F. M. Busby - Long View 6 - Alien Debt

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--THE--

ALIEN

DEBT

F. M. Busby

BANTAM BOOKS TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON • SYDNEY • AUCKLAND

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THE ALIEN DEBT

A Bantam Book I June 1984

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by

mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

For information address: Bantam Books, Inc.

ISBN 0-553-24176-1

Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words ''Bantam Books'' and the portrayal of a rooster, is

Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue, New York,

New York 10103.

P R I N T E D IN T H E U N I T E D ST A T E S OF A M E R I C A

H 0987654321

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To Laura, who sparked this book

I. Lisele ........................................... 1

II. Rissa ............................................4

HI. Elzh............................................13

IV. Tregare ........................................14

V. lvan............................................23

VI. Lisele..........................................31

VII. Elzh............................................44

VIII. Rissa...........................................45

IX. Elzh............................................68

X. Ivan............................................70

XI. Lisele..........................................86

XII. Ivan ..........................................104

XIII. Lisele ........................................112

XIV. Ivan ..........................................119

XV. Tregare.......................................125

XVI. Ivan ..........................................138

XVH. Lisele ........................................144

XVffl. Ivan ..........................................164

XIX. Lisele ........................................168

XX. Elzh ..........................................181

XXI. Ivan ..........................................182

XXII. Elzh ..........................................199

XXIII. Lisele ........................................200

XXIV. Rissa .........................................212

XXV. Lisele ........................................217

XXVI. Tregare.......................................219

XXVII. Lisele ........................................222

XXVIII. Elzh ..........................................225

I. Lisele

Introduction to "A Short Study

of How UET Gained and Lost Power Over the Planet Earth," a thesis for the 2nd Junior Degree by Liesel

Selene Moray, ages 8-1/2 bio and 18 chrono, approx.

In this paper written for Professor Diebolt's history department in the Junior University at Sancia Leckaby

Spaceport, I will try to cover everything important from when the United Energy and Transport

conglomerate won the sixth corporate bidding election and its Presiding Committee took over the rule of North

America, to the time when the space fleet headed by my father, Bran Tregare Moray, freed Earth and dissolved

UET's government.

UET controlled most of Earth from 2004 to 2103, and those weren't good years to live here. UET's

Committee Police were bullies and killers, and their Total Welfare centers were slave camps, Rissa Kerguelen,

my mother, was put into a Center when she was five (since she'd never left Earth, she had only one age) and was

there for eleven years, almost. Her brother Ivan Marchant, my uncle, was in there even longer. There are books that

explain about Total Welfare, and I've read two of them. But all you really need to know is that when

somebody was WeSfared, UET took over everything that person owned and owed, and put the "client" into big

barracks-type buildings where everybody wore jumpsuits and ate in messhalls. Male and female sections were

separate, and each had three divisions: Pre-pube, Post-pube, and Adult. Those last two would be sent out in work

gangs, but most of their pay went to UET; the clients did get a little bit credited to their Welfare accounts, and

the idea was that they could someday earn their way out of Welfare. But the way UET had it set up, nobody

really did. The way my mother got out was by

winning a big lottery prize. And the funny part was that she hadn't bought the ticket; her supervisor was

doing a crooked trick with Post-pube clients' credits and it backfired. That's all ! know about it because she

doesn't like to talk about Total Welfare much.

Another thing that began in 2004 was star travel. I think everybody knows by now that UET didn't

invent it. An alien ship came here, and UET killed the aliens and stole their ship and copied it. Then they sent

out colonies and did other things. But some ships Escaped and set up their own colonies which were called the

Hidden Worlds because UET didn't know where they were. When my father took Inconnu, the first armed ship

ever to Escape, UET called him "Tregare the Pirate." But you've seen on the Tri-V, I expect, how on the

planet Number One he got six ships together and went to take over UET's fortress world Stronghold, and

made a bigger fleet there and came back and took Earth away from UET. My mother helped, too. I was born on

Stronghold, which is why I have two ages and know firsthand what the Long View is all about.

The Long View has to do with relativity, when you ride a ship that gets up close to the speed of light. I

don't know the math yet (I get that next year, I think) but I do know that when we came from Stronghold to

Earth it took about six months by ship's time and close to ten years by any planet's time. So if you ride ships very

much, you have to keep the Long View in mind.

Those aliens that UET killed are called Shrakken; my parents have met some of them but I haven't.

Tregare, my father, captured a ship of theirs and made a deal to use it for a decoy when he went into

Stronghold. He gave me some pictures of them, which I will put in the Appendix to this paper.

We don't know much about the Shrakken; they are very strange. Sometimes they kill people, but my

mother says they don't do it on purpose, because they have to lay eggs in a living creature the same as digger

wasps do, and she likes them anyway. But when they lay eggs in people it kills the people. Caused trouble,

for a while.

