snow Falsthiphra's First Voice.

  With an anemic smile and his most ingratiating voice, the one he saved for people who 
had him at gunpoint, Redics explained how they had been suffering computer problems 
that had resulted in a failure of their navigational systems.  As Redics spun his story, 
T'yonnosh ran several scans of the ship and the surrounding area.  First, though, he cut 
the power to nav to give his partner' s story credibility.

  Several beats of silence trailed after Redics' excuses.  Then the command group began 
shuffling and grunting, most of which seemed to be directed at the captain.  The captain 
groan-snorted a response, and First Voice wobbled to the front again.

  "Do you need assistance?"

  T'yonnosh noticed that, while the Ti Phorus' translator didn't use painfully high 
frequencies to broadcast, it also didn't seem to be assigning much inflection, either.  He 
wondered if this was natural or another result of the Ti Phorus' injured computers.

  Redics glanced over at T'yonnosh, who had one hand laying on the Board, palm up and 
fingers slightly curled.  It was a signal between them to signify that T'yonnosh did not yet 
have all the information they needed.  A flat, open hand meant,  'I have nothing yet,' 
while a closed fist said, 'I have it.'

  "Actually," Redics directed himself back to the First Voice, "there is something you 
could do for us.  You see, we think we could get our dead reckoning system to function if 
we had accurate coordinates to start with.  So could you perhaps, uhh...tell us what our 
current coordinates are?  Exactly?"

  There was more shuffling, more grunting.  When First Voice came to the front again, he 
seemed reserved.  He didn't wave his arms or sway slightly as he had before.   "We will 
give you these coordinates with the understanding that unless you have verifiable 
business within the Dheway Compact, you will leave Compact space immediately."

  "Oh, yes,"  Redics nodded vigorously.  "I assure you, we'll be gone just as soon as we 
can."

  There was a pause on the Dheway side that made Redics wonder if he had said 
something offensive to them.  Both the command group and the other stood as still as 
stones.  Eventually, First Voice said, "Very well.  Transmitting coordinates."

  A string of numbers showed up on the Ti Phorus' datachannel display.

  "Wonderful," Redics beamed.  He looked again to his partner.  "Did that do the trick?" 
he asked.

  T'yonnosh made a fist.

  "Ah, it seems we now have everything we need."  Redics bowed from the waist, having 
no idea what such a gesture meant to Dheway.  "We thank you for your help.  A good 
journey to you."  Without waiting for a response, he closed the channel.

  Before Redics could ask the question, T'yonnosh said, "They're not here."

  Redics closed his eyes and sighed.  "What'd you find?"

  "The only trails here are ours, theirs, and the sublight trail we followed.  The sublight 
trail ends here and there is no debris to suggest the freighter was destroyed.  The cruiser," 
T'yonnosh glanced at the forward screen and the ship in question, "has a large cargo bay, 
and there is something in it, but the freighter was only 25 meters shorter than the cruiser, 
so it's not there."  He paused to emphasize his next words.  "The object in their cargo bay 
is about the same size as that life pod we saw on the freighter."

  Redics' eyes opened.  He studied his friend's expression, looking for a sign of hope.  He 
didn't see one.  "Non-Dheway on the freighter?"

  "There aren't any," T'yonnosh confirmed.

  "We've been led astray," Redics said coldly.

  "Or they're dead," T'yonnosh added softly.

  After considering that possibility, Redics shook his head.  "No.  What's the point of 
dragging them out here just to kill them?"

  "What now?"

  "We do what the Dheway said.  We leave."  He pointed to the nav functions on 
T'yonnosh's side of the Board.  "Take us back to where the hyperdrive signature ended.  
We must have missed something."

  The Ti Phorus winked out, leaving the cruiser behind in the dark.

  **************************

  When they arrived at the area where the hyperdrive signature had broken off, the 
partners found they had another problem to cope with.  The remaining sensor array was 
degrading quickly with each minute they used it.  If they tried to scan the entire area for 
further clues, the sensors would fail long before the sweep was finished.

  "We'll have to be careful how we use them," Redics concluded.  "Find possible 
destinations and scan those vectors, rather than sweeping the area."

  T'yonnosh worked the nav functions again, looking for listings of nearby star systems or 
artificial habitations, space stations, orbiting platforms and such.  He quickly discovered 
the only two candidates.

  "There's a star system five light years away, one inhabited planet with a pre-industrial 
society.  The other system is much closer, but not very hospitable.  A decaying red giant 
throwing out huge amounts of radiation."

  T'yonnosh scanned in the direction of the two star systems.  He ran the sensors at full 
capacity for the few seconds needed to be certain of the results.  For his efforts, he was 
rewarded with an array that had only a minute or so of useful life, and a clearer picture of 
the freighter's disappearance.

  "I think I know where they went," T'yonnosh said.

  "You *think?" Redics asked.  "You didn't find them?"