I was too little to do any of it myself, of course, but my family and friends had a big part in getting rid

of UET's slave system. That's why a lot of them are on the Board of Trustees of Earth. There's Rissa and

Tregare, my parents. Then my dad's parents, Liesel Hulzein and Hawkman Moray. I'm named for Grandma

Liesel and for my other grandma, Selene Kerguelen, that UET killed when my mother was five. And there's

Mom's

brother Ivan Marchant and his mate Ilse Krueger, and my great-aunt Erika Hulzein who is Grandma Liesel's

older sister.

If you don't know about the Hulzein Establishment, which Erika merged with the rest of our government

last year, it was based on a parthenogenetic dynasty that lasted five generations, and was one of the few power

groups that managed to hold out against UET. Parthenogenetic means a mother having a daughter with no father.

It's not the same as cloning which never worked out very well, because the Hulzein method fertilizes one intact

ovum with the nucleus of another from the same person. I'm not sure why this works better, but the details are

outside the scope of this paper, anyway. However, my mother did this to have my baby sister Renalie, who is

enough younger than I am that we won't have to have sibling jealousy, since I'm practically a half-generation in

between her and my mother. My Grandma Liesel explained to me about that, and I'm glad she did, because

Renaile is really a very nice baby.

There are quite a few more Trustees but for most of the list I think I'll wait and tell about them when they

come in the main thesis. Except for why they belong on the Board. It's not a hard and fast thing, but several were

ship's captains for Tregare when he took Stronghold and then squadron commanders in the fight for Earth.

Tregare goes with people who do good work.

That's true of the new Trustee; you saw on the Tri-V about the appointment, probably. Derek Limmer, with

the scarred face-he and his wife Feicie Parager stayed behind to run Stronghold for Tregare and only came to

Earth this year on one of the new Hoyfarul faster-than-light ships. Their son Arlen was my best friend on

Stronghold and he used to be my same bio-age, nearly, but now he's nine years older because he stayed on

Stronghold while Tregare's fleet chewed time. And then coming to Earth by FTL, Arlen didn't put much

difference to his two ages. It seems strange, but that's the Long View for you.

There are a lot of other important people but as I said, I can tell about them when the time comes. Now I

should end this introduction and get on with the main body of my thesis.

Note to Professor Diebolt: The main report, I'm afraid, will have to wait until we get back. I mean, the new

armed FTL ship Inconnu Deux is going down-arm toward the galaxy itself, to help the Shrakken against some

enemy that won't stop to talk; they only attack.

Some of the Board didn't see why we should go help the Shrakken, but Tregare says it's only common sense.

That if these

other aliens wipe out the Shrakken, we could be next. And Rissa, my mother, swung the Board vote by

pointing out that if it weren't for the Shrakken we wouldn't even have star travel, because UET stole it from

them. So we owe them, she says, and I think she's right. Also when she says that humans and Shrakken have killed

each other, one way or another: "And that book is balanced; let us close it."

So Inconnu Deux is being readied to go down-arm. I don't know just when, but soon.

Rissa and Tregare aren't sure whether I'm going with them. But I am.

II Rissa

Drying her long, dark hair, Rissa

Kerguelen studied the tentative roster of Inconnu Deux. About a quarter the number she was used to: in a

standard hull, Pennet Hoyfanil's FTL drive left much less room for quarters and supplies. Luckily, increased

automation allowed the smaller crewing.

For a moment, Rissa frowned. It would be good to travel again with her brother, Ivan Marchant, but why

wasn't his mate, Ilse Krueger, coming along? Trouble between those two? Since Ilse's disfigurement during the

battle for Earth, her stability had sometimes been cause for worry.

No problem about the Kobolak twins, Anders and Dacia; those two had joined Tregare at Stronghold.

Anders was bringing his wife, Alina Rostadt; Dacia remained persistently unattached.

Arlen Limmer: every time Rissa saw the young man she thought of how his father might look, without

the terrible scars from UET's Space Academy. And Derek had incurred those scars when he was younger

than Arlen was now.

Haskell Ornaway? Oh, yes! The ambush by misled cadets, when she and Tregare went to "civilize" the

Academy. The boy

who stood cradling a broken arm and asked the chance to redeem himself. Well, he'd made it.

She scanned down the list, finding no more familiar names. Two dozen adults, then, in all. Plus, despite

Tregare's misgivings, young Lisele and her parthenogeneiic half-sister, Renalle.

And, of course, Stonzai the Shrakken.

Hair coiled and piled high, Rissa stood and stretched. At the bio-age of twenty-eight, probably she could use

more exercise, but she still looked and felt trim. If she'd changed much in the past five years, since the retaking of

Earth, she couldn't detect it. Of course if she'd never left Earth, she'd be eighty now. Yes, there was something to

be said for having two ages!

The door opened and Tregare entered. "Bran. You are home early." With their two decimeters difference in

height, she was accustomed to stretching a little to kiss.

Lovemaking of late had been scarce. After Rissa's slow recovery from Renalle's difficult birth, pressure of

work and social obligations had been intrusive. Especially now, with the preparations for Inconnu Deux's

mission. So Rissa did not misread the messages of Tregare's eyes and hands. "There is time?"

"Should be." And on this occasion came none of the vagrant pangs left over from parturition; Rissa's cry of

triumph came unbidden, as though someone else had made it. Then she lay relaxed.

Sitting up, Tregare grinned. "Back to your best, eh?"

"Or near to it. And, Bran-thank you for your patience." As they dressed, she said, "Bran? Does Stonzai come

here alone for your meeting tonight, or with other Shrakken?"

"One other. Her mate: Sevshen, I think the name is. Hasn't much English, Stonzai reports, but is working on

it. Stonzai, now-she came onscreen for a minute when Dacia called from the port-Stonzai claims she's studied the

tapes you gave her back on Stronghold. But she still piles all her verbs in one place a lot."

Rissa smiled. Yes, the Shrakken leader had always given English a rather Germanic syntax, not easy to

understand. But still, Rissa looked forward to seeing the alien again, and this evening's gathering would provide

the occasion.

In preparation for that planning session, Tregare left to check the computer terminal and holographic

projector that were

newly installed in the dining area. Rissa went to see to her infant daughter, and found Renalle just waking. The

weaning medication would stop Rissa's milk soon, so while they could, mother and daughter might as well

enjoy the intimacy of feeding. Soon, making little sounds of contentment, the baby nuzzled. When she was

satisfied, Rissa played with her until renewed signs of drowsiness appeared, then called the nurse from the next

room. "Tonight it must be bottle feeding, for once the meeting begins I cannot count on getting free of it."

The woman nodded, and Rissa decided to look in on her older daughter. Entering Lisele's room, Rissa

wondered why the child's choice of furnishings gave such an unchildlike effect. At any rate there would be no

greetings or discussion now, for the girl sat crosslegged before her biofeedback console, obviously in the semi-

trance "alpha state." Well, the regimen seemed to be relieving tensions from the competitive pressures of the

Junior University. As Rissa watched, Lisele breathed evenly and deeply.

Her dark, wavy hair, currently rather short, set off her pale skin well. Tall for her age, she'd grow to be

taller-though not so tall, Rissa hoped, as the twenty decimeters of Tregare's father, Hawkman Moray. Tregare's

eighteen, she decided, wouldn't be too bad....

Turning to leave, she saw a sheet of readout trailing from Lisele's computer terminal, and gave it a

quick look. Yes; the child was revising her thesis-introduction. Rissa smiled, then nodded: Lisele had her

facts reasonably straight and clearly stated.

She checked her chronometer. As she had expected, it was time to rejoin Tregare.

She found him arranging potables at the small bar, set to one side of the dining area. Across that room

sat the electronic gear he had come to inspect; presumably he was satisfied with it.

Now he glanced up and saw her. "Come have a drink. There's time to talk a little." Since Renalle's birth

she had only recently resumed use of any alcohol at all; the mixture he poured for her was quite dilute.

Sitting in adjacent, padded bar chairs, they clinked glasses and sipped. "Thank you. Yes-the Deux roster.

You list only names, nothing of rankings or positions."

He nodded. "Well, you won't know the Engineering people; they're mostly new to space. All trained

with Hoyfanil's FTL group but only one of them has two ages." She waited, and he said, "Control officers,

then. You're my First Hat, of course,

and I like Anders Kobolak for Second." Rissa made to speak, but Tregare said, "Third, now-you remember a kid

named Mask Ornaway?"

"Yes, after checking the name on computer. The ambush- and I am glad he has turned out well. But I do not

understand-"

"You object to him?"

She shook her head. "No. But my brother Ivan-"

"What about him? He's coming with us; you agreed to that."

"Tregare! Ivan Marchant was Ilse's First Hat on GrafSpee, and then Coordination officer for Falconer

squadron. Yet now you give him no Hat at all? Is he to serve as a rating, under an untried boy like Ornaway?"

"Easy." One hand warded off her urgency. "Ivan's my Gunnery chief, rank roughly equal to First Hat but

outside the Hats' chain of command, answering directly to me. For the fancy turret setup you designed, I think

that's a full-time job."

Her eyes narrowed. "Outside the command-chain, you say. Yet he will answer not only to yourself. Any Hat

who happens to be watch officer can call him to account."

Tregare's fist thumped the bar. "As my representative, sure. Same as the Chief Engineer takes orders, no

matter who calls from Control. I don't see any problem."