  "No, but look."  T'yonnosh put the sensor data on the main screen.  "The further system, 
listed as Tisurisessa, is fifteen days away at the freighter's top speed.  It they were headed 
in that direction, we would have found them.  But the other system, AGC-2168, is only 
twelve hours from here at factor four.  They could easily have reached it.  And with all 
the radiation pulsing through that system, we might have missed them even with our 
sensors in perfect working order."

  Redics nodded.  "Mm.  You're right."  He gazed at the sensor data of AGC-2168, which 
didn't amount to much besides low frequency sensor echoes and smeared distortions.  "So 
what do we know about that system?"

  The file T'yonnosh found was small and out of date, but was the only information to be 
had.  According to it, star system AGC-2168 was wholly unremarkable.  It was comprised 
of the red giant and two planets keeping it company.  A brief study by a Alliance probe 
two decades ago had suggested the star may have harbored as many as three more planets 
in its youth.  Its lower mass had allowed it to grow rather than collapse as it aged.  It was 
only a thousand years or so from its death, when it would cease expanding and crush 
down to a neutron star.  After that, it would be a silent black beacon, sending out streams 
of x-rays to its heat- and radiation-blasted companions keeping watch from distant orbits.

  "Lousy place to hide," Redics noted.  "I wonder if that freighter has enough shielding."

  "I wonder if *we'll have enough shielding," T'yonnosh countered.

  "What are they at?"

  "Eighty eight percent."

  Redics grimaced.  "Well, there's really only one way to find out.  Plot us a course.  I'll 
dump our logs into the buoy.  We can drop it here to tell the *Alvarado where we've 
gone."  He glanced at the time elapsed chronometer T'yonnosh had displayed in the 
corner of the main screen.  Twenty six hours, ten minutes.  "And run the engines at 
maximum.  Those people have been waiting long enough."

  **************************

  The red giant at the center of AGC-2168 looked sick to T'yonnosh.  Its surface roiled 
and flared in some places as large tracts of its photosphere blew out into space while 
other areas were mottled and dark where the natural process of fusion was no longer able 
to reach the star's surface from its core.  It seemed to him to resemble the dying heart of 
an enormous beast.

  They brought the Ti Phorus into the system using the bulk of the unstable star to block 
their presence from the two planets.  They knew the best way for a ship with inadequate 
shielding to survive in a radiation saturated area was to fall into close orbit in the lee of a 
planet or moon.

  It was a good strategy, hiding in a relatively safe pocket, cloaked by a poisonous shroud 
of radiation.  Its very safety, however, made it a poor choice if one's enemy knew of your 
ship's presence within such a system.  It told him exactly where to look.

  Unfortunately for Redics and T'yonnosh, this knowledge was practically useless to 
them.  Without effective sensors they had no way to confirm the freighter actually was 
hiding behind one of the planets.  Ti Phorus and the freighter were blind to one another.

  "There has to be some way to spot them besides sticking our heads out the airlock," 
T'yonnosh said in frustration.

  "We could use the remote," Redics offered.  "I could tune the carrier to a frequency that-
"

  "The remote's gone, remember?" T'yonnosh corrected him.

  "Oh, yeah.  Del Tomusth vaporized it."  Redics subsided, chewing his lip again and 
thinking furiously.

  Zephanthus, who had been sitting quietly along the back wall of the cockpit for some 
time, spoke up.  "Send out one of the suits.  The ones for outside.  They have cameras in 
them."

  "Sorry, Zanth.  The cameras on those suits aren't powerful enough," Redics told him.  
He smiled.  "Besides, the one we had made for you was hard to come by.  We wouldn't 
want to just toss it...out-"  Redics' expression froze, his mouth open.

  "What?" asked T'yonnosh.

  "Cameras," Redics said softly.  He turned to his partner, a spark of revelation in his 
eyes.  "The cameras.  The Ti Phorus' old external solid cameras."

  "The solids?"  T'yonnosh's browline lowered.  "You got rid of those when they installed 
the sensor video link years ago."

  "Yes, I know," Redics nodded, then shook his head. "I mean, I tried to.  But there were 
two on the upper deck that I couldn't get out.  They were wedged into this impossible 
little space and I couldn't get my tools in to remove them.  So I disconnected them and 
welded panels over them.  But they're still there."

  T'yonnosh stared at him, his ears tipping forward slightly as hope returned.  "Those 
cameras had high-res capacity, didn't they?"

  "High-res, motion, thermal, and seven different radiation filters.  State of the art fifteen 
years ago," Redics confirmed.

  "I'll start setting up the protocols for the video link to process the camera's signal," 
T'yonnosh said, swinging around to the Board.

  "And I'll grab some tools and get those cameras on-line.  He slapped affectionately at 
Zanth's flank as he stood.  "Come on, Motorthroat.  I'm going to need your help."

  
**************************
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