Rissa paused. "Why, Bran? And you know what I mean."

Slowly, he nodded. "All right. In the battle for Earth, Ivan broke. Cut loose from his duties and went all-out

after Admiral Ozzie Newhausen."

"And got him. Do not forget that."

His hand sliced air. "Got him, sure. But dumped every squadron responsibility, right in the middle of

combat, to do it. No, Rissa. I value Ivan and you know that-but I want him where his skills will help and any lack

of discipline can't hurt." Briefly, he grinned. "For his backup, I've assigned Dacia Kobolak."

Anger ebbing, Rissa said, "I cannot argue, Bran-though I wish I could." Her other thought, that Ivan's

willingness to leave Ilse behind might be a trouble sign, she did not mention.

The afternoon's first arrival was Dacia Kobolak's scoutship. These small spacecraft, ordinarily carried by the

fleet's full-sized ships, did not have interstellar range but found use in and near planetary systems-or as

emergency lifeboats. They were de-

signed to accommodate twelve passengers-but from this one, only a pair of aliens followed Dacia down the

ramp.

Reaching ground, the sturdy redhaired woman still led the way. Behind her the tall, thin Shrakken, each

wearing only a sort of harness hung with bulging pouches, came with their toe-dancing gait. Unlike bears or

humans, Shrakken were not plantigrade. As Tregare put it, "The heel is a hock; that's where the extra height is."

And indeed they were tall-at least the equal of Hawkman Moray. The taller one, Rissa recognized-squinting

against dust raised by the landing-as her old acquaintance Stonzai, commander of Sharanj, the ship Tregare

had captured on Number One so long ago. Commander wasn't quite the correct term among Shrakken, Rissa

knew, but close enough. Now she noticed that Stonzai's ocher skin was brighter than her companion's, its

brownish clown-markings more clearly defined.

Closer now, Rissa saw eyelids blink horizontally across the black triangular eyes, each surmounted by a

stubby pair of tendrils. The inverted-V mouth made what Rissa knew to be the equivalent of a smile. Passing

Dacia with a quick, one-armed hug, Rissa moved to meet the Shrakken. "Stonzai!" and as when they had

parted on Stronghold, each reached out fingers to touch the other's forehead.

Head moving in the Shrakken way that was neither nod nor shake, Stonzai spoke. "Again meet we; I to do

so had not thought. But when in space we to Limmer talk, says he safe it is, us here to come; those here who

Shrakken killed, now not rule. True, this is?"

"Yes, Stonzai. And-" She paused; it struck her that the other Shrakken had said nothing. And Tregare also

stood quietly, as if uncertain. Rissa said, "Stonzai, do you remember Bran Tregare?"

"Remember, yes." Stonzai moved toward him, and without hesitation Tregare returned the forehead touch.

Turning to her companion, the Shrakken said, "Sevshen, now also must you," and when the other did not move,

spoke in their own language. Then Sevshen, too, came to both humans and exchanged the touch. Rissa's

relieved sigh surprised her; she led the group indoors.

Surveying the dining area's golden-brown walls and glittering ceiling, Stonzai hissed approval. Tregare moved

to the bar, and suddenly Rissa realized she had no idea whether Shrakken used alcohol. She opened a bottle and

sniffed at it, then passed it to

Stonzai. Again she'd forgotten something; Shrakken had no visible nostrils. But Stonzai, holding the bottle near

her open mouth, inhaled with a whooshing noise. Then she handed the liquor back. "I not this use."

Tregare shrugged. Before Rissa could think of anything to say, Stonzai pointed to the array of other bottles.

"These, not have ! try. Different, they be?"

With a grin, Tregare said, "Different flavors, same principle;" his gesture welcomed her to sample further,

and she did, opening one bottle after another and whooshing at it. Three she set aside, but the next-a brandy-she

handed to Tregare.

"This I use." But before he could pour from it she said, "Do you, wait," and methodically she worked

through the entire lot, approving only a few. "These, good are." Curious as to the alien's criteria, Rissa peered at

the bottles and found her answer: grape versus grain. Brandy, cordials and most wines, Stonzai approved;

whiskeys, rums, rice wine, she rejected. Mentally shrugging, she watched Tregare do the honors; without asking,

he added ice to the spirits and handed glasses to the two aliens. They sipped, and each gave a short hiss.

For Rissa and himself he set up bourbon and ice, lightening hers with water, then said, "Let's sit down, shall

we?"

Human-built chairs did not fit Shrakken very well, but a low divan seemed to suit them. And now Rissa

spoke. "Tell us, Stonzai, about your enemies."

From down the galactic Arm the Tsa came. How far? Stonzai didn't know. How long since they had first

appeared? The Shrakken's considerable time in space, shrinking time near light-speed, did not help Rissa guess at

the period involved.

When Tsa came upon Shrakken they killed them, or did their Tsa best in the attempt. After the first meeting,

no parleys, only attack. Tsa ships, said Stonzai, were comparable to human or Shrakken: in size, power,

acceleration, and turning ability. So with the Shrakken's "home field" advantage of shorter supply lines, the first

and second waves of Tsa attacks had been beaten off. Losses, yes. "Ships where all Shrakken dead were, or

lacking minds were." But no major damage to Shrakken planets.

Then, after a lapse of time indeterminate to Rissa if not to Stonzai also, a third and greater assault had

come. And that one had nearly succeeded. "Whole worlds, dead are. Or, like blind animals, remaining

Shrakken crawl, and for roots dig." Stonzai blinked. "For food, to find. More good, I think, dead to be."

"Yes," said Tregare. "From what you say, Stonzai, I have to agree." The temperature was mild, but

sweat beads stood on his forehead.

To Rissa the point was clear. As Derek Limmer had reported, after meeting in space the Shrakken ship

that then brought Stonzai to Earth, one more Tsa attack wave might well finish the Shrakken, might disrupt

their civilization past rebuilding.

Tsa weapons? Tregare asked it. According to Stonzai, the Tsa's gunnery was more potent than

Shrakken but less so than what she'd seen of Tregare's. At Stronghold he'd given Stonzai samples of the

latter, for good will. But what with travel times-the Long View-the Shrakken could hardly have duplicated

many by now.

The mind weapon, though-and now Rissa listened closely, for here seemed to be the crux of the

danger. Leaning forward, holding the empty glass that Tregare wasn't alert to fill, Stonzai said, "Close

enough the Tsa come, and like claws in the mind they reach. Of it, die, some do; others, to ship's danger,

wrongly act. Tsa strikes, not the own self you be." She made a crooning groan. "What they do, to fight

against, none can."

Frowning, Tregare asked, "How close, before their mind gadget gets to you?" In human-Shrakken

communications, translation of quantities had never been a strong point, but after a time Rissa decided that

the mind weapon's range had to be slightly greater than that of Tsa or Shrakken gunnery-somewhat less,

therefore, than Inconnu Deux's turrets could muster.

She said as much; Tregare shook his head. "The grade of approximation we have here, that's no real

handle." At Rissa's frown, he added, "No, our one edge is FTL, the Hoyfarul Drive we're taking to

Stonzai's people. Without that, considering the distances, we'd be pretty useless as allies." And thinking the

matter over, Rissa had to agree.

Stonzai produced one other datum: Tsa was the enemy's own name for its species, not a Shrakken

coinage. But how this fact had become known, Stonzai could not explain.

On that subject the discussion ended. And then other guests began arriving.

As house staff relieved Rissa and Tregare from bartending and serving duties, the two took station to

greet-informally- the new arrivals. Many of these Rissa did not know; her work dealt with coordination,

while some now present worked with other Board members in their own specialties. But in the greet-

ings Tregare dropped hints to tell Rissa what those specialties were.

As her brother Ivan approached with Ilse Krueger, Tregare said, "That's about the lot. You want to go pump

those two, and ease your mind, feel free."

Smiling her thanks, Rissa faced the newcomers. Ilse Krueger showed few visible signs of her old injuries; the

small woman moved like a young girl. Her blonde hair, chin length and curly, hid most of the scar that ran from

mouth corner past where her left ear had been, up into the scalp. The thin white line no longer pulled her mouth

askew. But Rissa knew the hair covered scar tissue that closed the former earhole; Ilse was half deafened. One touch

of a heat beam did it; her survival was sheer luck.

First the handshakes and polite words; then Rissa took each by a hand. "Come, let us have drinks, and talk."

Grinning, teeth glinting against his pale skin, her brother pushed back a lock of dark hair. "You mean, ask

questions."

"That, too." And when the three found drinks and sat down, Rissa began. "Inconnu Deux will be out a long

time. What is wrong, that you agree to such an indefinite separation?"

"Well, it's just-"

"The trouble is-"

Speaking together, then Ilse and Ivan smiled at each other and explained in turn. As the Board's trouble-

shooter, Ivan was away from home more than not. But groundside, usually-whereas Ilse, in charge of combat training

programs on the cadet ships, was in space quite often. "We're apart so much," said Ilse, "that we can never settle

differences. All we do is tippy-toe around everything, to avoid argument." And Ivan nodded.

"So the answer," said Rissa, "is to be together not at all?"

"Trial separation," said Ivan. "Then maybe-"

"And meanwhile," Ilse put in, "it won't hurt either of us to be free people for a time."

Ivan shook his head. "No, Ilse. I've said it before; you be free if you wish, but it's not for me." He stood and

walked to the bar. His stride, Rissa thought, would not encourage anyone to get in his way.

Ilse turned the talk to Inconnu Deux and kept it there. Well, the smallest person ever to survive UET's Space

Academy had to be rather stubborn. Then it was time for dining-and the long discussions, buttoning up the needs of

Inconnu Deux.

Hagen Trent, the ship's chief engineer, impressed Rissa. Young for his rank but balding early, his enthusiasm

matched his

obvious intelligence. He had studied directly under Pennet Hoyfarul, and after a tour in space he hoped to work

in the improvement of FTL-drive design. His hand brushed the bulky curly fringe of his remaining hair.

"We're still in the first phases. A few more years-" Then the man's female companion needed his attention,

and he was led off toward the snack buffet.

Rissa's glass was empty; she strolled to the bar. A distinctive bottle attracted her attention-berry brandy

from the planet Far Corner. She pointed, and the young attendant poured her three centimeters of the ruddy

amber fluid. Sipping the tart flavor, she remembered-one-armed Bret Osallin, killed so long ago in Peralta's

mutiny, had first offered her this drink. So long ago...

The lights blinked-Tregare's signal that business would commence-and Rissa brought her mind from

Far Corner to Earth.

With considerable juggling of dials but less swearing than Rissa expected, Tregare got the holographic

projector stabilized. Then, on the computer keyboard he punched combinations. In the dimly lit end of the

big room a belt of white stars appeared.

His hand moved; one star turned green. "Us," he said. More movement, and a group of stars, spread

among others that were unaffected, glowed a darker orange. "The Shrakken suns. Not entirely accurate, I

expect, but the best info we have." Another touch, and two lights went red. One, the nearer to Earth,

blinked. Tregare pointed. "Shaarbant, that one. Peripheral to the main volume of Shrakken space, and a

good place to refuel on our way to Stenevo, their major world," and he pointed to the other red star.

"The distances we're talking about-well, more than half the width of our galactic Arm, and down it a

little less than that. We and the Shrakken, both, have expanded more along the arm than across it.

Shaarbant's closer to us than any other Shrakken world. So that's where we go first."

Beside him, Stonzai said something Rissa did not hear. Tregare nodded and made another adjustment;

now several of the orange lights began to blink. "These, mostly toward the inner-arm side of Shrakken

space, are the ones the Tsa have attacked." Nearly half, Rissa saw, of the Shrakken total. Tregare touched

more keys, and four of the blinking stars dimmed. "Dead worlds," he said. "Killed by the Tsa."

He looked to Stonzai, but the alien gave no further sign.

Tregare stepped back from the terminal. "For now, I guess that's all the briefing." But then there were questions,

and he answered them; the meeting lasted another hour.

Three days later, Inconnu Deux was on its way.

///. Elzh

Long, now, since Elzh with seven ships left dear homeworld. Long

enough to crass much of space shown on the Tsa-Drin chart, passing wide of mindbeast planets that

knew the Tsa. Scouts had found new beastworids; these the Tsa-Drin had charted for Elzh to study,

and if possible, to destroy. As correct, as understood. To learn, then to obey.

From when Tsa first met beasts, Tsa must fight-Tsa ships against beastworids, lest beast ships

come to Tsa worlds. Since beasts gave Tsa no peace, then beasts must die-though the toll, in Tsa

minds and Tsa lives, was frightful.

But, to obey. Seven ships and the Tsa-Drin chart, and only a few more cycles to the new

beastworld. To obey.

But now, to gather. Freeing thought, Elzh began mind-say.

In the nest. Grouped with Idsath and Tserln, mindsay soft and murmurous, Elzh felt warmly

indling. Nothing to hurt, as always between Tsa. Except-until their sex-progression stabilized, Elzh's

incomplete maleness gave irritation, an itch without satisfaction. No matter (Idsath); soon. Fully ready

as moderator, Idsath-to accept and blend Elzh's genes and Tserln's, and return them to Tserln for

fruition. Had the Tsa-Drin plan allowed for increase, all of that would happen. Now, though, the first

stages, in themselves ecstatic, could not go on to completion. Tserln, when wholly female, would bear

that frustration of deep Tsa instinct.

As you accepted it (Tserln, to the unworded thought), shall

I, also. Touching as fully as now might be, the three shared warmth.

Then time to leave the nest, to share food instead, and with others of the crewing. Still, touching could be,

but lesserly-as correct, as understood. Mindsay, with so many together, was slower-each giving much quiet

between sayings.

Even so, dread of beastworld grew in Elzh's thought. To mindsay the fear would lessen it, but Elzh did

not.

IV. Tregare

.Eighty hours from Earth, the Deux

passed light-speed; Bran Tregare shrugged in relief. It wasn't that he distrusted the Hoyfarul Drive, but after all,

he'd grown up believing in Einstein. Not that the ship's ellipsoidal, coherent drive field, which shielded the

Deux from the effects of a hundred gees or more, contradicted "Saint Albert"-not exactly. Velocity still built

mass, but that mass appeared in parallel continua that held no other matter. "In fact," Doctor Hoyfarul had

once said, "it's possible that the drive creates those extra universes. I can't vouch for the idea, either way."

And when Tregare insisted that mass was still mass, and required force to accelerate it, Hoyfarul's

laugh shook the wattles at his throat. "In a continuum with all mass concentrated in one object," he said, "how

do you define acceleration? Or, for that matter, motion?"

Tregare laughed too, then, and gave up the argument. Now, with all die Deux's external sensors-except the gravitic

detectors- showing zerch, the ship was unmistakably outpacing light. But it wasn't chewing time, or not by much;

in FTL travel the "Long View," the passage of years while the ship experienced only months, was not a

factor. Not much of one, anyway. There was still a residual second-order effect in the "home" continuum, but it

was logarithmic and grew very slowly. At their top speed for

this voyage-about 120 lights, Hoyfarul had estimated it-time-dilation would only briefly exceed three-to-one. As

compared, Tregare reflected, to the twenty-to-one average for STL runs. No, this time-on a run of about one

year, subjective-his two ages wouldn't diverge much farther.

Satisfied, he nodded to his watch officer, Anders Kobolak, and left Control. Boots clattering on the stairs,

he headed downship. About now, he figured, Rissa would be feeding baby Renalle. In case she might like some

coffee, after, he stopped by the galley. Ivan Marchant, sitting with Dacia Kobolak, waved a hand. "Bran! Have

we passed light yet?"

"Surest thing you know." Tregare filled a small carafe with coffee. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to having

most of ray instruments go dead, this side of C."

"I know," said Ivan. "I was on Hoyfarul's first test flight; remember? But our inside sensors, the inertial

ones, do integrate thrust measurements and give us valid course vectors."

"And speed and position, and maybe what's for breakfast next," Tregare said. "It all works; yeah. But still-"

In his own voice he heard the plaintive note. "I do miss the hell out of my old Inconnu!" He held up the carafe.

"I'll get this down to Rissa."

He found Rissa closing her blouse and beginning bottle-feeding. "I am nearly dry now, Bran, but still she

likes to test me."

"Smart baby." Wordless signals set him to pouring coffee for Rissa and himself. He said, "You check the

freeze-chambers lately?"

"Yes. Stonzai and Sevshen both seem stable; though Dacia felt unsure of dealing with the Shrakken

metabolism, it appears she has done well." The problem had been the onset of Stonzai's ovulation. The ship

carried no host animals for her voracious larvae, and now, after repeated use, the anti-ovulation drag caused

increasing side effects. So freeze was the only reasonable answer-and since Sevshen understood little human

speech, he joined his mate in cryogenic stasis rather than remaining awake and isolated.

"Right." Then Tregare had another thought. "Let's turn the freeze-chamber checkup over to the comm-tech

of each watch, should we? I mean, with the outside circuits dead, up here above light, those people haven't much

else to do." Rissa nodded agreement.

The Deux's freezers had features new to Tregare; for one thing they could double as emergency acceleration

tanks, with or without the freezing function. Sure as peace, he thought, progress sometimes did complicate

things!

Hunger satisfied, the baby pushed the bottle aside. Rissa burped her, cuddled her, and put her down for

sleep. As Tregare poured warmups for their coffee, Rissa sat. She said, "Our timing and position, Bran. Are

there enough data yet, to check Hoyfarul's estimates?"

He spread his hands. "Not for certain sure. We have better accel than the earlier FTL ships. Time ratio,

though-now we've passed light, there's no way to check it. But going by what we do have, I think the curve's

flatter than the doc predicted."

Rissa nodded. "Then the difference between any person's two ages here will increase less than we had

thought." Her brows raised. "As of now, how do the figures look?"

"Guessy." Too much coffee had Tregare's nerves on edge. A drugstick would have helped, but he and

Rissa didn't smoke those when Renalle or Lisele were around to breathe the stuff. The sticks weren't harmful; a

doctor at the Junior University had suggested Lisele use them for her tension problems. But Rissa and Tregare

had misgivings about putting so young a child on a chemical crutch, and now, of course, she didn't need it. Too

bad, Tregare thought, he couldn't make biofeedback work for him. Shrugging, he poured himself a short drink.

First today.

He thought back to Rissa's question. "Our time to Shaarbant, maybe a subjective year. If our data's accurate-not

to mention, if I figured it right-we use up about two-and-a-half years, groundside time, getting there."

Her eyes widened. "So many? Then, even without the shorter trip on to Stenevo, if that is needed, or any

consideration of time spent groundside on either world, by Earth's clocks we shall be gone at least five years. Ilse

and Ivan-she is not young, Bran!"

Tregare sighed. "If you don't know what makes those two tick, how could I? Maybe they're pfft and this is

the polite way out."

"No. Ivan told her, she might consider herself free if she chose, but he would not do the same. I-"

Wanting out of a problem that gave him no handle on it, Tregare interrupted. "They married freestyle.

What Ivan does, or doesn't, is his own business. But if he doesn't, I miss my guess." While he had the floor,

he added, "Ilse isn't all that old.

Maybe eight years, she has on Ivan. You think a few more are going to bother him all that much?"

Obviously unsure, Rissa frowned. "When we were taken to Welfare I was five, and Ivan eight. But since

then, it has been as though I were the elder, to worry about him."

A way out of this, maybe:' 'He had it rough. Any place in UET was a good place to keep your head down. You

did, by instinct. Ivan was just at the age when he couldn't. And suffered for it."

She nodded. "Perhaps you are right. And in no case will it profit me, to worry so far into our subjective

future years."

Well, now. Off the hook. And then Lisele came to tend her sister while her parents went to the galley for

dinner.

Three weeks later Tregare reran Haskell Omaway's astrogation figures through the computer. The tall young

man, running fingers over his close-cut blond hair, looked anxious. "Did I get it right?"

"Seems so." However accurate the measuring systems were, they were all the ship had. In theory, inertial

instruments measured thrust, along-course or lateral, and integrated the cumulative effect with respect to time.

Tinhead, the computer, gave results in terms of velocity and ship's position.

There was a fudge factor: the frictional coefficient of the "interstellar gas." Either it varied or it didn't. But

within limits of error, the Deux's position as determined by inertial means checked with gravitic detection of

landmark stars. So Tregare said, "We came out with the same answers, anyway."

Visibly, Omaway relaxed. "Sir-Tregare, I mean-were you as nervous, your first trip, as I am?"

Tregare snorted. "Me? With Butcher Korbeith commanding, and every few days lining up all the cadets

naked and maybe thumbing one of us to be spaced out the airlock? Nervous? I was scared shitless the whole

time."

Face reddened, the boy's gaze dropped. "I'm sorry. I should have thought. It's only-"

Tregare gripped the other's shoulder. " 'sail right, Hask. Don't mind an old-timer's stories. And you're doing

fine." He took one more scan of the monitors, decided they weren't telling him anything new, and left Control.

Thinking: Yes, the kid's shaping up into a good capable Third Hat.

Ambling downship, Tregare mused. The trouble with FTL travel was no input, to keep the mind interested.

On the ship's

monitors, nothing from outside except the gravitic readings. No possibility of signals from another ship, not that

any others were apt to be in this part of space. Why, it was almost as bad as riding cargo!

Heading for quarters he passed the galley and looked in. Seeing Rissa at a table with her brother Ivan,

Dacia Kobolak and Arlen Limmer, he got himself a cold beer and joined them. "How's it shake?"

Looking a little tense, as he often did, Ivan Merchant shrugged. Rissa said, "Now that only the drive

room has any real work to do, we are running out of diversions. I know the Shrakken data tapes by heart. If

only Stonzai were not in freeze! Then we could talk, at least, in search of new information."

Arlen Limmer didn't look bored. At seventeen the swarthy youngster, still thin and gawky, had matched his

father's height. He said, "I've got so much to learn, it keeps me busy. Navigation, comm-panels-for when there's

someone to talk with-and next week I start learning gunnery."

Patting his hand, Dacia said, "You're lucky," and went on to detail her own boredom. Between her and

Rissa and Ivan, the talk was working into a real gripe session.

Tregare quit listening; he almost had an answer. What had Arlen said? "Oh, sure! Gunnery practice."

"What?" At least three of them said it together.

"Gunnery practice. A contest. Maybe a series of them, if the idea catches on. Three teams, say, to share

the six peripheral turrets." He thought back; yes, all six were rigged for computer simulation runs. "Now for team

captains we want our three best gunners. Rissa and Ivan, I know you're tops, but who's next in line?"

Ivan laughed. "Dacia is. She's crowding the both of us."

"Not quite," said the redhead. "But I should, one of these days, with all the coaching you've given me."

Arlen Limmer frowned. Jealous, Tregare wondered, of the woman's headstart in gunnery? No matter;

thoughts fully into the new project, he asked Rissa to set up the teams. "Spread the trained ones around as

evenly as you can figure it. But anybody can enter as novices, assigned at random. Let's see; that's eight to a

team, and-"

"Not exactly. / want to try, too." Tregare turned. He hadn't heard his daughter come in, but there she stood,

and he knew the determined expression on her face.

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